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wonsroyalty · 22 hours ago

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forbidden, 박성훈

pairing/warnings: 6.4k,, sunghoon x f!reader, brothers best friend, smut, jake and his sister are lowkey spoilt children!!

a/n: my og bias!!! i love sunghoon so so much omg, literally the prettiest boy ever.. hope i did him justice with this trope cause school is kicking my butt😓

masterlist

It wasn’t a secret to say that you wanted your brothers best friend.

You remember the day that Jake brought him over to your house. He was skinny and awkward looking but Jake, the ever-giving saviour, took him under his wing.

Sunghoon truly was innocent before he met Jake. Your brother corrupted him, turning him into a carbon copy of himself.

One time you asked him if he ever missed his old self and he responded harshly asking if you were crazy. Who knew that adopting a fuck boy persona could change a person so drastically..

Sunghoon was over at your house constantly, after school every day, every weekend, every holiday. You were convinced he didn’t ever spend a dinner at his own house.

At first it annoyed you because having two Jake’s at home wasn’t very appealing, but you knew that there was still a part of the old Sunghoon, deep, inside his now cold heart.

Your senior year was an absolute whirlwind, no annoying Jake to pester you and complain about your outfits, no claims that you were slutting yourself out to get the attention of his friends, no Sunghoon.

You didn’t really miss Jake’s presence while he was at university but you truly did miss Sunghoon.

Maybe that’s why you began to act out, screaming at him when he spilt milk down your top (you’d pushed him), calling him every name under the sun and ultimately teasing him relentlessly.

Jake pretended to be oblivious, ignoring your shouting as he focused on the video game in front of him.

He wanted to enjoy his summer, not deal with your new excessive stress reliever.

When he heard Sunghoon start screaming back at you, he got up with a loud groan.

He grabbed your arm, dragging you away from the kitchen.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he glared.

“He spilt milk onto-”

Jake was seething.

“Shut it.” he threatened. “Stop messing with Hoon and go clean up your mess. Dinner will be ready in 40.”

You grumbled under your breath as you stormed up the stairs.

Your parents were on yet another trip, claiming that they needed another break.

They had terrible timing as the day after they left, the shower in your en-suite broke.

You stomped your way over to the main bathroom on Jake’s floor, still jealous at the fact that they built the whole third floor for him and him only and that he had the shower with the best pressure.

Sulking, you peeled your clothes off and hopped into the shower, letting the hot water pierce your skin. Annoyed thoughts slowly trickled out as you scrubbed the milky scent away.

Not keeping track of time, you grabbed a fresh towel off Jake’s stack and wrapped your body.

As you opened the door, Sunghoon seemed to be reaching for the handle, about to open it.

“Sorry.” he grumbled. “I didn’t know you were in there.”

He waited expectantly for you to move out of the doorway but instead watched as you followed his every attempt to walk past you.

“I need to fucking pee, can you get out the way.” he groaned.

“Oh come onnnn, Sunghoon.” you shook your head. “Can’t I have a little fun?”

You dropped your towel at the last word, feigning shock at your actions.

Sunghoon immediately covered his eyes taking steps back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” he screamed blushing heavily.

“It was an accident!” you screamed back wrapping your body.

“Yn!” Jake shouts from downstairs.

You ran down the stairs, narrowly missing Jake as you launched yourself into your room and locked the door.

With a laugh you got dressed, calling your best friend as you dried your hair at the messy vanity in your room.

“So.. you’re telling me that you purposely let go of your towel to get a reaction out of him.” Sunoo laughed.

You hummed confidently.

“You’re such a freak, yn.”

“You say that like you don’t already know.” you joked.

“No trust me, I know.” he rolled his eyes.

Yes, you had slept with your best friend a few times, but he had a dick and you wanted experience, so who better to trust than him?

“Well I gotta go, Jakey said dinner would be ready agessss ago.” you laughed. “Bye Noo, love you.”

“Love you more.” he blew you a kiss before ending the call.

You calmly made your way to the dinning room and sat in the seat that Jake had set up for you.

“Ramen, again?” you groaned. “How did it take you so long to make this…?”

Jake shot a deadly glare your way.

“If you want to complain about my specialty why don’t you make dinner tomorrow.”

“Gladly.” you accepted.

Sunghoon was silent the whole time you all ate.

Jake waffled on to him but he kept his head down, feeling the pressure of your stare.

You raised a leg onto his, testing the waters before you raised your foot slowly, letting it make its way further up.

“I can’t do this!” he shouted grasping his head.

“Huh?” Jake was confused, scrambling after Sunghoon as he put his shoes on, your own legs following after him.

“Hoon! You said you were staying over!” he complained.

“Yeah, Hoon!” you mockingly whined.

Sunghoon shoved past you.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He snatched his car keys from the living room table and slammed the door behind himself.

“Wonder why he’s in a fucking mood.” Jake grumbled.

“Let’s just go eat..” you pushed him back to the table, hearing Sunghoon speed away.

Sunghoon kept his promise, returning the next day bright and early but camped out in Jake’s room the whole day.

Ear on the door, you heard him say “So, is Yn gonna stay away…”

“You know,” Jake trailed off. “Heeseung was over the other day and she didn’t act like that so I just think she hates you.”

“There’s a big difference between hate and lust.” Sunghoon shook his head.

“Ew! That’s my sister.” Jake gagged. “I truly don’t think she wants to fuck you.”

You sighed at how wrong he was, mentally giving him points for the protective act.

“Right.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Not like i’d want to hit anyways.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s still off limits, don’t try it.” Jake firmly said.

You heard them both shift around and out of the fear of getting caught you knocked on the door.

Sunghoon opened it, glaring down at you.

“What do you want?”

Your palms pushed his chest away from your intended path. Taking note of the fact that he was a lot more muscular than the previous summer.

“I’m not here for you,” you grumbled.

Jake tilted his head as if to ask you what Sunghoon had already said.

“I’m going shopping, gonna take your car because I’m outta fuel.”

“You can’t just take my car, let’s take yours and fill it up.”

“Let’s..?” Sunghoon grumbled.

“I have no money.” you lied.

“How’d you already finish your allowance?” Jake shook his head. “What was the plan when paying for the shopping?”

“Dad’s card.”

Jake hesitated before agreeing. “We’re all going, in my car.”

“I’m driving!” you ran out of the room, Jake following behind you as you raced to get the keys.

Sunghoon was in agony, sulking in the back seat as you and Jake argued over what songs should be played next in the cue.

“Siri, play Stay by Rihanna please.” Jake grinned in satisfaction as the song blasted through his car.

“Fuck you, I want Sticky! Siri play Sticky by Tyler the Creator.” you grumbled as his assistant didn’t listen to your voice and instead chose to snatch his phone and type it in.

The anger in his gut was slowly building up.

“Fuck! Yn keep your eyes on the fucking road, it’s a green light!” He shouted.

Both you and Jake jumped in fear.

Fingers shifting gears and feet pushing down on the pedals, you whipped into shape at the awareness of your surroundings.

“Jeez, Hoon.” Jake checked his ears for blood.

The rest of the ride was absolute silent, bar the music playing, you and Jake didn’t dare to speak up.

Sunghoon jumped out at the first opportunity, storming away with the shopping list leaving the two of you to trail after him like kicked puppies.

“I’ll go get the steak, it’s best from the butchers market down the road.” Jake pulled you in before he left. “Don’t do anything i wouldn’t..”

You nodded, giving him the sweetest smile.

He shook his head, pulling you in for a hug. You felt his lips place a peck on the top of your head.

“No funny business.” he threatened Sunghoon who grumbled in response.

“Sooo…” you dragged on. “Now that Jake’s gone- Hey! Don’t walk away while I’m speaking to you!”

The rest of the shopping trip was quite annoying.

All of your attempts to have Sunghoon squirming failed, he was blatantly ignoring your presence.

“Uh.. what’s Foie Gras?”

You giggled at his butchered attempt of pronouncing the item.

“Fattened duck liver.”

He physically recoiled. “Why would anyone wanna eat that.. ew.”

“It’s good, you’ll like it.” you persisted, leading him towards the correct aisle. “Sunoo??”

Your best friend stopped looking for salmon and embraced your hug.

His hands gripped your waist as you snuggled into his neck.

“Here with your new boy toy?” he laughed, pulling away from the heat of your body.

“I’m Sunghoon, nice to meet you.” the older boy leaned over you, holding a hand out for Sunoo to shake.

Sunoo gripped it firmly, greeting him with a smug grin.

“I’ve heard about you.”

“Good things I hope..”

“Well…” Sunoo laughed.

You pulled their hands apart, choosing to get all up in Sunoo’s personal space.

“Noo, are you coming to Heeseung’s party?” you poked his toned chest.

“Of course,” he grabbed your finger, the end of his sentence coming out as a whisper. “Kazhua told me that Yujin’s gonna be there as his plus one.”

It had been 3 weeks since you stopped talking to your friend Yujin after finding out that she’d slept with Sunghoon despite knowing that you had dibs on him.

Your expression immediately turned sour, very close to acting on the urge to drop kick Sunghoon then and there.

He’d always claimed that you were too young for him, despite there only being a years difference between the two of you, but then went behind your back and slept with a friend of the same age.

“You should see the look on his face right now.” Sunoo leant in closer, “He’s seething watching me get close to you. What a freak.”

Mood dissipating as an idea popped into your head, you took Sunoo’s hands and placed them on your ass. Letting him shamelessly grope you in public.

“Don’t be mean, I like that he’s kinda desperate sometimes.” you laughed.

Sunghoon fought to rip his vision away from you and your friend, slowly gaining the courage to grab the Foie Gras before storming over to you and yanking you away from Sunoo.

“Hey! I didn’t even say bye.” you turned your body to wave at your friend in response to the wink he sent you.

You watched in bewilderment as Sunghoon slammed the basket items onto the conveyor belt, scaring the cashier.

He whipped his wallet out of his pocket and took a card out to pay.

“You don’t have to do that..” you looked away in embarrassment.

You knew that Sunghoon wasn’t as well off as people like you and Jake. Taking up a summer job just to keep up with the lifestyle.

“Well Jake took your dad’s card, so unless you want to return all this, i’ll pay.” he pressed his lips together tightly.

The lack of refusal on your part led him to tap his card onto the scanner.

Watching him wince at the high transaction go through had you clenching your thighs together. You couldn’t tell if the hormones rose from Sunoo or Sunghoon but you didn’t really care.

He bagged the shopping and walked off to the car, not even bothering to look back at you.

Once the bags were in the boot you stood outside waiting for Jake.

“Jake wouldn’t have liked that.”

“Jake or you?” you rolled your eyes. “Sunoo’s my best friend.”

“So you just let your best friends fondle your ass in public?” he scoffed in disbelief. “Hee was right, you really are a slut.”

“Excuse me!”

You both turned to see an elderly lady coming over.

“Please could you help me load my shopping into the taxi?” she pleaded.

“Of course!” you beamed pushing down your anger with a gentle laugh.

Your parents had raised you right in some ways.

Sunghoon followed after you, keeping himself surprisingly close to your moving figure.

You both helped the lady transfer her bags from the trolley to the car, nodding with respect at her praise.

“What a cute couple, thank you for helping me.” she beamed, waving as she got into the passenger seat.

One look at Sunghoon’s face and you could tell he was torn between annoyance and embarrassment.

“Where the fuck is Jake?”

As if on cue Jake showed up.

You wiped your thumb at the lip stain on his cheek.

“You’re so nasty.”

He held a finger up to his lips before wrapping one arm around Sunghoon and the other around you.

“Sooo what did I miss?”

“PartyNextDoor? Really?” Sunghoon muttered walking into the dimly lit kitchen. It was clear that you were trying to set the mood.

Jake had sent him to help you out of fear that you’d burn something while he stepped out to meet some girl.

“He makes good music.” you shrugged seemingly unaffected by the lewd lyrics. “Aren’t you here to help?”

He nodded.

“Load the pasta into the oven dish, please.” you instructed. “Then put cheese on top.”

Sunghoon picked up the cheese block.

“Where’s the cheese grater?”

You told him that you’d get it, purposely bending over in your miniskirt so that he’d get an eyeful of the way your panties clung to your puffy folds.

“Oh… got it.”

Turning around you saw that Sunghoon was clearly distressed, pinching the top of his nose bridge.

You passed the grater over, internally laughing at the way his body jolted when your hand brushed against his.

“Aww Hoonie..” you pouted. “Do you want my help?”

Not even waiting for a response, you squeezed his crotch.

A low groan left his throat watching you drop to your knees with his trousers and boxers.

You impatiently began to suck him off, revelling in the fact that his cock was just as pretty as him.

Sunghoon’s head fell back, knuckles paling at the pressure of him gripping the counter.

“That feels so good.” he praised.

Sunghoon was big, too big even.

You swirled your fist at the parts you couldn’t reach and suckled on his tip, the praise doing something to you. Spurring you on to make him feel good.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” he moaned.

“But you like it.” you sat back onto your knees.

Something about the look in your eyes had him whimpering.

“I knew the old you was in there somewhere!” your smile widened as you took him into your mouth again.

“Why are you still on that?” he seethed.

His long fingers scratched at your scalp, guiding your head off and on him. The vibrations of your gags had his knees buckling.

Sunghoon experimentally pushed your head fully onto his length. Your nose begged for air, buried in his abdomen and your throat constricted, feeling his dick push past your uvula.

“Come on, yn.” he coaxed. “Take it all.”

Tears streamed down your face, drool seeping out of the corners of your mouth.

“I’m so close, keep your throat open.” he groaned.

“Yn!” Jake shouted from the front door.

You slid off Sunghoon with a cough, scrambling to grab a tissue, wiping your tears and drool away as he pulled up his pants before running to the downstairs bathroom.

“Is dinner ready?” Jake asked poking his head into the kitchen.

“Just need to put it in the oven.” you croaked out.

“Cool, gonna play a game! Send Hoon my way when he comes back..”

Dinner was just like the day before except this time you and Sunghoon both couldn’t make eye contact yet Jake still waffled on.

The air felt thick even for you, trying your hardest to give Jake enthusiastic answers so he wouldn’t suspect anything.

You jumped up and down in happiness when he told you that he would clean the dishes so you could relax, dashing up to your room to get rid of your own problem.

The next few hours passed by rapidly as you tried time and time again to get yourself off, still throbbing from having Sunghoon in your mouth, but nothing was working.

“Ugh!” a quiet groan left your throat.

Your hands reached for the phone on your bedside table immediately clicking on Sunoo’s contact.

You: fuck i’m so horny

You: tried getting off but it won’t work

Sunoo: u want me to come over ??

You contemplated taking up his offer.

You: that’d take too long

Sunoo: is park over ??

You: yh.. i uh kinda sucked him off earlier

Sunoo: yeah I am NOT contracting an std

You: fuck you 😭😭😭

Sunoo: js send him a nude?? or smth 🫡

You: UGH ILY THANKS

You slipped on a thin nightgown, purposely pushing your chest upwards letting your hardened nipples peek through, taking a picture then taking another of your dripping pussy.

Fingers swiftly moving onto his contact, you pressed on the chat.

[1,000 from yn💋]

Sunghoon: so you had money the whole time..

Yn: [2 pictures attached] can you help me…?

seen

Sunghoon wasted no time in stumbling over to your room. Sending explicit pictures to him while he was staying in your brothers room was very insane.

He didn’t even knock on the door, storming in them locking it quietly after he got in.

“You can’t keep doing this.” he shook his head.

You gave him the best innocent look you could muster.

“Do what? What did I do, Hoonie?”

He ran a hand down his face, immediately losing all composure.

“Stand up.” he demanded.

You complied immediately. Yes, Sunghoon had shown his anger through badly timed outbursts but in that moment he seemed furious.

“You can’t keep trying to make me jealous.” he continued. “You don’t understand!”

“But-”

“You’re all I can think about anymore. I wake up and you’re there, I go to sleep and you’re in my dreams!” he whisper shouted, clearly being tormented by his own thoughts. “Sometimes I just can’t stand you but being away from you was absolute hell for me. Trust me, I am also trying to understand how this shit happened.”

“Hoon-”

“Please.” he begged. “Please just let me finish.”

He took a step forward, cradling your head in his hands.

“For years, I have been infatuated with you. Forced to watch from a distance so that I wouldn’t lose you and Jake.” he shook his head. “There really isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for you. I..”

You placed your hands on top of his significantly larger ones.

“Hoon, what are you trying to say?” you pushed.

He closed his eyes in pain.

“Don’t make me say it.” he frowned. “If I say it, we can’t go back to how we were.”

“I think I love you.” you teared up.

His head whipped up. “What?”

“Sunghoon, I love you.” you repeated firmly.

You’d always wanted Sunghoon since the day you laid eyes on him, but his words put a new perspective into your head. Is this why you were jealous of anyone that got close to him? Is it why you very harshly cut off Yujin? Is it why you felt butterflies every time he was around?

You had let your lust cloud your original feelings for Sunghoon, letting him believe that you only wanted him for sex because you knew that you could never have him romantically.

Sunghoon truly was out of your league. He was genuinely kind and a respcted person. He was everything that you couldn’t be. But none of that mattered when he pressed his lips against yours.

Pent up emotions of the past 10 years released as you kissed back just as passionately. Kissing Sunghoon with as much angst and love as he gave.

You never ever opened your eyes while kissing someone else, but you peeked an eye open to see what he looked like up close.

The perfect mole on his nose, his thick furrowed brows and perfect hair.

He kept his eyes closed for a few moments after you pulled away, taking in the feeling.

“Hoonie.” you called out. “I want you.”

Sunghoon complied, throwing you onto your bed and getting comfortable between your legs.

You attached your lips onto his as he rutted his hips against your warm heat.

From when you sucked him off earlier you already knew he was big, but feeling his so close had you gasping.

“Shhh.” he whispered. “Keep it quiet baby, we can’t let Jake hear.”

Shit. Jake. You hoped that he just wouldn’t wake up or else you’d both be out the house till your parents came back.

Your head bobbled in response.

“Sunghoon,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Hearing you moan his name had his pushing a particularly harsh thrust into you.

“Fuck. Where do you keep the condoms?”

He got off you briefly, taking the time to strip himself as you bent to reach into your desk drawer.

You jolted forwards as his palm made contact with your ass, impatiently begging you to hurry up.

Letting him roll the plastic on while you stripped down had you feeling a little scared. Being naked under his watchful eye was nothing like sending him a nude because you had to witness his reaction firsthand.

“You’re so beautiful.” he repeated, kissing up and down your body.

“Sunghoon please.” you whined.

Pushing your legs into your body, he lined himself up.

“Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, okay.” he nodded.

You wrapped a leg around his waist, pushing him into you, drooling at the delicious stretch he gave you.

“Fuck, I can’t.” he groaned into your neck, lapping at your skin, flicking his tongue onto the bruises he formed. “Your legs are shaking so much.”

He wasn’t wrong, this was the fastest you’d ever come close to orgasming instantly and he hadn’t even moved yet.

Two thrusts in and you were clamping down on his dick, mouth covered to muffle the string of moans leaving your throat.

“Oh my, I’m cumming. Fuck.” Sunghoon twitched as he groaned lowly in your ear. “Pussy so good, tight, fuck! I’ve never come this fast.”

You didn’t know if he was talking out of his ass but the fact that he wasn’t ashamed did things to you.

Once you’d both recovered, you realised he was still fully hard and that turned you on even more.

“I want more.” you begged. “Please give me more.”

“Fuck. You’re so hot.” he groped at your chest. “Where do you want me?”

You guided him to lie down near your pillows, discarding the condom before hovering your dripping core over his length.

“I want you raw.” you whined. “I’m on the pill, please.”

Sunghoon closed his eyes again.

“Please.” he begged. “Shit. Never thought i’d hear you say that.”

Your legs burned as you sat down feeling the burn ten times more in the new position.

“You’re so big, so big Hoonie.” you babbled.

He could see that you were struggling to bounce yourself so he sat up and guided your hips in time with his thrusts.

“Do you feel me here, baby?” he pressed the spot where his tip poked into your your lower abdomen, both moaning at the feeling.

“Fuck, Sunghoon, I can’t.” you cried.

This time around it felt so much more intense, the intimacy was off the charts as he forced you to look into his eyes. Tears were fully streaming down your face at the overwhelming pleasure.

“Don’t you wanna make me proud?” he frowned. “Doesn’t my little slut want me to fill her up? Give her my baby?”

His words had you moaning louder and louder causing him to kiss away the noise.

He smacked your ass harshly.

“Quiet pretty, you don’t want Jake to hear? Do you?” he growled.

You shook your head, falling into his embrace.

The squelch of your juices and the repeated slam of the bed against the wall made you realise that Jake probably already knew what was going on.

Your teeth dug into Sunghoon’s shoulder determined to keep quiet.

“I’m so close..” you sobbed. “Please can I cum?”

He lifted your head, forcing you to look at him.

“Of course, baby.” he groaned. “Let go for me.”

Your eyes rolled back, body going limp as the orgasm ran through you.

Sunghoon came after a few thrusts, filling you up to the brim.

He rubbed your back, waiting for you to come back to him.

But you just couldn’t stop crying, tears rolling down his collarbone.

“Yn?” he inspected your face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed, palms digging into your eyes. “Sorry that I was so mean to you just because I couldn’t control my feelings.”

He clicked his tongue, fingers tracing up and down your arms to soothe you.

“It’s not like I was an angel either.” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you couldn’t come to me.”

His lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple, bringing you into his embrace.

“I love you, Yn.” he whispered. “I think I always have.”

You gripped onto him a little tighter at his words, checking to see if the moment was real.

“Can you stay here?” you looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Please. I know that Jake-”

“Yeah, of course.” he relaxed. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

Over the next few days, you and Sunghoon had fucked like rabbits. Nowhere was safe, not your dad’s office, the living room, dining room, Jake’s bathroom, the outdoor AND indoor pool, even Sunghoon’s own room had been attacked.

You’d almost been caught by Jake on a few occasions but he still seemed to be oblivious. He didn’t even notice when Sunghoon fingered you under the table at a very public restaurant.

Maybe he was pretending, you just didn’t care. Sunghoon was way too good to give up, even for your beloved brother.

Now it was the night of Heeseung’s birthday party.

You hadn’t seen Sunghoon since he left your room that morning to go shopping with Jake and you were experiencing withdrawals.

The two of you had spoken about boundaries, with the impending doom of your parents coming back the next day but for now you wanted to have him as much as you could.

“So, you’re telling me that while I was on the phone with you, he was quite literally eating your out?” Kazhua grimaced. “You two are perfect for each other.”

You laughed swatting at her arm in fake offence.

“Uh oh….” Sunoo pursed his lips.

The three of you looked in the direction he was facing, watching as Yujin felt up and down Sunghoon’s buff arms, Jake and Heeseung looking away awkwardly.

“Yn! Wait!” Kazhua called after you but you were already storming over.

You pushed Yujin out of the way causing her to stumble and placed yourself in front of Sunghoon.

“Woah, Yn..” Jake laughed.

“Can we talk?” you asked Sunghoon.

“Well.. I’m with my friends right now..”

You forcefully grabbed his arm, dragging him outside not stopping till you got to his car.

The cold summer breeze nipped your shoulders, sending shivers down your spine.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you seethed. “Letting her touch all up on you when you know how I feel!”

Sunghoon just leant forward and kissed you.

You pushed him away, flustered.

“Hey!” you whisper shouted. “What if Jake just came outside right now?!”

“Shhh..” he laughed. “Come here then.”

He pulled his keys out of his pocket, and got into the drivers seat, patting his lap.

If you had checked your surroundings before you hesitantly got in then you would’ve noticed Riki, your brothers minion, dashing off to find Jake.

Sunghoon pushed your hips down onto his so you could feel him.

“This is how you make me feel.” he moaned, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Fuck.” you moaned. “I’m still mad at you though.”

“Take it out on me, pretty.”

Your lips attacked his neck, leaving as many marks as possible, you wanted everyone to see that Sunghoon was clearly taken.

He pulled his dick out of his pants, rubbing it along the slick of your panties.

You smacked his hand away, pulled your panties to the side and suck down onto him by guiding yourself.

Tears threatened to spill, body already covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Sunghoon wrapped his arms around your waist, thrusting up into you rapidly.

The whole car shook while the windows fogged up.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Hoonie, faster please!” you moaned.

“You think you can run your mouth whenever you feel like it, huh pretty?” he seemed to go even faster.

“I’m sorry!” you cried, nails digging into his biceps for stability.

“Oh you’re sorry? Prove it.” he growled. “Scream my name.”

“Hoon.” you whimpered. “That’s too risky.”

“Hm.. that’s not what I asked.” he rubbed circles on your clit, going even deeper than before. “I know that you can be louder than that.”

Having him hit the spot time and time again was sending you over the edge, you lost all composure the second he started sucking on your sweet spot.

“Sunghoon, fuck. Ah, right there! Fuck Daddy, please go faster!” you screamed out.

“Daddy, huh?” he groaned. “Gonna make you feel so good princess.”

You cried out as he continued to thrust into you at a faster pace, skin slapping erotically.

“I’m gonna-”

He told you it was okay to let go.

“Fuck, look how much you came for me.” he moaned in admiration, feeling true bliss as your essence leaked down to his balls. “So good for me, baby.”

Static filled your ears as he came inside you, waves of fire burining through your limbs.

Sunghoon’s head hit the headrest and you slumped onto his body.

His fingers scratched at your scalp soothing you.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked softly.

You nodded, too tired to respond.

“I need you to use your words, princess..”

Your lips pressed light kisses on his neck.

“I’d love to.” you sighed contentedly. “Can we stay like this for a bit?”

You felt him nod, head falling on top of yours.

Sleep almost overtook you but a knock on the window woke you right up.

“Sunghoooon.” Jake sang.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he whispered.

You immediately shot up, looking for something to cover your face.

“One second.” Sunghoon shouted back.

He gave you his jacket so that Jake wouldn’t notice your outfit as you slipped on a cap from the car and faced the other way.

“Can we talk through the window?” Sunghoon asked nervously.

“No…” Jake groaned. “Open it.”

Sunghoon reluctantly pushed the button, internally cursing when Jake claimed he’d been hit by a whiff of sex.

“What’s up, Jake. I’m kinda busy.”

“Yeah.. I can see.” he gestured towards you, believing that you were just some random Sunghoon decided to fuck. “Have you seen my sister?”

He felt you tense beneath him.

“Um.. no.” Sunghoon shrugged. “I haven’t seen your sister.”

Riki walked out from behind Jake.

“He’s lying!” Riki shook his head. “That’s your sister, right there!”

Jake looked at him in disbelief, finally noticing that the girls hair looked a lot like yours.

Sunghoon tried to swat his hand away when he reached in to take your hat but failed miserably.

“Oh my…” Jake stumbled back.

Your head slowly turned to face him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“Hey, Jakey.”

“Oh my.”

He tried to grab you and pull you out of the car but the loudest whine left your mouth.

“You’re balls deep in my SISTER?!” Jake was furious. “My sister? My little sister!”

The two of you flinched.

“Fucking hell, Sunghoon! You could’ve had anyone else! She’s off limits!” Jake frowned. “Forbidden even!”

“Jake you don’t need to-” you started.

“You shut it.” he shook his head. “Both of you get decent and get out.”

Sunghoon rolled the window up so you could have privacy as you lifted your body off his, cum spilling out while he cleaned you up.

“Riks you can go now.” Jake dismissed the boy who had a smirk on his face.

You and Sunghoon stood infront of Jake, silently taking the verbal beating.

“We’re going home now.”

“I’ll drop her off.” Sunghoon stood his ground.

You pleaded with your eyes to get Jake to agree.

“Fine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh on the drive home.

“That was seriously bad timing.” you sighed, spotting Jake outside the door of your house, waiting for you.

Sunghoon got out first, opening the door for you.

You pulled him in and kissed him goodbye, ignoring Jake’s gags in the background.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow.” you pleaded. “Mother wants you there. So do I.”

“Okay.. I’ll be there.” he smiled. “If Jake tries to hit me though, I am swinging back.”

Jake cleared his throat loudly.

You said your goodbyes to Sunghoon as he watched Jake wrap an arm around you and guide you into the house but not leaving before throwing a middle finger up at him.

“So unnecessary.” Sunghoon sighed.

Sunghoon and Jake didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were arguing.

When your dad had told them to set the table together they argued in hushed whispers, fighting over forks.

Even your eldest brother, Noah could tell that something was up, he’d come home and intended to stay for a week after not being around for a whole year.

“Sunghoon?” you mother asked plating up caviar. “Has your mother said yes to the trip?”

Sunghoon nodded in response.

Right the trip. Your parents announced that they were taking you all to Greece, Noah was just there for the free holiday.

“You’re a leech, get a job.” you poked at him.

“Med school is kicking my butt, and who’s gonna pass up a free holiday?” he shoved you back.

“Yn.. you don’t have a job yourself either..” your father teased.

“She doesn’t need a job, I’ve got her.” Sunghoon caressed your shoulder.

Jake began to hysterically gag.

“Stop being so dramatic.” you sneered, body relaxing as Sunghoon rested his palm on your knee.

Everything was going well, Jake and Sunghoon didn’t interact and your parents didn’t pick up on a thing.

Sunghoon tried Foie Gras, he didn’t like it and begged you to let him go to a fast food restaurant but other than that he was enjoying himself.

That was until Jake dropped his fork under the table and noticed how shamelessly close the two of you were under the table.

“Oh my I’m gonna throw up.” he cried out.

“What now, Jake?” Noah sighed.

Jake leaned over the table to whisper at you and Sunghoon.

“Footsies under the table is fucking disgusting.” he sneered.

“What are you talking about?” Sunghoon frowned.

“UGH!” Jake shouted.

“Jaeyun Sim.” you mother scolded. “Sit down.”

“Mumma, no!” he whined. “Those two were fucking behind my back!”

Your dad choked on his wine as you dropped his fork.

“I mean we all thought it was gonna happen soon..” Noah trailed off.

“What?” Sunghoon raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean by all?”

Your mother ran round to the other side of the table, pulling you and Sunghoon into a hug.

“Aww my baby is growing up!” she wailed. “Who better to bring into the family than Sunghoon!”

Your dad shook Sunghoon’s hand.

“Careful with that one.” he joked. “She’s a handful.”

“You’re supposed to be on MY side!” Jake glared. “I found out that my best friend is sleeping with-”

“Dating.” your boyfriend corrected.

“Ew!” Jake shivered. “My little sister, my baby sister who I tried SO hard to protect from the men of this world.”

“Even I don’t care this much, Jake?” Noah snickered.

Jake stormed off to his room and slammed the door.

Despite having ups and downs with your brother you truly did love him. Seeing how much he hated the situation made you feel sorry for your actions.

“He’ll come around.” your dad assured.

You waited until the table was cleared to go bring Jake the rest of his food.

“Can I come in?” you asked softly.

He grumbled.

His figure lay on his bed, playing catch with a ball.

“What do you want?” he mumbled.

You placed the food on his desk and sat next to him, ignoring how he aimed the ball at your head.

“Jakey.” you started. “Why are you so against me being with Sunghoon?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I knew him first.”

“Yeah but..” you had to take a deep breath to stop yourself from crying. “I just don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I‘m not mad.”

“Right.” you pursed your lips together. “I just wanted you to know that I really do love Sunghoon and that he loves me and I just want us all to be happy..”

A tear slipped out of your eye.

He sighed.

“Yeah, I get that. It’s just..” he wiped the tears that ran down. “He’s my best friend and you’re my little sister, if anyone hurts you i’d naturally have to go after them.. I just can’t bring myself to do that to Sunghoon. I love you both too much..”

Now you were both crying.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” you laughed through your tears.

“I thought that if I delayed the conversation it wouldn’t have to happen.” he smiled sadly. “But i’m not mad, I really am happy for you.. change just isn’t my strong suit.”

“He isn’t lying.” Sunghoon laughed from the doorway. “He’s couldn’t sleep for two months when we first got to uni. Claimed it was nerves but I think he just missed you too much.”

You pulled Jake into a hug, both sobbing gently.

Jake grabbed Sunghoon, pulling him in.

“You’re both so emotional.” he whispered, letting you both cry on his shoulders.

“Yeah well, you have to deal with this forever because you’re not leaving now.” you cried.

“I wouldn’t even dare.” he smiled.

THE END.

#sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x y/n #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut

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inlovewithpandora · 3 days ago

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ᥫ᭡ — Just a Pogue

Artists — Rafe Cameron x fem!pogue!reader

Lyrics — Hearing Rafe belittle you to his friends and down play the bond you share leads you to your breaking point.

Music Advisory — Oneshot; all angst, hurt w/ no comfort, slight cursing, based heavily on scene(s) from season four

Duration — 1.7k

Words from Artist — This was a quick and fun fic to write for Rafe! It’s been a while since I wrote an angsty fic so I’m glad to have my toes in the water again, especially for Rafe because he pairs so good with angst! If you have any requests you want to see with Rafe please feel free to send them to my ask box! As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — main m.list・obx taglist・navigation

When Rafe sent you a text to meet him at the Country Club you were excited, hoping that since he’s asking you to come hang out with him and his friends that he’s finally ready to acknowledge what’s happening between you two. Your relationship has been without a label for a while now, sharing moments that are intimate, intense, and real, making you feel like there’s a true connection with Rafe and that he’ll be officially asking you to be his girlfriend soon.

As you walk from the patio to the inside of the club you see Rafe, Topper, and his girlfriend Ruthie. When you’re about to approach, you pause when you hear your name brought up in their conversation, making curiosity strike you and wonder what they're talking about so you move out of their line of sight but stay close enough so you can hear. “I’m surprised y/n’s your girlfriend.” Ruthie twirls the straw in her drink while looking over at Topper with a slight smirk on her face, purposefully testing the waters to see how Rafe will react. “I mean she’s pretty pogue, isn’t she?”

Rafe scoffs and rolls his eyes as if he finds this whole topic exhausting to talk about. “Listen,” he says with a blank face while shrugging his shoulders and lifting his glass closer to his lips, “just because we hook up doesn’t mean she’s my girlfriend, okay?” He mutters out before glancing around and taking a sip of his drink, clearly uncomfortable with the spotlight on his relationship with you— if you would even call it that. Mentioning your social class and insinuating that you’re his girlfriend makes Rafe feel insecure, especially since in the past he’s always expressed his strong dislike for pogues.

“Right… I’m just saying you sure are together a lot. Wait, has she moved in yet?”

“I’m not living with a pogue, I have standards.” Rafe felt the need to defend himself against this line of questioning and make it known that you’re strictly just a hookup for him, that there isn’t any type of love in his heart for you because you’re a pogue and he just can’t be with someone who’s living in the cut.

The sting of Rafe’s words hits you like a punch in the gut, unraveling every bit of hope you’d been holding onto. You feel knots in your stomach, your heart pounding as you back away, each cruel word echoing in your mind. To him, you’re just a fling—a fun thing he can call up whenever he wants, never someone he’d actually take seriously. All those moments, those stolen kisses and soft words you’d shared, they’d only been games to him. You thought that Rafe finally changed, that his views weren’t so surface level when it came to being a kook or a pogue but it’s clear that he only made you believe those things so he could get in your pants.

You turn and walk back toward your car, your mind reeling as you begin to feel stupid for allowing Rafe into your heart, trusting him with your body, only to find out he never truly cared about you as he claimed. You feel like you were lied to, knowing he feed you with words he knows you wanted to hear and would cling to just so he can get what he wanted out of you.

Over the next few days, Rafe tries to reach out to you, sending you numerous texts and calling your phone more times that you can count, causing each attempt to reignite the anger and pain you feel. He doesn’t know that you overheard his conversation with Ruthie and Topper, but you still ignore all his attempts to get in contact with you and you eventually block him, wanting him out of your life after what hearing what he said.

While you're home trying to take your mind off the whole situation you hear someone banging on your door, making you roll your eyes because whoever it is can’t be that determined to talk to you. When you open the door you see Rafe standing outside, looking at you with a look of confusion and underlying frustration. He doesn’t enjoy being ignored and he doesn’t understand why you’re being weird to him all of a sudden so he decided to pop up at your house and confront you. “Why the hell have you been ghosting me?”

You shake your head, trying to hold back the anger that flares inside you just from the sight of him. “Rafe, please leave me alone, okay? I blocked you for a reason, I don’t wanna talk to you.”

You try to shut the door, not wanting to continue a conversation with him but Rafe’s hand shoots out, stopping it from closing because he wants a more in depth explanation on why you’ve been ignoring him instead of the ‘half-assed’ one you just gave. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, clearly not used to being brushed off by you because since you started talking their hasn’t been a day where you deliberately ignored him. “What’s goin’ on with you? Did I do something?”

A bitter laugh leaves your lips before you allow the anger you feel to rise to the surface and let Rafe know exactly why you’ve been ignoring him. “Yeah, you did. Maybe it has something to do with you telling your friends I’m just a ‘hookup’ and that you’d never live with a pogue since you have so called ‘standards’.”

He blinks feeling thrown off, not seeing the connection in the meaning of your words and where they stem from. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“I heard you at the club, Rafe!” You snap at him, the hurt you’ve been feeling over the past few days spilling over. “I heard you tell them that I’m just some Pogue you’re hooking up with, that I’m not your girlfriend, and that you’d never actually be with someone like me. Like I’m nothing!”

Rafe opens his mouth, struggling to find the right words, but you’re not interested in hearing whatever excuse he’s about to make because you know it’ll just be a lie. “I thought you were different, Rafe. I thought you actually saw me as more than that. But you just needed me to feel good about yourself for a while, right? You just liked having me around when you wanted a good fuck.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he protests, his voice pleading now. “I was just trying to… I don’t know, keep them off my back. They wouldn’t get it.”

You scoff while pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling a fresh wave of aggravation as you realize he really doesn’t get it. “And that’s the problem, Rafe. If you can’t respect me around your friends—if you’re embarrassed of what we have—then you never actually cared.”

He reaches out, trying to grab your hand, but you pull back and take a step away, not wanting to feel his touch after knowing his true feelings about you. “You made me feel like we had something,” you whisper, feeling the sting of tears but refusing to let them fall in front of him. “That we could be an actual couple but you played in my face, Rafe. You told me that you didn’t care that I was a pogue, that you wanted me with you but clearly it was bullshit.”

Rafe’s face shifts from guilt to desperation as he steps closer, his voice softening as he tries to clean up the mess he’s made. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was an fuckin’ idiot, and I shouldn’t have said that. I thought if I downplayed it, I could keep my friends from giving me shit about us.”

“So, you downplay me? Make me sound like I’m nothing to you just to avoid a little judgment? Do you fuckin’ hear yourself, Rafe? You didn’t just protect yourself—you tore me down in front of your friends.”

He looks away, clearly frustrated that his stupid words messed up things between the two of you but he pushes on, wanting to try and make things right. “I get it, okay? I messed up, but it doesn’t change how I feel. It’s just… complicated. You know I care about you.”

You scoff, feeling the weight of his words crushing you all over again. “Complicated? No, Rafe. It’s not complicated—it’s simple. You don’t respect me and you don’t care about me. You never did. And now you want to apologize and act like it’ll erase what you said and make everything better?” Rafe’s face twists with guilt, but his silence only fuels your anger. Every hurtful word he spoke replays in your mind, solidifying your resolve. “Too late, Rafe. You’ve already ruined it.”

He can tell that he’s losing you, that you’re emotionally pulling away from him so he starts pleading with you, not wanting to lose you. “I didn’t mean it. I’ll fix it. Just give me another chance—please.”

“No. You can’t fix it. It’s already done. You’ve made it clear who you are and how you feel about me. I’m not sticking around for whatever mess you’ve got going on in your head just so you can fuck me over again.”

His face falls, his frustration turning into panic. “Please, just let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear anymore, Rafe.” You feel a finality in your mind and a final piece of your heart closing off, deciding not to fall into the trap of Rafe’s words again, knowing that if you do you’ll only hurt your future self when he fucks up again. “I’m not waiting around for you to figure your shit out. I’m done.”

When Rafe is face to face with the door he stands in place frozen, while his heart is hammering inside his chest. The sharp echo of the door slamming reverberates in his ears, a bitter reminder of how badly he’s screwed things up. For a moment, he’s too stunned to move, his mind reeling from the weight of your words and the way you just ended what you had with him.

A deep frustration churns inside him, mingled with guilt and regret. He never thought it would get to this point. He didn’t expect you to shut him out so completely. He knows that he hurt you, but hearing the door slam was like a slap to the face, a loud confirmation that he had lost you. Rafe knows, deep down, that he’s crossed a line he can’t uncross, that it’ll be hard for you to forgive him when the things he said were so harsh.

The realization that his actions have pushed you too far away hits him hard. His chest tightens as the panic sets in, his mind racing with how to fix things, ways of how to make you forgive him, but nothing comes to him. The words “I’m sorry” feel hollow, like a cheap way out. He’s played this game before, but now it feels different. You’re different.

He steps back slowly and walks to his car with his head hanging down, looking back at the door with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. He never meant to hurt you, to make you feel less than but the damage is already done. And now, with you shutting him out, he has no idea if he can ever make things right, if he can ever win his sweet pogue back.

Fanbase — @ietss @shimmeringana @ims1 @anything4yooongi @genesis-p4l-love @oatmealisweird @ilovechickfilasauce @brooklynadoresdior @jordscosplay @taylormarieee @rivivie @shadyshadyy @m-mally @jj-maybank944 @bakugouswaif @princessadaniii8

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starkwlkr · 14 hours ago

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she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv33 #mv1 fic

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coquettepascal · 15 hours ago

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felicitas and her general

summary: general acacius has caught your attention after being the first mortal to worship you in decades. you only face one challenge: don't get too attached.

warnings: rated g, contains spoilers for gladiator ii, follows the timeline of the movie somewhat, reader is the goddess felicitas (who is the goddess of good luck,) this fic is basically just an add on to the movie.

tags: goddess!reader x general acacius, emotional infidelity, lots of roman mythology stuff, writer is basing all her knowledge out of what she remembers from PJO and HoO, worship, complicated feelings, marcus does not cheat on lucilla physically, yearning, pining, grieving, guilt, major character death(s), stalking (kind of), a lot of obsession/dedication, angst, hurt no comfort but also hurt with comfort.

a/n: i watched gladiator ii and then was too emotionally devastated to finish this fic the way i planned. i really hope you all like this!! also, this fic is also dedicated to my dear friend @pascalssbabyy because she is my biggest cheerleader and i love her <33

wc: 7.2k (not beta read)

It was he who woke you.

A quiet sacrifice in the evening that felt like the freshest breath of air you could have, more intense than what you could have atop any mountain, near any spring. The scent of burning meat and smokey vegetables grasped at your lungs, and you almost choked on it. How long had it been since someone had offered you something so kind? Real food, not just scraps of something they didn’t wish for.

You’d never complain about how difficult it is to be a minor Goddess, you know that you could be a mortal, but most don’t think of how Gods can fade. It’s a physical process, one where you’d notice how your fingertips passed through things like chalices and bowls, how a spoon slid through your hand once. The clatter of gold on the table was embarrassing, even though you were alone. Nothing about being forgotten, or fading, physically hurt. It was only mentally taxing, knowing that you weren’t as important as you once were, that mortals found you insignificant.

Generals used to come and offer things frequently sometime ago, but you couldn’t even begin to understand how long ago that was. When you’re immortal, or supposed to be, mortal lives seem fleeting. You had taken them for granted, and regret it now, for all you have now are the empty clouds above your temple.

The last offering you can gather was from a young boy, who wanted to win a board game against his sister the next day. He had given you half a bun with strips of meat. Sure, it was thoughtful, but this was something rich.

You finish inhaling the offering, and then hear the offerer's voice. But it’s muffled, and you want to see who it is anyways, so you swipe through the clouds and create a window to see. Then you can hear him clearly.

Someone who is clearly a general kneels at your altar, which is chipped and dirty. The ashes of the food are in front of him, smoking still, and you can taste the wealth in his meal. It can’t distract you from him though, he is striking.

Broad shoulders support a heavy, curly, grey, head of hair, which is bowed in honor of you. His body is widely built, sturdy for battle, and his voice is just as powerful. You’re so focused on hearing his voice you only catch the tail end of his request.

“... Allow me to come home safely, if not for Rome, then for my wife.”

Your heart squeezes, and you swear you can feel the ichor gushing through your veins. Scarcely when a General came to give you an offering all those years ago would he mention a wife, only ever wishing for luck in the upcoming battle or war. But here, now, you’ve been given a respectful request and offering. It isn’t a thought in your mind to not favor him now, your eyes closing and your mouth murmuring a blessing to him. It feels intoxicating to use some of your power again, especially on someone who asked for it. It also feels intoxicating to watch this General leave.

He looks around before he goes, seeming to note how degraded your small temple has become. The statue of you that lies ahead of your altar is yellowing, and ironically, multiple fingers have broken off. The General seems displeased by this, sighing as he exits the temple.

His gait is heavy, sandaled steps weighted as he walks down them and into the torch-lit night. You find yourself looking for him even after he’s disappeared from your sight, the warmth of gratefulness hugging around you. Part of you knows better than to play around with the thought, but still you wish to know more about him.

—

It worsens when he comes back. A few times a week he returns, offering rich foods. It’s been a month now, and you are coming back to life.

Fading didn’t feel like anything, but coming back feels like so much more. The first few offerings had your body feeling alight again, like the ichor in you was flowing again, but within the last two weeks you’ve gotten your fingertips back. They were tingling for a day and then the next you were able to properly grasp things again, nothing was slipping through you.

In that time you had also learned his name. A guard had come looking for him one night, and stood behind him whilst he prayed. You had found yourself smiling when he didn’t interrupt himself, instead acting aggravated once he had finished. The guard had apologized for interrupting and let him know that “Your wife wishes to speak to you, General Acacius.”

Acacius.

You still don’t know his first name, but it is enough. You can think of it when you feel lonely, when you are bored. Something to associate with the offerings, with the blessings. The fact he has been so consistent hints at a desperation, which would usually repel you from blessing him, but he is the only one who seems to recognize you. His efforts are not going to go unseen by you, not when you have so little to do.

You can feel yourself conceding to your need to know him more, but just as you begin to fight yourself again, he shows up.

Tonight he’s dressed a little nicer. Usually he arrives in a plain tunic but this one has golden trim on it, and his hair is a little more tousled. He stumbles into your altar holding something in a cloth, but he’s walking like he’s… drunk?

Acacius meanders to your altar, grabbing a torch along the way, and then empties the contents of the cloth. It produces a small dessert bun, a Libum, or honey cheesecake, and your mouth waters. So much of the food that is given to you is savory meats, masculine foods that are heavy on the senses, but this is sweet and delicate. You can, of course, eat whatever you’d like. You’re a Goddess, and though you aren’t major, you are still very fortunate.

But this feels thoughtful.

The General drops to his knees after lighting the bun ablaze, swaying slightly, and now you know he must be drunk.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he begins as normal, “I am sorry I am later than usual. Though I don’t know if Goddesses sleep. I was… caught up in other affairs, but I made it in time.”

He is less eloquent than usual and seems particularly focused on how it is nearly past midnight.

“I brought you this though,” he gestures to the half burnt bun. “I wanted to bring you something different than meat and… things. I thought a dessert would be fitting for that task.”

Acacius pauses now. His thoughts are probably muddled from whatever he drank, and you find yourself smiling. Foolery has never been so endearing to you.

“You have been listening to me, I suppose. My requests for luck in battle have been answered, as well as my safety being ensured. Your blessings have brought my wife peace of mind, something I could not previously afford to her.”

He looks so small in your temple tonight. Normally he is not so vulnerable, but his shoulders sag as he mentions his wife. Some sort of shame runs over him at the idea that he could not ease his wife’s worries, but it makes you feel better that you could help.

“Goddess Felicitas, I come here tonight bearing no requests, just gratitude. Your blessings have soothed wounds I could not see, and I feel like a young soldier again. You invigor me.”

Then, he leaves.

You watch helplessly as he stumbles back down the steps and away from your temple, and more than ever you wish to chase him. The love he has for his wife is clear, and you hold no jealousy of that, but you wish it were you. Something in you is deeply attached to this General now. He has awoken you so much more than rekindling your power as a goddess, more than releasing you from the grief that comes with fading. Yes, Acacius has made your heart beat again, your mind curious again, and you feel seen. Being worshipped is not the same as being loved, if that were true you’d have had many children by now,

But after so long being forgotten, this feels like what you remember being loved as.

—

You try not to interact with the other Gods for the most part. They tend to meddle in things they don’t need to, and are sensitive. You are not exempt from this stereotype, but that’s only more reason for the distance.

But today, you venture to meet another deity.

Morpheus is not hard to find. He is pretty stationery where he is, usually lounging on a rock or bench near his temple, or above it in the clouds. He is a bit…dramatic, from what you remember, but wise.

Today he is stretched out on a cloud above his temple, eyes shut. His pale skin stretches taut on his bones as his lean frame breathes deeply. But, he is not asleep.

“Morpheus,” you speak.

His body rolls toward your direction, eyes still shut, but a small smile on his face.

“O young goddess Felicitas, what brings you to me?” He questions.

It’s hard not to feel embarrassed. You’ve spoken to Morpheus on very rare occasions, but he’s always been somewhat helpful, though nosy. Dreams tell a lot about people, and when he’s the one giving them to people, it’s hard to hide anything at all.

You don’t want him to know of your true affection for General Acacius, just that he is… worthy of a visit.

And so you begin to describe it to Morpheus, your need to visit Acacius. He doesn’t open his eyes at all, but he raises his eyebrows a lot and seems bemused at your situation. You’re only halfway through your rambling before he raises a gangly limb and waves at your words.

“Felicitas, you think you are the only Goddess wishing to visit her admirer? You need no explanation,” he says jovially.

Morpheus reaches into the air and pulls 6 black berries into existence, then drops them into your open palm.

“When you know he is asleep, bite down on one of these and think of him,” he describes to you.

The berries smell like nothing, but a powdery residue is left on your skin as you roll them in your palm. It doesn’t repel you at all.

Tonight, you will visit him and express the same gratitude he did to you.

—

Marcus lays next to his wife, Lucilla, with her hand in his. She fell asleep sometime ago, leaving him to lie awake by himself.

He didn’t make it to her temple tonight and the guilt is festering in his body. Marcus knows that she is a Goddess, that he probably isn’t a thought in her mind. He knows that he is just another whiney mortal, giving her food that isn’t nearly as good as whatever Gods eat. His insignificance grows as he feeds into his guilt.

Stress has permeated his life for much of it, from his time as a young soldier up until now, as a General. Battles, politics, and his family, have created a breeding ground for him to be wracked with anxieties, but he stays strong. Thanks to his time in Felicitas temple, it’s been better.

Which is why failing to make it to her temple tonight is making him feel so bad.

He grabs at the linen sheets of his bed, stressing and trying to reassure himself until he falls asleep finally.

—

Being in a dream is weird. It feels much the same as it does when you disguise yourself as a mortal, the out of body experience is semi-familiar, but it’s weird because someone else is there.

You’ve been watching the General enjoy the lake in front of him for a few minutes now. He hasn’t slipped into it, but just walks along the waterline. It seems like he is looking for something. Surely his dreams usually contain more action, or perhaps are memories, so you assume it may be strangely understimulating for him.

The appearance you’ve chosen is one of modesty, but elegance. A seafoam green peplos hangs off your frame delicately, with golden clasps at the wrists and waist. You did your hair so it would be tucked out of your face. There is no guarantee that Acacius will recognize you like this, but you look much like your statue that’s within your temple.

Swallowing your nerves, you shimmer yourself into visibility. The grassy field is odd beneath your feet, and you walk toward him with uncertainty in each step. You’ve never met with a mortal before, and you haven’t stepped on anything earthy in a long while. His broad stature only becomes more daunting as you get closer, especially since he seems so focused.

You will have to speak first. You’re much too quiet in this environment, and you must act fast lest he wake before you get his attention.

“General Acacius,” you speak firmly, though your hands shake.

This is so unfamiliar to you. You’ve barely even seen his face, as he’s usually bowed at your altar. It is the first time you’ll see him at an equal level, the first time you’ll have brought yourself to him rather than him to you.

He turns quickly, an instinctual aggressiveness toward the unknown. You stand about 10 feet from him, eyes widening.

Acacius is striking. His nose is what you focus on first, strong in shape and line, but behind it are his eyes which look to you with wide acknowledgement. His hair curls around his head in greying ringlets, like a permanent laurel crowning him. The wide expanse of his back was once impressive, but now you can see the solid wall which he becomes when facing you. Nothing could push him over it seems, a man built to stand.

Your heart squeezes the way it did the first time he gave you a request, a tender rush tingling your whole body. No words come out of either of your mouths, and the General drops to one knee instantly.

He recognizes you.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he rushes out in a breath. His chest is heaving as he bows his head and no, no this isn’t how you want this.

Your feet are moving before you can focus on your anxiety, bringing you so close to him that you can kneel too. Maybe a goddess should not kneel before a mortal general, but you are just on your knees rather than putting yourself below him. Your peplos billows a little as air rushes through it when you hit the grass.

He is above you like this, and you tilt your head to see his face again. His strong brow is furrowed, eyes squeezed shut like he is afraid of you.

“Acacius,” you say softly, “I am not here for… for ill reason. Please relax yourself.”

You lean back as he relaxes, head tipping upwards as he kneels in front of you as well. Now you can meet his eyes, see the crinkles that are beside them, and really take him in.

An energy of anxiety is shared wordlessly, with him stiff from the sight of a literal goddess, and you with the fear of… something.

The identity of your anxieties isn’t something that you can figure out. Maybe it’s too much to see such a handsome mortal, or maybe it’s that you’re going to thank him for his offerings so personally. Maybe it’s humiliation from this act. What would other Gods think of this? Is it not degrading to become so attached to a mortal? Are you no better than Zeus or Hermes, the gods who interact too intimately with mortals?

The sound of his labored breathing alerts you, calls your attention back to the present moment.

“I wanted to thank you,” you admit meekly, “for your offerings. You have been very generous and… devoted.”

His eyes are shifty, and you can see the terror in him still. You don’t want him to fear you, but you can understand why. Visits from Gods or other deities can mean trouble, but you aren’t significant like that.

“General Acacius you are the first mortal who has acknowledged me in a long time,” you offer a vulnerability, perhaps trying to soothe him.

It feels so backwards for you to be kneeling in front of him, speaking. He has done so in front of your altar for many weeks now, but now the spots are switched, yet you are still in power. You avert your gaze as you speak up, wanting to request something of him.

“You’ve been so generous to me, General, I was hoping to know more about you.”

And now, rather than scared, he seems suspicious.

“To know me?” He clarifies.

You nod.

“I only know your last name. I think I could offer more luck and splendor if we were more… personal.”

Gods that felt awful to say. You’re no better than the whorish brutes on their thrones, offering petty glories for intimacy. Everything feels flirtatious but that’s not what you’re looking for. Acacius has a wife he clearly loves, you would never want to interrupt that.

He seems to hesitate, but he knows he cannot refuse you. So far your blessings have brought ease to his life, he wouldn’t want to lose that.

“Then… yes, I suppose I can offer myself if it would please you.” He responds stoically.

And it does please you, to know his name. Marcus Acacius, the one who woke you, the one who has saved you from being a fragmented memory within the temples.

Marcus Acacius, who you are too fond of.

—

You visit him 3 more times. In an attempt to space out the usage of the berries Morpheus gave you, you only visit him once a week. The bleak tasting berries are sour on your tongue, a rotten sour which lingers once you wake up, but it’s worth it.

The two of you have grown closer, with Marcus opening up more. He tells you about the stresses in his life, how much anxiety is buried in him. But, he’s confident for the sake of his wife. You’ve learned that her name is Lucilla, and much more about her. Marcus talks about her a lot, in passing or retelling something she told him. In the small amount of time you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve gotten to know her as well.

It burns you with a strange warmth, a desire and envy which makes your stomach growl. You are hungry for him to admire you in the same way, to speak of you, but doesn’t he already? Shame grips your throat when you think of it. You are a Goddess who he sacrifices to, who he wishes to have blessings from. What more do you need? A mortal couldn't offer you what another deity could.

After the fourth meeting, you found yourself lonely. Lazing back in the clouds above your temple, you woke with a deep hunger. Marcus is beautiful, an admirable man, and he loves passionately. You are already being such a glutton for even speaking with him, meeting with him repeatedly, so why must you yearn for him too?

Worship isn’t enough, you want what you will never let yourself to have.

Nothing hints that he might feel similarly. His starry gaze which lands on you is not due to your beauty, your personality, or anything more. You have blessed him, and that is why his eyes glitter. Goddess status has never made you feel so low and isolated. Still, you are happy to help him achieve what he wishes, even as it cripples your heart.

Tonight you plan on visiting him. That fourth visit was a week and a half ago, he may be wondering where you are. He still comes to your altar each night, but the prayers are less personal. Marcus saves his stories and ramblings for when the two of you are in the field, or near the lake, when the two of you are really alone.

—

You bite into the berry at around midnight. Its tangy yet death-tasting juice floods your mouth, clinging to the crevices between your teeth and staining your gums. Closing your eyes, you think of Marcus, and his curls, and his eyes, and his nose, and his strong hands.

And then you are there, and he is waiting.

It seems like his subconsciousness has picked to be at the lake today, and he’s sat in the sand at the edge of the water. You walk over to him, but notice how… down he appears to be.

“She is not happy with me,” Marcus confesses before you even sit down.

You stand a few feet back from him, looking at how his curls fall around his bowed head.

“Lucilla?” You ask softly.

He nods.

A wicked feeling begins to steep in your heart. She is upset with him, he is in need of you for something more than a blessing.

And so you listen.

It’s one of the longer meetings the two of you have had. Marcus doesn’t cry, but he seems truly upset. He’s been called to go off somewhere far again, to fight and kill. Reassurances that you will protect him as best you can only soothe him so much.

He doesn't care if he dies, he cares that his beloved is distraught over this.

The more the two of you talk, the closer you get. There are marks on the sand from where you originally sat, but now you kneel in front of him, with creased brows and worried eyes. This isn’t something you can fix, you aren’t familiar with love and its intricacies.

His knees were tucked closer to his chest before, but they’ve loosened now and his fists rest atop them, clenching. Frustration sits on his face like a mask, one you wish to take off him.

Touching is not… something either of you partake in. Sometimes your shoulders will brush when you sit together, but nothing more has ever been initiated.

That is why it doesn’t surprise you when he flinches as your hand reaches out to rest on top of his right clenched fist.

“Marcus,” you say softly, wanting to offer comfort, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he replies swiftly.

At first it hurts, watching as he waves off your hand from his own, but then you look at his face rather than where your hands were joined. The frustrated look on his face is gone, replaced with something worse, something guilty. His eyes aren’t glittering at you like usual, nor are they hardened with anger.

They’re soft pools of conflict that mirror your own.

It doesn’t soothe your burn, satiate your envy. You can see in his eyes that maybe you aren’t alone in these feelings of admiration, of want, but maybe this is not what you want.

Maybe you want a different universe, one where he doesn’t have to be a mortal and you, a Goddess. So you wouldn’t have to worry about him dying, and have this friendship survive off death flavored berries. Maybe you want a universe where he isn’t married, where he could be yours and you wouldn’t feel like a spectator to his heart.

Maybe you want that, but you won’t get it.

Instead the flames of jealousy die in your chest and are replaced with tumors of guilt. Your whole body feels bloated, embarrassed, and ugly.

The pair of you stare at each other, a stupid realization between the both of you as you realize that your secrets have been spilled, even though it’s the same one.

His eyes don’t move from yours, so you move from his.

The sandy edge of the lake does not look so bright now, even though there are no clouds in Marcus’s dream.

“When do you leave?” You ask softly.

You will not follow him into whatever battle he’ll win. Don’t embarrass yourself, Goddess.

He tells you two weeks. You say you’ll see him before then.

Then you wake on a cloud again, with a cavity of guilt in your chest.

—

Marcus wakes alone.

Lucilla had not wanted to sleep with him that night, choosing to stay elsewhere. She didn’t tell him where, she left in a quiet flurry of tears and anguish.

It’s easier for him to feel guilt over his Goddess than it is to hurt his beloved, even if it is the same.

In a moment of frustration he grasps at the sheets, turning over and biting at his pillow. The bed is so cold, and the room smells like stale air even though the window is open, the night breezy.

He knows she is beautiful because she is a Goddess. All Goddesses are beautiful, ethereal beings that mortals cannot even comprehend at times. Marcus knows he is lucky to even perceive her, for her to have chosen to visit him.

Yet through all her blessings, he feels cursed.

A plague of emotional infidelity is crawling through his body, sticking to his bones and making him stiff. Everything he does has felt flat for so long, from pretending he is grateful to the Emperors, to now pretending nothing is wrong in his marriage. He’s scared, and exhausted.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face after rolling over and sitting up in bed, groaning into his palm.

At first he tried to blame her for it. What would a Goddess want from a successful General other than a demigod hero son? What could truly be so special about him? He assumed she was manipulating him, using some sort of power to morph his heart, but now he knows it is not true.

If she had wanted to, she would have had him by now, and he knows this. If she had wanted to, her hand would have stayed where it was tonight, and pushed him further. It isn’t unlike the Gods to force themselves on a mortal, but she didn’t.

Instead, his hand feels hot where hers rested, and his mind is spinning.

Marcus doesn’t fall asleep again, afraid that he’ll see her.

—

You wait for a full two weeks before you visit him again. He had been coming to your temple less, and you had assumed he was busy with preparations for the coming battle.

The stubbornness you felt that night has not left you. At first you did not leave your temple in fear that you would grow attached, now you remain there because you have grown attached.

“Enough is enough,” you had thought to yourself.

But it is hard not to miss him, and his soothing prayers. The way his offerings tasted of smoke and sweet, and how he’d always burn such a large portion. Marcus never gave you scraps, he seemed to refuse to.

However, you can only distance yourself so far.

It is quiet when you approach him. He is sitting in the field this time, the lake a distant glitter in your eyes. He does not face you, but his head isn’t bowed like before.

“Marcus,” you greet, your voice muted.

He raises his head, turning over his shoulder and nodding, as if to direct you to come closer, and so you do.

Tonight’s visit isn’t vulnerable, or even pleasant. Marcus seems so distant as he dryly tells you about how he’s preparing, and his wishes to return safely. His eyes barely meet your own as he talks, and he continuously twists the ring on his finger.

It grows tiring, watching him ramble about politics you could care less about, listening to him say things that have nothing to do with him. He’s so far from the friend you thought you had made. When the air between you goes quiet, you don’t fill it for a while. You listen to the sound of the wind in the grass as his eyes still will not meet yours. It’s breaking you apart.

This is the last night you’re able to visit him, unless you visit Morpheus again. You will not waste it like this.

“What is ailing you, General?” You ask, deciding to prod more than you usually do.

To your surprise, he scoffs in light laughter.

“You,” he responds quietly.

His words don’t hurt, at least not yet. You have the option to walk away now, wake yourself and leave him with his final blessings, but of course you don’t.

“Me?” You ask, “what have I done?”

Marcus rolls his shoulders back, lifting his head to look into the everblue sky above the both of you.

“You have made my life difficult, Goddess.”

Difficult? You have made his life difficult?

You have half a mind to tear him to pieces, curse him with something awful like snakes for toes, or spoons for teeth. After all that you’ve done for him, all the safety you’ve provided, he is telling you that you make things difficult? How dare he? Be outraged, Goddess, for he disrespects the holy luck which you bestowed to him.

That’s what you should think, that’s how most of you should feel.

But instead you feel small, and hurt. Yes, he is disrespecting all that you’ve given, but also you feel like a failure. Your physical existence is because of him, because he did not let you fade. All you wanted to do was make his life easier, help him to have an eased mind and a safer life.

But instead, he’s telling you you’re difficult.

It feels like your body is shrinking in the white peplos you’ve worn, the sheer fabrics swallowing you. Shame is flooding in the form of tears behind your eyes, wetting your orbs with an unexpected outburst of emotion.

“I am sorry,” you manage weakly.

Marcus does not look at you while you cry, and you want to believe it is because he cares too much to watch, but you cannot verify that.

The wind picks up again, but it does nothing to hide the soft cries you can’t hold back. Once you were a fading Goddess, now you are just a failing one.

There is no luck involved with love.

Eventually he speaks again, with his head turned away from you.

“I am sorry too,” he says. There’s a finality in his tone that makes you ache.

So much is said in such little words. He is sorry to you, for you, and with you. A sorrow is shared between the two of you, knowing that your hearts ache for one another as they are worlds apart yet on earth together.

This last berry was only supposed to mark the end of your visits, not the end of everything. It feels like this is all there is for the two of you, since it’s too complicated to continue on like this.

That’s why he doesn’t move away when you move closer and rest your head on his shoulder as tears leak down your cheeks, or at least that’s what you’ll believe.

—

Time moves weirdly when you’re immortal, but it all happens so quickly.

Marcus stopped coming to offer things for you, and so you were blessing him less. Admittedly you had kept an eye on him, but not a keen one. It didn’t feel right, not when you and him weren’t… friends anymore.

But this feels too soon, too fast, too unfamiliar. Has your sadness caused you to be blind?

You watch as a man kneels in front of Marcus, panting and bloody with a sword beside him on the ground.

The only reason you are here was because you had felt the roar of a crowd all the way at your own temple, a wide distance away. It had drawn you in, and instead you had found this.

That roaring which you had heard crescendos to a new height around you as you shimmer into existence, cloaking yourself to the mortal eyes in the stands of the coliseum, but existing enough to touch him.

Arrows stick out of his front, more crushed beneath his back, as he is slumped on the white, gravel, ground. His hair is curled with tacky blood streaking through it, and he is so, so, still.

You drag your hand across his forehead, feeling the remaining heat, and in the echo of the crowd you begin to sob.

Everything around you is moving, changing, fighting, and screaming, but you sit invisible in the center of the coliseum, running your hands over the now dead General Acacius. There is nothing you can do to bring him back, to ease Lucilla, to save him and apologize. He is dead beneath your fingers, with arrows lodged deep in his irreparable, mortal, flesh.

You were supposed to keep him safe.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you keep grasping at his armor, unable to move him or yourself. The last visit felt official, but this feels final. There is nothing more for you here, no friendship in a corpse.

Thoughts are running through your mind at the rate that your breath is puffing from your chest. The question of where he will end up in the afterlife is overwhelming you, and the chance for him to go to Elysium feels reasonable. It’s where he should be, where he deserves to go, especially after all he had done for Rome. You don’t even care why he’s here, or why he seems to have been brutally killed, but after the time you spent with him, Elysium seems right for him.

—

It’s where he should be. Elysium is where he should be.

And it’s where you find him.

His place there is somewhat similar to his and Lucilla’s home back in the mortal world, with lush greenery and airy drapes that flutter in various colours. It seems like he has left space for Lucilla here too, with space left in the chests for her things, and a permanently made half of the bed.

Elysium offers a true celebration of life for heroes, demigodly or not, and you’re sure Marcus has been enjoying that. Anything that he had been shackled to in his mortal life was gone now, and it seems that all he would have to miss is his wife.

Most of your time is spent there, in his afterlife home. You peer from behind curtains when he comes back, hidden in drapes and keeping yourself small.

He is already dead, but after the last time you abandoned him, you cannot bear to leave him alone again.

The vision of him, bloodied and murdered on the coliseum floor, flickers into your mind every time you see him lying in his bed. It’s an obsession to be near him, to be looking after him. Pluto might not even know you’re down here anymore, but what does it matter?

Marcus Acacius was the last living mortal to worship you. In the underworld, you are beginning to fade. Your fingers are slipping from you again, which is making it easier to lurk near him, but it is a painful process.

You want to speak to him. No longer do you yearn for his love, not after being in his home and seeing how dedicated his heart truly is to Lucilla, but you yearn to speak to him again. A panicked emotion runs through you at the thought of fading alone, of being entirely forgotten.

It didn’t matter before he died, fading was just something bound to happen, but now it’s more. Is he forgetting you?

—

You’ve lost most of your arms by the time you work up the courage to speak up. Lucilla arrived sometime ago, joining Marcus in the afterlife. Watching them together brought some warmth to you, some kind of happiness that you couldn’t have for yourself, but seeing it for him was enough.

You sit on the terrace of their home, invisible to their eyes, and somewhat to your own. From the tips of your fingers to just below your elbows, you are a specter. Grey shadow fills where your limbs used to be, and they pass through all objects. You couldn’t tap his shoulder if you tried.

Oftentimes you sit, hidden, and ponder by yourself about more than Marcus. There were so many things you were adamant about when he was alive, and you regret it all now. Your determination to avoid your feelings, or at least not show them, and your need to not become attached… it bites at you now, a stinging, grieving, venom, that won’t leave. Your status as a Goddess blinded you to how tender that friendship could have been, and now you sit as a ghost spectator to his afterlife, obsessed with a mortal as a fading immortal.

The tips of your fingers pass through the glass you try to grab as you think of this on the terrace. You’re glad that you’re such a minor deity, so at least you do not have to feel so humiliated about fading. A smile has just graced your face as you feel blessed for being so unimportant you can essentially stalk this mortal, when suddenly his voice cuts through the humid air of the space.

“Felicitas?” Marcus’ voice asks.

It’s so hesitant that you think you’re imagining it. You thought you had their home to yourself right now, thinking they had gone to do… whatever souls do in Elysium, but when you turn your face, he is there.

Marcus has not worn fancy clothing in a long while now, and right now is no different. He stands before you in a plain looking tunic, which just graces his knees. To see him at ease has been so nice, but he looks distressed at your sudden appearance.

You cannot find your voice as you awkwardly stand up, trying to think quickly. There is no good way to explain what you’re doing here, hidden away in him and his wife’s home. You could just vanish into thin air, but that feels wrong. He has seen you already, any attempts at pretending you aren’t here would be ridiculous.

His eyes scroll from your face down to your arms, and the smoking shadows that used to be there. Concern pinches onto his face with knitted brows and pressed together lips.

Something in you wants him to turn away, so you don’t have to think about why he is worried for you, even after all the trouble you caused, but he doesn’t.

His sandaled steps are heavy as he comes to you, reaching for your hands but finding the gesture fruitless as his own slip right through yours.

“Dulcissima,” he speaks weakly, shock woven in his words.

You had told him about fading a little while ago, when the two of you were in that field. Now it seems the severity of it has hit him.

What is hitting you is the name. Dulcissima, or sweetest. How long had it been since you had been referred to so fondly? All at once you are being remembered, recognized, and shown some affection. It feels like too much and tears are falling out of your control.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, “I was supposed to– to keep you safe.”

Marcus is shaking his head already, refusing your apology.

“No, no. You did keep me safe, you did. I pushed you away, I couldn’t control myself and I caused this,” he argues.

It does not comfort you that you both blame yourselves. You wish to reach out to him and touch his face like you should have when he was warm and alive. You want to know if he is cold now, and it’s as if he hears you.

Marcus places a hand on your cheek, a softness in his eyes and hold that says that he missed you.

“I saw you,” he claims, “when I was on the ground. You were the last thing I saw.”

Somewhere between life and death for mortals, there are moments of godly clarity. Some see the light, others see their families and memories, but in that tiny glimpse of time, some see Gods.

He was able to see you as you knelt over him, sobbing as you were cloaked to any mortal's naked eye. You were the last thing he saw, and the last thing he truly regretted.

All you can do is stiltedly nod at him, feeling like you were in trouble even though it seems he’s not upset.

For a moment, his eyes flick away, contemplative, but then he meets your gaze again.

“I told Lucilla of you, before I died. Not– not of my feelings which I struggled with, but that you were a close friend, a blessing in many ways.”

A blessing in many ways.

Another choked sob is wracked from your chest, your bottom lip curling out embarrassingly as your face contorts. He almost coos at you, the thumb on your cheek rubbing away your tears.

“Goddess, I have missed you,” he admits.

Stupid nods are all you can offer, your voice imprisoned in your ever tightening throat which cries. When he was alive he was never this tender, too confused and insecure to ever touch you, but it seems he has been regretting things too.

“Felicitas,” he says quietly, “do you come here for ill reason?”

You shake your head this time, rather than nodding. You have no reason to be here, other than the fact that guilt has taken over your mind and heart since he died.

“Then relax, dulcissima. I have an offering for you.”

Marcus relaxes his stature, eyes still gazing over you. He looks at your fading palms and you watch him swallow nervously.

“I will worship you again, lending you offerings here, and all I ask in return is for our friendship again.”

It’s the opposite of how you met, almost completely, but it’s everything you need. You will not fade, he will not struggle in marriage, and you will have one another again.

Again, you are nodding stupidly, but soon you’re embraced by him and nodding into his chest. His hands grasp at your back as he tells you how much he missed you in his final weeks, how he regrets losing you entirely, how he requires you as a friend.

You are satiated in his arms as he comforts you, awakening you again there on the terrace. Unbeknownst to you, Marcus has let tears slip down too as he holds you close.

“You will keep me safe here?” he asks jokingly.

It makes you smile, the idea of offering luck to a man who already died.

“Yes, General. I will keep you safe here, from all the horrifying glory and splendor,” you assure.

The two of you laugh, breaking the embrace but staying close. A passionate connection is still between the two of you, but in a different way now. Maybe when he was alive it was romantic because it is all you could think of, but through his death the two of you have come to understand it more.

You require one another in a unique way, and leaning on one another does not have to be intimate the way he is with his wife. Marcus does need you, just as you need him, and now that you are both immortal in a way, you will never be separated again.

please leave a comment, like, reblog, askbox, or ANYTHING. i'd love to hear thoughts on this <33

tags (people who seemed excited for this) (sorry if these dont work)

@pascalssbabyy , @moonshapedflan , @gossipgirl-03 , @kyloispunk , @frannyzooey , @coocoolahh , @bug-boy32 , @honeymarvel , @magicalmorg , @1deakybass , @tuquoquebrute , @harryshousewhore , @teeagain, @chewie-bars , @vampyyweek , @queenslandlover-93 , @amijenn , @aquanatalie

#pedro pascal #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii spoilers #gladiator 2 spoilers #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius #general acacius #general acacius x reader #lucilla x marcus #i just realized idk lucillas last name oops #pedroverse #ellie writes

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revelboo · 3 days ago

Note

Not a request but just to say thank you for all the work youve done for us!!! Your characterization’s are just top tier and I love how you build up the interactions and focus on the smaller things, really gives us a feel of everythingg

Please do take breaks though!! The rate which you write is crazy honestly😭😭😭

I can technically do these short form fics very quickly if I want to, but my day job is keeping me a bit busy right now.

Better Open The Door Pt 8

IDW Thundercracker x Reader

• Using a spare blanket to rub your hair dry, your mind keeps dredging up the memory of his lips pressing softly against your spine. He’d behaved himself after, but he’d spent more time watching your furtive attempts to wash without flashing him than even trying to wash himself. It’s just his weird fascinations with humans and you know it, but still. The feel of his lips on you had been warm, felt real even if it can’t possibly be. Groaning, you drape the blanket over your head and just hide. From him and from your own weird thoughts. From the fact that even though you should resent him, it’s hard to.

• Watching you from his desk as he fiddles with his data pad, he leans to try and tug the blanket off of you. “What are you doing?” You latch onto it, resisting and while he knows he could easily uncover you, he lets you have whatever this is. Privacy? You’re back in your coverings, so maybe you’re just tired? “I can dim the lights if you need to rest.” And there you are, peeking out at him.

• You want to ask. About his possessive words before and that touch, because you’re not sure he’s playing the same game anymore and you hate not understanding the rules. He’d taken you just to play pretend, playing house with you to satisfy some weird desire from watching too many movies. Right? Whatever that was in the wash racks hadn’t felt like playing, though. “What am I to you?”

• Don’t you already know? Reaching out to tip your chin up and smiling when you catch his servo, but don’t push him away, he studies your expression. “We’re friends, right?” He asks even though that’s not quite right at all. Wants to protect the peace you give him, your smiles and laughs that had come so easily before he’d taken you, but now they’re brittle. Unhappy with him for keeping you here. For not giving you a choice.

• “Yeah, friends,” you mutter, blowing out a breath. And as annoyed as you are with him, he’s just so genuinely invested in you, in worrying over you and trying to make you happy, that it’s hard to stay furious with him for kidnapping you. No matter what he insists, he will get bored with you. You’re not that interesting and he has to realize that. This can’t last, but it’s not like you can hate him. He’s still Thundercracker. Still painfully optimistic and hopeful, just wanting to be with you. Maybe lonely, too.

• “Best friends,” he insists, choosing to ignore it when you roll your eyes at him. “I downloaded some movies on my data pad.” Reaching for you, his servos stop shy of touching you. Giving you a choice. He misses your real smiles, wants to go back to when you trusted him. Because this uneasy tension hurts. It’s almost more lonely than he’d been before he found you. Your head tips to study his expression and he fully expects you to refuse, so when you wrap yourself in your blanket and place yourself in his servos, it means everything. He can’t tell you the truth, yet. Can’t explain why he took you, what’s coming. Because when he admits that his war is likely going to take everything from you, you really will hate him.

#transformers x reader #thundercracker x reader #idw thundercracker

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azzifuddslover · 9 hours ago

Text

off the court

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

themes: jealousy, angst, pining

word count: 3.1k

tw: alcohol use, swearing

a/n: hii my lovely’s! i honestly dk how i feel about this chapter, but i hope u guys enjoy it regardless. also please ignore the shift from past to present tense 😭 i realized i fucked it up like mid way thru but oh well! the movies i mentioned are also so good GO WATCH EM. and if u cant tell i love blushing i find it so cutesy. ALSO ONE SHOT IDEAS PLEASEEEEE. anyway, enjoy and hope y’all have a good week!

CHAPTER THREE

paige has a problem. it wasn’t that her aim was off, causing her to miss shot after shot. it wasn’t that her coach was yelling at her to get her head in the game. no, it wasn’t any of that. it was the fact paige couldn’t stop thinking about the curly brunette, even if her life depended on it.

ever since practice a few days ago, when azzi’s body was flush against hers, azzi had owned paige’s mind. and since her head is elsewhere, she failed to focus on everything else, especially basketball.

“what’s wrong with you?” nika asks paige, confused as to why her game was off, which is extremely rare for her.

without basketball, paige had nothing. basketball gave paige life, ever since a young age. even after trying other sports, her heart was always set on basketball. so when paige’s game had been acting up, it made her teammates, as well as coaches, confused.

paige glances at nika, “what? nothing.”

nika gave paige a don’t bullshit me look, “paige, cmon. you’ve been missing shots all day. something’s gotta be up.”

paige didn’t, wouldn’t tell nika about paige’s tiny issue. “i don’t know. bad day, i guess.”

“well get your shit together. we need you for tomorrow’s game.”

paige looks over at azzi, who was on the opposite side of the gym with caroline, “don’t worry, i will.”

later that night, paige was already laying in bed when her phone buzzes. it was a text from aubrey, asking the team group chat if anyone wanted to hang.

dorka, paige’s roommate, was already quietly sleeping on the opposite side of the room. paige looks at the time, 9:41 pm; she figured hanging out with her friends wasn’t the worst idea.

paige soon arrives at aubrey’s dorm. she opens the door to find a variety of her teammates; nika was seated on aubrey’s bed along with aubrey, lou was on the floor, while azzi and caroline were on jana’s bed, who wasn’t present.

fuck. of course azzi would show up, despite it being late at night. it was as if azzi somehow knew paige had been thinking about her- appearing just to torment her.

the two met eyes, paige held eye contact a tad longer than she normally would. heat creeped up azzi’s neck.

since there wasn’t much room on either beds, paige slumps against the bed azzi was sitting on.

“so what were y’all doing before i came in?” paige questions her teammates.

“trying to decide on a movie, but nobody is agreeing,” nika replies, annoyance in her voice.

“i say we watch she’s the man, but everyone here doesn’t have good taste, so nobody agrees with me,” aubrey says, rolling her eyes.

paige turns her head up to azzi, “what was your suggestion?”

azzi was caught off guard by paige’s question, “uh, i said about time.”

“oh my god, i love that movie. i agree with azzi,” paige announces.

azzi was shocked, to say the least. she never imagined a world where paige would agree with her.

they settle on about time. nika grabbed a few snacks and passed them around, while lou brought a few drinks in from the tiny kitchen.

a couple minutes into the film, paige grew uncomfortable with her spot on the ground. azzi noticed it by the constant shifting she had been doing. azzi reaches down to tap paige’s shoulder.

“you can come up here if you’re uncomfortable,” azzi whispers so the others wouldn’t be disturbed, while softly patting the spot next to her on the bed.

paige notices that her and carol had already shifted down, making room for paige. her lips curled into a small smile.

without a second thought, paige lifts from the floor and gently sets herself next to azzi, thighs nearly touching.

“thanks,” paige whispers. azzi simply nodded her head.

throughout the movie, paige’s thigh would occasionally graze azzi’s, sending butterflies to her stomach. there was a spark between the two, surely azzi felt it too.

caroline passes a bag of popcorn over to azzi, who instantly begins consuming it.

“can i have some?” paige questions lightly so she didn’t cause distractions for the others.

“of course,” azzi smiles, placing the popcorn in the middle of them.

their hands would graze while both going for the popcorn, paige let her touch linger longer than she should. she knew better. but her secret azzi fudd obsession got the better of her.

“sorry,” paige mutters, pulling her hand away after embarrassment covered her features.

“i don’t mind,” azzi looks at paige, a soft expression on her face.

paige had always been beautiful to azzi, but in this lighting, in aubrey’s small dorm, sitting on the same bed, mere inches apart, paige looked unreal. her blonde hair was the perfect kind of messy, lips were light pink, eyes so blue that they were practically transparent. paige’s cheeks flush at azzi’s eyes solely focused on her.

“okay guys! i’m exhausted, i’ll see y’all tomorrow,” nika jumps up from her spot, causing heads to look over at her.

paige and azzi took their attention away from each other, despite it being the hardest thing paige had to do.

“yeah, i should go too,” azzi agrees, beginning to move off the bed.

“same,” paige says, also moving from her spot.

the three say their goodbyes before leaving out aubrey’s dorm door. during the short walk down the hallway, the girls discuss their excitement for the first game of the season. they came to the end of the hall, where they could go either left, right, or continue straight. nika headed straight, off to her room. paige was going left, while azzi was going right. but both didn’t make any hints to move yet.

paige leans against the wall, azzi mimics her by doing the same on the opposite wall. a small smile crept onto her lips.

“you ready for tomorrow’s game?” paige questions the younger girl.

“beyond ready,” azzi’s smile only grows. she’s been waiting for this moment since before she could remember; her very first game in college basketball.

“you better be. i’m definitely gonna need you,” paige says without thinking. her eyes widen at her use of i’m. “we, i mean.”

azzi’s cheeks redden at paige’s comment about her needing azzi. not the team- her, accident or not.

“are you ready? you seemed kinda distracted at practice,” azzi brings up.

“i’m fine,” paige says harsher than she meant.

not wanting to deal with paige’s attitude, azzi sighs, “alright. see you tomorrow.”

paige desperately wanted azzi to stay with her. she wanted to grab her by the hand and pull her close; but she knew she couldn’t do that.

“yeah, see ya.”

the next morning, paige immediately shuts down any azzi thoughts from the previous day. she needs to focus on the game. it was the first of the season, and she eagerly wanted to make it a good one.

she brushes her teeth, washes her face, dresses herself, as dorka did the same.

“ready for this, p?” dorka smiles, excitement buzzing off her tall frame.

“always,” she matches her smile.

the two girls grab their bags and head down to the dining hall to grab some breakfast. nika, aubrey, jana, lou, carol and azzi were already seated and eating away.

paige prepares her meal before taking the spot besides jana, directly across from none other than azzi. they quickly lock eyes before looking away equally as quickly.

the team discusses plays they wanted to run in the upcoming game, all participating and giving suggestions. they soon finish eating before heading down to the gym for some smaller workouts, to get somewhat warmed up.

paige was still struggling to make her shots that she’d normally be making. when azzi notices, she casually walks over.

“can i suggest something?” azzi asks.

paige looks over at her, “hm?”

azzi strolls closer to the older girl, close enough to where paige felt her breath on

the back of her neck.

“what are you doing?” paige asks, breathlessly.

azzi places her hand on paige’s, adjusting it to where she liked. she then moves her elbow, “fixing your form.”

once azzi was done, paige shoots the ball, and is surprised to see it actually go through the basket.

“thanks, i guess,” paige grins.

the two girls continue shooting, getting their reps in when the time came to begin actual warm ups.

the game was about to begin; paige, nika, aubrey, azzi and jana were the starting 5. azzi feels an intense amount of pressure to do well, since she’s the only freshmen starting tonight.

the five girls huddle together, wide grins on their smiles, beyond ready to get this season going. paige speaks words of encouragement to her teammates as they all get into position.

uconn was up by 31 points, azzi having 19 while paige has 21.

paige runs the ball up the court, eyeing each teammate of hers. she passes the ball over to nika, who throws it over to azzi. she effortlessly makes the open 3, causing loud roars from the uconn student section.

the team was on a 9-0 run in the third quarter when paige sprints near half court and collides with a member from the other team.

azzi watches it happen and rushes over a little too quickly, for someone who claimed to hate her. azzi appears in front of the older girl, who was lying on the floor face up, and gently places her hands on her knees.

“are you okay?” azzi asks, worry laced in her tone.

paige was silent for a moment, still dazed by the impact. but when she glanced up at the brunette, a sense of calm quickly washed over her.

“yeah,” she answers, grabbing azzi’s hands that were being held out to her.

their hands held onto one another’s a moment too long. their bodies were slightly touching; neither made any movements.

it wasn’t until coach auriemma yelled at them did either of the girls make a move. paige was substituted for ashlynn to rest, and eventually, azzi was also subbed out for caroline to give other players a chance to play, as they were dominating the opposing team.

azzi settles down next to paige, the only spot open on the bench. their thighs were full on touching since the seats were so tight.

azzi rests her elbows on her knees before turning to paige, “you sure you’re okay? that fall looked like it hurt.”

paige smiles at azzi’s worry, “why? do you care or something?” she teases.

azzi’s face lit up with red, “um, no. of course not.”

paige lets out a soft chuckle before playfully pushing the brunette’s face, who who responds with a wide grin, dimples and all.

paige matches her smile with one of her own. god. she was otherworldly.

“you’re so fucking pretty,” paige mumbles, barely audible for azzi to hear, while dropping her heads, wrapping her arms under.

“sorry, what’d you say?”

“nothing,” paige replies, definitely not repeating her words.

the game ends, the teams high five one another before heading to the locker rooms.

“guys, since we played so well today, we should definitely celebrate,” jana suggests.

“what are you thinking?” nika asks, a smile tugging at her lips.

“ted’s, of course,” she laughs, “is everyone good with 7?”

each team member agree to meet at ted’s, the bar most uconn students attended, around 7. paige was buzzing at the idea of a dirty shirley temple, desperately needing one to get her mind off someone.

paige showered, applied light makeup, and picked out a comfortable but nice outfit.

around 6:55, paige leaves her apartment with dorka at her side, heading to ted’s.

the bar was absolutely packed with uconn students as well as the women’s basketball team. nika was talking to the bartender, aubrey was laughing at something jana said, while azzi was throwing back a shot.

the air seemed to shift when paige’s gaze lands on the young brunette. her heart instantly quickens as she took in her outfit. a light purple tank top that fit her in all the right places, paired with jean shorts that were doing wonders for her ass. her curls were down, slightly messy but in the most beautiful way possible.

making eye contact with paige causes azzi’s breath to hitch. heat floods her cheeks as she remembers the moments between them from earlier today.

stepping closer to the bar, paige lowers herself into an open seat, directly across from azzi who was completely surrounded by teammates. dorka took the spot next to her while lou made herself over to the two girls.

“dorka! p!” lou greets them, clearly already drunk.

“hey lou lou,” dorka smiles at her friend.

paige waves over the bartender, “can i please have a dirty shirley temple?”

the bartender nods, immediately reaching for a glass. paige was dying for a drink in her hand to take her mind off everything and everyone.

the shirley burns her throat as she took several gulps, downing nearly half the glass.

“calm down there, p,” dorka laughs at paige’s urgency to consume the drink as fast as possible.

“just thirsty,” paige replies.

after finishing her second shirley temple is when she noticed a tall man talking to azzi. her azzi. her fists clench at her sides as she throws a glare their way.

the man then lowers himself into the open seat next to her while casually shifting close, making their faces mere inches apart. azzi fidgets with her fingers, suddenly nervous from the attention.

paige presses her lips in a line to hold back her growing anger that was screaming to come out. all she wanted to do was walk over there and take what’s hers.

paige orders several more drinks, shots, whatever she could to hopefully get rid of the scene in front of her.

when a piece of azzi’s hair falls in front of her face, the man reaches out and brushes it behind her ear. his hand lingers for a moment too long, only causing paige to become more aggravated.

azzi laughs at something he said and paige decides she’s had enough. although she was completely aware she shouldn’t be doing this, she was supposed to hate azzi, she couldn’t help herself. she clutches her drink tightly in her grasp, a idea trickling in her head, and marches over there.

azzi almost instantly spots the blonde moving towards her at a rapid pace. her eyes widen when paige accidentally trips, spilling her drink all over the man.

satisfaction covered paige’s features, proud of her doing.

“jesus fucking christ!” he yelps, quickly jumping up from his position next to azzi.

“i am so sorry,” paige pretends to be genuine and concerned, even though herself and azzi knew it was complete bullshit.

the man grabs napkins, desperately trying to pat himself down, but ultimately failing. he walks away without as much as a glance back at the curly brunette, who continues to remain silent.

“did you seriously have to do that?” azzi questions paige, annoyance on her face.

“it was an accident, azzi,” paige sighs.

“sure it was,” azzi mutters as she grips her drink.

“it was,” paige replies defensively.

paige allows herself to sit where the man once was, feeling the air grow electric with the two being so close. azzi looks almost shaken by their close proximity, her eyes roaming paige’s body.

“paigey!” nika slurs, suddenly grabbing paige’s shoulders.

paige turns to her friend who was beaming, “what’s up nik?”

“oh my goodness, you totally missed it…” nika rants on and on about the hot bartender who was totally checking her out.

“i’ll be back,” nika grins as she jogs off to talk with the bartender once again.

“at least she’s getting some action,” azzi says, rolling her eyes.

“oh my god, i am so sorry i ruined the two minute conversation you had with some idiot. if you’re so interested in him, then be my guest; go find the fucker.”

“maybe i will,” azzi bites out, getting up from her spot and taking off towards the crowd.

it shocks paige that azzi actually went through with it- disappoints her, too. did she genuinely like the guy?

regretting her words, paige follows azzi’s trail, quickly catching up to the freshmen. she grabs her arm, making her twist around to face her.

“please, wait,” paige slurs in her drunken state.

“what do you want?” azzi questions, desperate to know paige’s intentions.

“you,” paige whispers, so quietly azzi can barely make it out.

“speak up, paige,” azzi replies, annoyed.

“please don’t go after him.”

azzi’s eyes crinkle, “and why not? you’re not my keeper.”

paige rests her hands on either one of azzi’s hips, uncontrollably pulling the younger girl closer.

“i know. i know,” she whispers, “just stay. stay here with me.”

azzi was taken aback from paige’s soft tone and sweet words. it was unlike paige to be like this to azzi, so azzi pieced together she must be drunk out of her mind.

“you’re drunk, paige,” azzi says.

“i’m sober enough,” paige’s lips turn up as she moves her hands to azzi’s face.

with her face in her hands, paige rests her forehead against the curly brunette’s, while her gaze drops down to her full, pink lips.

“what are you doing, paige?”

paige closes her eyes, not wanting to think about everything wrong with what she was doing and how it’d be like tomorrow.

“i don’t know. fuck, i don’t know. i just want to be close to you,” she whispers.

azzi gently places her hands on paige’s waist, pulling the older girl impossibly closer.

“fuck, az,” paige mutters, “i can’t stop thinking about you.”

paige was all azzi could hear, despite the loud crowd and blasting music around her. and her words meant everything.

“no matter how hard i try, you’re always there. you with your perfect curls and cute ass dimples,” paige smiles, twisting with a singular curl with her finger.

“oh yeah?” azzi matches the grin.

“yeah,” paige says, gaze focused on her lips.

right as paige leans in, azzi suddenly jerks back, her eyes wide with panic.

“p- paige, no. you’re drunk. you’ll regret it tomorrow,” she stutters, frantically stepping out of paige’s touch.

paige reaches out for azzi’s frame, “no i won’t.”

practically tripping over herself, azzi rushes over to her previous seat with paige right on her heels. she grabs her belongings before giving a lone glance back at the blonde; she was breathing hard, hands slightly shaking, with a disappointed yet shameful expression on her face.

azzi turns away and is gone before paige had the time to blink.

“god fucking dammit,” paige mutters to herself, ashamed of her actions that caused azzi to run off.

paige finds an open spot at the bar and orders yet another round of shots, not caring about the concerned looks she was receiving from her teammates.

paige swallows shot after shot, trying to drown her sorrows and any lingering thoughts of azzi. of course she had to ruin whatever was happening between them. of course.

“paige, don’t you think that’s enough for tonight?” aubrey cautiously questions her friend.

paige drunkenly chuckles, “not even close,” throwing back another burning shot.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #uconn wbb #nika muhl #uconn huskies #basketball #paige x azzi #fanfic #pazzi fics #paige buckets #fan fiction #uconn women’s basketball

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7ndipity · 3 days ago

Text

Finding Out Their Crush Is Dating Someone

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How the members would react to finding out that their crush is in a relationship/seeing them with their partner

Warnings: angst, swearing,

A/N: thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin: He would try his best to carry on with your friendship as if nothing was amiss, but he wouldn’t be able to hide his distaste for your partner, avoiding being around them as much as possible, which unfortunately means avoiding you at times as well. The growing tension between you would likely result in you either drifting apart for a while, or him eventually confessing after you call him out on it, tho what the outcome of that would be is unclear.

Yoongi: He wouldn’t dare show it, not even to friends who might know about his feelings towards you, but he’s devastated. This is the exact thing he was afraid would happen, bc like you’re amazing, of course you would find somebody. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to watch it happen. He would try to continue your friendship as normal, but there’s an invisible wall that’s been built between the two of you now that you don’t understand.

Hobi: You know the “This is fine, I’m okay with the events unfolding around me.” meme? That’s Hobi rn. Honestly tho, he would try his hardest to act as though it doesn’t bother him, bc at least you’re happy, but he lowkey feels like his heart’s getting wrung out every time he sees you with your partner. He might consider pulling away for a bit, but he loves you too much to actually do so, so he just tries to ride it out and hope his feelings will calm over time…

Namjoon: oooh boy, you’re now the new fan-favorite break-up track on his next album. No but fr, he would be soo angsty and sulky about the situation, avoiding you for days/weeks after finding out. He knows it’s not fair to just shut you out without any real explanation, but he’s afraid of how sharing his feelings would fuck up your friendship even more. It would end up spiraling into a fight when you confront him about his weird behavior and he finally spills the truth.(I want to believe that y’all would work it out in the end but🤷)

Jimin: I feel like in his mind, he wants to handle it maturely and pretend nothing’s wrong, but in reality, he completely ices you both out. It’s his knee-jerk response whenever he’s hurt, and so he just leaves it to you to try and figure out why he’s suddenly so upset with you. He might even go back to normal just as suddenly bc he misses you, and just pretends like he wasn’t avoiding you, leaving you even more lost about what the fuck is going on.

Taehyung: Oooh this boy, he would be soo fucking dramatic, sulking and acting as if you’ve dumped him, even tho you never actually went out or talked about his feelings in the first place. He’d blame your partner for “stealing you away”, even tho they likely don’t have a clue about his feelings for you either. If you confront him and ask him what’s up, he’ll likely spill the whole thing immediately, but he won’t dare bring it up himself out of fear of rejection and ruining your friendship.

Jungkook: You’re seeing someone?! Behind his back?! Even though he never actually told you that he had feelings for you, so you have no clue what the fuck is going on?! Fr tho, he would be soo angsty, moping and avoiding you for days, ignoring your calls and texts. This would only last for a few days tho before his feelings start to eat him alive and he’s showing up at your place and pouring his heart out to you. He doesn’t care if it’s too late or you reject him, he just needs you to know.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @universal-travel-er @k4ngelz

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dissapointu · 2 days ago

Note

Hey can I ask for how arcane characters would celebrate their s/o's birthday. My birthday is coming tomorrow (same day when Act 3 is released and I'm not ready 😭)

Happy (early) birthday!, Mine is coming up on Sunday! I hope you like this annon- my requests are filled to the brim so sorry if this took a bit long for me to get to-

Jinx

Jinx goes all out with chaotic creativity. She’d make you a wild, explosive “birthday surprise” (don’t worry, the explosions are just colorful fireworks this time). The celebration would be an adventure—she’d set up a scavenger hunt across Zaun, leading to a hideout decorated with glowing lights, mismatched balloons, and her unique artwork. The night would end with a heartfelt (but chaotic) gift she made herself, reflecting how much you mean to her.

Vi keeps it simple but meaningful. She’d spend the entire day with you, taking you to your favorite spots in Zaun (or Piltover if you’re feeling adventurous). Expect her to show up with a small, thoughtful gift—maybe a charm or bracelet symbolizing her commitment to you. She’d throw in a surprise, like a home-cooked meal or sparring lessons where you always “win.”

Sevika

Sevika would take you to one of the classier underground bars in Zaun, ensuring the atmosphere was just right. She’d have the bartender make your favorite drink and possibly even toast to you in front of everyone. Her gift would be something practical but meaningful, like a custom-made piece of armor or a knife engraved with your name. She wouldn’t say much, but her actions would scream, You’re everything to me.

Silco

Silco would celebrate your birthday with understated elegance. He’d arrange a private dinner in his office, with candles casting a soft glow over the room. His gift would likely be something rare and meaningful—perhaps an artifact with a story or a promise of future security. He’d also take time to express his feelings, which is rare for him, making the moment even more special.

Vander

Vander would keep it warm and heartfelt. He’d organize a gathering at The Last Drop with your closest friends, ensuring there’s good food, drinks, and laughter all around. He’d give you a gift that resonates deeply, like a hand-carved trinket or something symbolic of the family you’ve built together. He’d make sure the day felt safe and full of love.

Ekko

Ekko would use his inventive mind to create a birthday you’d never forget. He’d set up the Firelights’ hideout with glowing murals and lanterns, creating a magical atmosphere. His gift would be something handmade, like a small invention or a piece of art. The night would be filled with music, laughter, and his infectious energy, all focused on celebrating you.

Jayce

Jayce would celebrate with grandeur. He’d book a beautiful venue or take you to a fancy restaurant in Piltover. He’d make sure everything was perfect, from your favorite dishes to a heartfelt toast about how amazing you are. His gift would likely be something extravagant, like a custom piece of jewelry or a groundbreaking invention dedicated to you.

Viktor

Viktor would celebrate your birthday with quiet, thoughtful gestures. He’d invite you to his lab, where he’d surprise you with a small, meaningful invention tailored to your interests. He’d also take the time to express his appreciation for you, likely in the form of a handwritten letter. The day would end with the two of you sharing a quiet moment, away from the world.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would plan an elegant birthday celebration. She’d take you to a picturesque part of Piltover, where you’d enjoy a private picnic or a fine dining experience. Her gift would be something sentimental, like a beautifully framed photo of the two of you or a token from one of your shared adventures.

Mel Medarda

Mel would make your birthday a masterpiece. She’d commission a stunning piece of art in your honor and host a luxurious gathering with Piltovan elite. Her gift would be thoughtful and extravagant, like a handcrafted piece of jewelry or a beautiful outfit tailored just for you. She’d spend the entire evening making sure you felt like royalty.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would celebrate your birthday with strength and style. She’d organize a feast worthy of a warrior, complete with toasts and a bold declaration of her affection for you. Her gift would be something practical and meaningful—perhaps a weapon or armor, designed with your needs in mind. She’d make sure you knew your worth in her eyes.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie would celebrate with a warm and personal touch. She’d bake you a delicious cake and organize a cozy get-together with close friends and family. Her gift would be something heartfelt, like a scrapbook of your memories together or a thoughtful keepsake. She’d make the day feel safe, special, and full of love.

Lest

Lest would celebrate with a mix of humor and sincerity. She’d tease you about getting older but then surprise you with a heartfelt gift, like a handcrafted piece of jewelry or an item she noticed you’d been wanting. The celebration would be low-key, filled with laughter and quiet moments of affection, showing how much she cherishes you.

I hope this adds to your excitement for your birthday! Have an amazing day filled with love, joy, and perhaps some Arcane watching!

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prythianpages · 7 hours ago

Text

Out of My Head | Azriel x Reader

Azriel x Reader x Eris | Your father, the Night Court’s astrologer, is called to Velaris and you tag along with the hopes of catching a glimpse of Azriel, the one you’re madly in love with. The opportunity for Azriel to show you around comes up and you take it, unaware that things are about to become messy…

warning: this was meant to be cute & short to show your relationship with Az but it ended up being 5,685 words oops lol, some angst, rhys kinda being an asshole again

a/n: Eris does make an appearance in this if you look closely 🤭 I tried to write this fic off as a stand alone so it's still easy to follow but if you need more context, here is the masterlist.

Meeting Azriel had felt like fate, as if the stars and his shadows themselves had conspired to cross your paths. Becoming his friend had been a choice. But falling in love with him? That was out of your control, like being swept away by a tide you hadn’t noticed rising.

Now, you were drowning and happy to drown. To let the flood of him consume you entirely. Every time you’d see him, even from afar, it’d fill your chest with a feeling you couldn’t explain, your heart leaping at the mere thought of catching his gaze.

You welcomed the flood of emotions, let it carry you to depths you’d never dared to explore. Your heart was so irrevocably his, you had no desire to find the surface.

So when Rhysand had invited your father to Velaris to discuss his first born’s birth chart, you insisted on coming along. It had taken days of pleading to wear down his resolve, but you had done it. Manifested it, rather, with the help of the moonwater you kept hidden beneath your bed.

Seeing Azriel was not guaranteed, as you were unsure if he’d even be in Velaris. But that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to go. Leaving behind the harshness of the Court of Nightmares, even for a short while, was reward enough. And if fortune smiled upon you, perhaps your father would let you assist with the reading, just this once.

Your father had never quite embraced your desire to follow in his footsteps. The way he’d look at both you and your brother with that disappointed gleam in his eyes stung. He had always hoped you would stay at home and learn the ways of a “perfect,” traditional Night Court wife, much like your mother. His dreams of a successor rested squarely on your brother’s shoulders, not yours. But much to his dismay and your relief, your brother had chosen to become a warrior in Keir’s army.

Everything you knew of astrology, you’d learned by sneaking into his sessions, stealing glances at his star charts, or losing yourself in the dusty books of the Night Court’s observatory. That cold, stone-walled tower had become your sanctuary—your only glimpse of the night sky.

Though still in the Night Court, the air in Velaris was different. It felt cleaner, lighter. Freer. A wonderful contrast to the oppressive weight of the Court of Nightmares. You took a deep breath, savoring the rare glimpse of the day sky from the High Lord’s impressive townhouse, your father having just winnowed you both.

The sun felt so warm and soothing against your skin. Too caught up in the beauty of the daytime sky, you didn’t notice when your father abruptly stopped. You walked straight into him, sending the heavy box and stack of books in your arms tumbling to the ground.

A hiss of disapproval escaped your father as he turned to scowl at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, quickly dropping to your knees to gather the scattered items.

“I should’ve left you at home,” he said with an exhausted sigh.

"But who then would assist you in bearing the weight of all these books, given the state of your back? Rest assured, my arms are more than capable,” you said with a huff as you slowly rose back to your feet, arms overwhelmed with the weight of your father’s things. “I shall gladly bear the burden for you, father."

“Clearly.” Your father said dryly, his gaze pointedly lingering on the dented corner of one of the boxes.

You winced at his tone, grateful his back was turned to you again. The door to the High Lord’s and High Lady’s house opened, the former being the one to greet you. Even Rhysand was different here. His violet eyes gleamed warmly, free of the cruelty he wore like armor in the Court of Nightmares. The smile he sent you both softened some of the tension knotting your chest.

“Damus, Y/n,” he greeted. “I appreciate you both coming all this way.”

Rhysand gestured for you to follow him. This was not your first time in Velaris but it was your first time meeting Rhysand in a private residence of his here. You couldn’t hold back the small gasp that escaped you as you marveled at the beauty around. Paintings, no doubt crafted by the hands of your High Lady, adorned the wall and there was light. So much light and warmth in this house. It truly felt like a home. No stone walls, no darkness, no cold.

There was a flutter in your chest when you felt something cool and velvet-like brush against your legs. You instinctively glanced down, though the books obstructed your view. And when you looked back up, there it was–that giddy leap in your heart.

Azriel immediately rose from the couch he had been seated on, his hazel eyes meeting yours before they dropped to the weight in your arms. With a few swift steps, he was in front of you, plucking the boxes and books from your grip as though they weighed nothing. You exhaled softly, your thanks barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears.

Azriel smiled, shadows curling gently around him as he shifted closer. “I wasn’t sure you’d be coming along today,” he murmured.

“Neither was I,” you admitted, turning your head toward him as you continued to walk. “But I’m glad I did.”

“So am I,” Azriel said.

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you quickly averted your gaze. Azriel was glad you were here. Perhaps, even waiting for you, hoping for you to show up. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Perhaps it was proof of what you’d always suspected—that the bond you felt pulling you toward him wasn’t one-sided. A spark of vindication flared as you imagined Eris sneering at you from some dark corner of your mind. If only he were here to witness this moment. To see just how wrong he’d been.

Azriel did like you and it was only a matter of time before it evolved into something more.

You frowned, shaking the thought away. Why were you even thinking about Eris? And since when did proving anything to him matter?

“Y/n.” Your father’s sharp tone dragged you back to reality. “The books.”

“Oh,” you breathed, glancing at Azriel, who still held them. Before you could speak, your father’s gaze darkened as he realized the task you were supposed to handle had been passed off.

Azriel’s jaw tightened but he said nothing as he handed the books and boxes over.

You moved to follow your father into the study, but he blocked your path, his glare cutting through you. “Stay here and don’t cause trouble,” he said before the door shut with a resounding thud.

You flinched, staring at the closed door. “Sweet Cauldron,” you muttered under your breath, “did Mercury retrograde move into his mood?”

A shadow curled around your wrist, the soft caress of it soothing the sting of your father’s dismissal. The corner of your lips lifted slightly. Azriel had told you once how the shadows came to him during a time of unbearable darkness, offering comfort when nothing else could. They showed him that darkness wasn’t inherently wicked, that it could hold its own kind of solace and strength.

Azriel had also told you that his shadows didn’t approach others. At least not like this, so openly and friendly. To them, you were one of the few exceptions, having met them before you properly acquainted yourself with their master.

You often wondered why. Did they sense the sorrow you tried to bury beneath and conceal? The longing that seeped into your soul–longing not just for their master but for freedom, for a life beyond the suffocating confines of the Court of Nightmares?

Your gaze lifted, finding Azriel’s attention focused on the tendril wrapped around your wrist. His hazel eyes darkened slightly, thoughtful, as if trying to decipher a mystery.

“Well, what am I supposed to do now?”

Azriel blinked, his attention falling back to you, gaze softening. The siphons on his leathers caught the light and your eye. You followed the movement of his arms as he slid his hands into the pocket of his leathers and wondered what they’d look like in casual clothing. And how far did those tattoos stretch, the ones that peeked above his collar and disappeared into those leathers?

“We could go for a walk?”

Your brows lifted in surprise. “A walk?”

Azriel sauntered closer to you and a tingly sensation bubbled up in your stomach. “It’s a beautiful day outside and I would hate for you to waste it in here.”

“But my father…”

“He doesn’t have to know,” Azriel replied with a small, sly grin that felt almost boyish, his shadows dancing around him. He then gestured toward the door to Rhysand’s study, where some of his shadows had already slithered beneath the gap, lying in wait. “Your father will be in there for a while. And besides, I did promise you I’d show you around, didn’t I?”

You bit your lip in contemplation, gaze flickering between the door and Azriel. This was what you’d wanted, been hoping for, wasn’t it? A chance to see Azriel, and now here he was, offering you his time. Your heart leaped at the opportunity, already screaming yes.

But your mind wasn’t so easily swayed. What if your father needed you? Wouldn’t this be your perfect chance to prove your worth, to show him how capable you were? Then again, the way he had dismissed you earlier, slamming the door in your face, made it clear he wasn’t expecting or even wanting your help…

“Only if you’d like, of course,” Azriel added, his tone soft. He must’ve sensed your troubled thoughts. “I can always keep you company here instead.”

The flutter in your chest returned with full force. Azriel seemed to really want to spend time with you. Alone. And as much as you admired the beauty of the High Lord’s house, the promise of fresh air, open skies, and Azriel’s company was too tempting to resist.

You found yourself nodding, your heart overriding your head. “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

Velaris continued to take your breath away.

Children darted between market stalls, their faces alight with pure delight as they chased one another without fear. So incredibly and unbelievably different to the cold silence and rigid rules of propriety in Hewn City. Here, no one glanced over their shoulder with suspicion or hurried along with their head bowed.

The people of Velaris moved freely. Kindness radiated from strangers who greeted one another warmly, who paused to chat in the bustling markets or helped an elder carry their bags. Artists lined the streets, painting the city’s beauty on canvas while musicians filled the air with beautiful melodies.

Azriel led you through the city, showing you as many places he could. He took you to a small bakery first, where he swore the best chocolate croissants were made. Then, to a cafe that sold a variety of appetizing teas. You drank it all in, committing the wonders of Velaris to memory.

As you walked along a bridge, the river’s gentle current caught your eye. It was broad daylight yet, the water glimmered like liquid starlight. You paused, resting against the bridge’s railings. Azriel moved to stand beside you, tucking in his wings so they wouldn’t bump against you.

You couldn’t help but think how unfair life could be. For a place such as Hewn City to exist at the same time as this one. Both of the same court, yet so divided. And why had you been born in the wrong one?

Azriel picked up on the way your expression had fallen. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said and at the way Azriel’s eyes watched you closely, you knew he was not convinced. You let out a soft sigh, relenting.

“It’s just…I thought places like this only existed in my dreams,” you glanced down at your hands. “And now, I just can’t help but dread my attendance at the next Court of Nightmare’s ball even more…when I could be here instead, watching the stars from the City of Starlight itself..free of any worry, any burdens.”

Azriel frowned at the hidden implication of your words.

A dark tendril fluttered toward you, brushing the hair that had fallen back behind your ear. Another softly brushed against your face and wiped a stray tear away. More went to you, wrapping around your hands, seeking to give you comfort and you honestly weren’t sure if it was of their own will or Azriel’s.

Their comfort brought you back to the fateful night you first met them. You’d known of them–of the Night Court’s shadowsinger, at least–long before you actually knew them. The same way you had known Cassian was the Night Court’s leading general and Morrigan, the court overseer.

Things had changed after the events under the mountain. High Lord Rhysand had gathered the Court of Nightmares council, a tense meeting filled with bitter accusations thrown across the room. Keir and a few other noble lords, including your father, sat around the table, each one arguing fiercely over who did what under Amarantha’s rule.

As the heated exchange unfolded, your father’s loyalty was questioned, and the words left you unsettled. You had nearly spilled wine over one of the lords in your discomfort, hands trembling as you failed to properly grip the chalice.

But then, a dark shape emerged from the shadows, winding its way around your wrist like a silent guardian. The shadow stayed there, curling around you in such a way that was strangely comforting.

You had snuck glances at the shadowsinger then.

Azriel stood just behind Rhysand, his face a stoic mask. His attention was elsewhere, either unaware or pretending to be, of the shadow that had strayed from him and wrapped around you.

A break was called. And then, Keir, always the one to provoke, threw an insult at your father. You had no control over your tongue, the words slipping from you without thought. It was in defense of your family but speaking out of turn was a dangerous thing for a female to do. Especially in this court.

And though you had done it in your father’s defense, he did not return the favor. His face twisted in a mixture of disgust and disapproval, making you feel smaller than you ever had.

Keir’s face reddened with rage and as he glared at you, the shadow around your wrist tightened. Azriel’s eyes flashed, a cold, sharp stare locking onto Keir. It was the closest thing to protection anyone had offered you in this ruthless court. It left you stunned and wide-eyed.

You had been quickly dismissed by your father then. The weight of your court’s cruelty pressed down on you, suffocating. You fled, finding an empty room, locking yourself away in a cold, lonely corner of the building.

And then the tears came. You didn’t even notice the darkness that had formed around you, so accustomed to the shadows yourself. But this wasn’t the same darkness. This one was… different. Comforting. Protective.

You could only stare at them in awe, one hand reaching upwards to touch the shadows.

But when the door creaked open, your hand fell back to your side. Fear had risen in your throat as your gaze shot to the tall figure in the doorway. You shifted backwards, your back hitting the stone wall behind you, fearing the worst. It was the shadowsinger. And he had come to punish you on behalf of your father.

But he did no such thing.

His eyes swept over the shadows surrounding you—his shadows. The mask of indifference he always wore slipped for just a moment. A faint furrow appeared between his brows, shock flashing in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, sending the shadows a look that had them slithering back to him, albeit reluctantly. “If they’ve scared you. They don’t normally do this…are you alright?”

You blinked the tears from your eyes. “You’re not going to punish me?”

His brow furrowed deeper, confusion crossing his face. “Punish you? For what?”

There was a flicker of recognition in his gaze, followed by a soft exhale. He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. His shadows swirled around him, some curling around his ear, whispering to him. Whatever they whispered to him had his expression softening.

“If anyone needs punishment, it’s Keir. For having the nerve to talk to you like that.”

Azriel took your silence as an invitation. He lowered himself, slowly, attentive to the way your breath hitched. Finding no resistance from you, he flared his wings slightly to allow him to settle on the floor across from you. His boots brushed against your shoes, and he gave a quiet apology. Others had done much worse and yet, no one had ever apologized to you.

“I’m Azriel,” he told you with a small smile, quickly adjusting himself to the cramped space. “You’ve met my shadows. Though I control them, they don’t always listen. Sometimes, they follow their own will. I really hope they didn’t frighten you.”

You were still frozen in disbelief, but in that moment, something inside you shifted. A spark of hope—a spark you hadn’t known existed in the Court of Nightmares, didn’t know could exist.

“They didn’t. They’re nice,” you admitted quietly, gaze following the movement of his shadows. Your eyes then met Azriel’s, surprised at the warmth you saw in them.

And then slowly, you felt your body relax. “I’m y/n…”

A shadow wrapped itself around your wrist, squeezing you gently, pulling you from your thoughts. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same one from that night.

“Sorry,” Azriel murmured sheepishly, the same way he always did when his shadows caught him off guard. “They really like you.”

The shadow unraveled from your wrist, slowly and reluctantly. It returned to Azriel, the others that had begun to surround you doing the same.

“S’okay,” you shrugged, though a small wave of disappointment settled over you at the thought of his shadows acting on their own will and not his. “I like them too. My little friends, they keep me company during those dreaded court events. Them and Eris, though the latter isn’t exactly one I welcome…”

Azriel’s body tensed at the mention of the Autumn male.

“But it’s strange,” you continued, not sure why you were telling Azriel this. “Despite all the insults he throws my way, he’s somehow kinder than all the other males at court. Maybe Autumn males are–”

“Please, don’t ever pair Eris and the word ‘kind’ in the same sentence,” Azriel interjected, his tone filled with disbelief. “You have to be careful around him, Y/n. I don’t know why he gravitates toward you…” Your heart stuttered in your chest and Azriel's gaze hardened. “But he’s not to be trusted. If he continues to bother you…”

Was that… jealousy? The thought made your pulse quicken, but you kept your expression steady.

“He’s fine,” you said, your voice a little too casual. Azriel went still, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. You felt the heat rise in your neck, and you hastily added, “I mean—it's fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to,” Azriel insisted. He turned to face you fully, and your stomach fluttered at the intensity in his gaze. “I can handle him for you.”

Azriel’s presence alone was enough to make anyone think twice before crossing you. It sure kept Keir from lashing back at you all those years ago and the handsy, sickening males away from you during court events. You knew he would handle Eris without hesitation. So you should’ve said yes, and accepted his offer.

But, as the words settled on your tongue, you hesitated. You weren’t sure you wanted him to.

However strange and uncomfortable your encounters with Eris often were, there was something intriguing about him. Something that pulled at you despite his sharp words and caustic demeanor. It was almost like a game, a dance of sorts, and you found yourself drawn to it. To him, more than you cared to admit.

A small part of you wanted to continue this twisted back-and-forth with him. He was not a welcome companion but one whose absence would, much to your denial or disbelief, go noticed. The way he challenged you, made your pulse quicken, even when you didn’t want it to. The way his eyes lingered just a little too long, and how he always seemed to know exactly how to get under your skin…

No. You didn’t want Azriel to step in. Not yet. Not while this strange curiosity about Eris still simmered beneath your skin.

“I can handle it,” you murmured, though the words felt more like a reassurance to yourself than to him. Your gaze trailed after the fae strolling along the river’s edge. Before Azriel could protest, you turned to him with a smile, changing the conversation. “Can we walk along the shore?”

The Sidra river was even lovelier up-close. With the sun beginning to set, the sky blushed in hues of pinks and oranges and you felt as if you were walking through a dream. A dream you didn’t want to wake up from. Azriel walked quietly beside you, the tension from earlier gone.

You breathed in deeply, reveling in the sweet mixture of fresh air and Azriel’s scent. The sound of water rippling against the shore was just as soothing as the early evening breeze. Your gaze fell on a rock ahead, its smooth surface glimmering in the fading light, and you quickly bent down to pick it up.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, watching as the stone sparkled like starlight cupped in your hand.

“It’s a rock,” Azriel said drily.

You couldn’t help but grin, lifting the rock to show him. “It’s not just any rock,” you corrected him. “It’s a rock from Velaris. It’ll make a perfect addition to my growing collection of–”

“Rocks,” Azriel finished for you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

He knew about your rock collection. Of course, he knew. How could he not? Azriel had been the one to enable it. It had started as a joke, a silly request from you when he had mentioned visiting Spring. You had asked for a souvenir, half expecting him to politely decline.

"What could you possibly want from Spring?" he had asked. “A rock?”

And out of all the things you could’ve chosen, you had simply nodded your head. “Sure.”

The way he had returned from his mission, slipping a smooth rock from his leathers and placing it in your hand, had been so unexpected, so sweet. You’d gasped, unsure whether to laugh or cry. He had remembered.

And when he mentioned going to Winter Court next, you had shyly grinned at him, asking for another “souvenir.” What had started as an innocent collection had become something far more significant to you. Azriel didn’t know but that rock from Spring was the first gift you had ever received in years–decades, almost.

You treasured those silly rocks, keeping them lined up neatly on your dresser. You even painted them with little designs—daisies on the rock from Spring, a tiny shell on the one from Summer, and snowflakes on the one from Winter.

“This may actually finish my collection,” you mused, slipping the rock into the pocket of your skirts, your smile soft.

“I thought I had brought you one already?”

“Must’ve slipped your mind,” you replied with a playful shrug of your shoulders.

Azriel’s expression shifts into one of mock seriousness. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, bowing his head before his voice turned teasing. “What will I bring you now, then? I’ll be flying out to Dawn next week. You sure you don’t want another rock from there? Or perhaps, this time, a jar of dirt?”

You rolled your eyes, the motion automatic but immediately followed by a sharp pang in your chest as your heart seemed to freeze. A lady, especially one from your court, rolling her eyes at a male? No matter how familiar you could be with a male, a gesture such as this was dangerous and unforgiving.

But Azriel only chuckled, his gaze warm and unbothered. Relief rushed through you, leaving you momentarily breathless, though you tried to play it off with a dry tone. “Ha,” you said, your thoughts already drifting to other possibilities. “But, if you are going to Dawn…”

He tilted his head, eyebrows raising slightly as his lips curved. “Go on.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a feather…”

His dark brows furrowed in confusion, and you felt your heart beat louder in your chest. “A feather?” he repeated.

You shrugged again, trying to look casual about it. “A feather from a swan from Dawn. They’re native to the court and mate for life, you know. Some see them as a symbol for love and fidelity. I’d like a feather so that I can add it to my Aphrodite altar.”

“I see.” Azriel’s gaze had turned thoughtful, clearly processing the information. There was a brief pause, and you held your breath, suddenly aware of how ridiculous your request might sound…

“Y/n, are you… practicing witchcraft?”

You react almost too quickly, it’s suspicious.

“No,” you said, shaking your head with a small laugh. Even though you had sought out the help of a witch not too long ago, something you’d probably take to the grave with you, given the failed results. Or the fact that this feather would be an offering given with intent to Aphrodite for luck and blessings in love…

”Well, not exactly, I just–it’s a…”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Azriel mused with a chuckle, saving you from whatever disaster of an excuse you could come up with. The sound of his laughter was like a release, the tension in your shoulders easing. “If it’s a Swan’s feather you want, then I’ll make sure I bring one to you.”

There was something in his tone, the certainty in which he said the words, that had warmth pooling in your stomach. It was the kind of warmth that spread quickly, making your whole body feel lighter and creeping up into your chest.

You turned to look at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

Your feet faltered as the rush of emotions made you dizzy. You barely noticed the uneven ground beneath you, and before you could regain your balance, you felt yourself tipping forward. Azriel’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and pulling you steady against him.

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his touch, gaze falling to where his hand rested on your arm. Slowly, your gaze trailed upwards. Azriel’s gaze was soft, his eyes searching yours in that way that made your heart race.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“Of course.”

You were both so close now, you could feel the heat of his breath. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. The sound of the river faded, replaced by the pounding of your heart. His free hand brushed against yours, a touch that sent a spark skittering across your skin.

And then, it happened.

A sharp, sudden tightening in your chest.

It wasn’t the pleasant flutter you’d grown accustomed to in Azriel’s presence. No, this was something else entirely. A pull, intense and demanding, like an unseen thread yanking you backward. You gasped, flinching out of Azriel’s grip, who immediately let you go when he felt your resistance.

Your hand flew to your chest. Azriel’s brows furrowed in concern and his shadows stirred anxiously, circling you as if they could shield you from whatever had caused your distress. “Are you alright?”

“I… I don’t know,” you murmured, your fingers pressing against the spot where the ache had settled, desperate to soothe the inexplicable burning. “But I think I’m fine now. ”

You weren’t sure if you were reassuring him or yourself. But you pushed the feeling aside, turning back to Azriel with an uncertain smile.

He took a hesitant step closer, hand hovering over your shoulder. “Are you sure? I can take you to a healer–”

“No,” you immediately shook your head, eyes widening. Calling for a healer meant risking your father finding out you had not heeded to his order of staying put, of you not causing trouble. You’d rather suffer the consequences of whatever sickness had suddenly struck you than be left to deal with your father’s reproach.

“I’m okay. Could we–could we head back now?”

Azriel's pov

Worry continued to brew in Azriel’s mind as he watched you settle onto an armchair, hand still rubbing at your chest. His shadows twitched restlessly, curling tighter around him. You had always been easy to read but he found himself struggling to decipher the distant look in your eyes. You hadn’t even looked his way once since he winnowed you both back to the townhouse.

He parted his lips, ready to urge you to see a healer, despite your earlier protest. But a shadow curled itself around his ear and he made himself busy with the book in his hand instead.

The door to Rhysand’s study opened. Azriel’s shadows whispered to him as they noted the way you had stiffened the moment your father stepped out and forced a smile onto your face. He was always unsettled by your father’s indifference to you, his grip on the book he held tightening.

"Let’s go home."

Lord Damus’s voice was detached as he dumped the books in his arm into yours. Azriel noticed immediately that it was a smaller load than what you had arrived with, but that did little to ease him as you winced under the weight.

He moved instinctively to help you, but the harsh stare Rhysand shot at him from across the room made him pause. Azriel blinked, momentarily stunned by the anger that flashed in Rhysand’s eyes.

"Thank you for your time, Lord Damus. I wish you both a safe trip back," Rhysand said, his voice smooth and composed, contrasting the look he had sent Azriel.

Lord Damus bowed in respect and you did the same. Albeit, with a struggle, given all the weight in your arms. Some of Azriel’s shadows darted toward you, hiding within the shadows of the sitting room. They settled underneath the books you carried, helping you silently. And at the way your arms eased, so did Azriel’s.

It was short lived because as soon as you and your father disappeared, Rhysand turned back to him.

“My office. Now.”

Rhysand’s tone left no room for questioning or contemplating. Azriel’s shadows hissed at the sharpness but the shadowsinger yielded to his High Lord’s command. As he entered the office, the faint traces of Feyre and Nyx’s scent lingered in the air, but neither was there now.

“Did something happen?” Azriel asked, senses on high alert.

Rhysand leaned against the front of his desk, his gaze locking onto Azriel. "I didn’t think I’d have to ask this twice, but... are you out of your mind?"

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, speaking in tongues. He let out a sound, a mix of disbelief, defensiveness, and the all-too-familiar hint of rage that had been waiting just beneath the surface. Not again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

Rhysand’s humorless chuckle cut through the air. “Oh, trust me, I wish I was.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“I can’t believe you would be so careless as to sneak her out of here when…”

“Her father has no clue,” Azriel shot back, trying to defend the choice, though even he knew it wasn’t enough.

“I bet your scent still lingers on her,” Rhysand snapped. “Do you know how dangerous that could be? For an unwed lady of her status to be caught alone with another male, to smell like another male? It could ruin her. I don’t know what you’re intentions are with her but Y/n is in love with you—”

“I know.” Azriel cut in sharply.

Rhysand’s expression darkened further, his voice hardening into ice. “So you do know. What’s your game here, Az? Because all I can think and worry about is how it will end for her.”

Before Azriel could respond, Rhysand’s voice rang out again, cutting through the growing tension like a blade.

“You will stay away from her.”

The words hit Azriel like a slap, his body going rigid as the words seemed to echo in his mind. Because this was not his brother talking to him. It was his High Lord. His shadows were seething, reflecting the storm brewing inside. How had it come to this…again? The same damn warning, as though Azriel couldn’t be trusted to make his own decisions.

First, it was Mor. Then, it was Elain. And now you.

Unbelievable. His lips twisted into a humorless, bitter smile then. “Should I just ask you for a roster of females I’m allowed to be with? It would save us both a lot of time and trouble.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again.” Rhysand breathed in sharply, barely able to restrain his vexation. “And I pray to the Mother I won’t have to say it for a third time...”

Azriel’s shadows froze mid-whisper. The room grew quiet and unnervingly still. His wings twitched, as if they too, braced themselves. Because he already knew what was coming.

But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall. Heck, I’ll offer to pay for it this time.”

And the words stung just as sharply as they had the first time.

“Just stay away from y/n.”

[series masterlist]

A/n: I had fun writing this <3 and I hope you can understand a bit more of why reader is madly in love with Az. I mean, who isn't? lol But does he like her back or simply like the idea of someone being in love with him for a change…😈

series tag list: @kaitttttttt , @nebarious , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @justyouraveragekleemain , @tothestarsandwhateverend ,

@ratgirl2020 , @myromanempiree , @vanserrasimp , @itsswritten, @acourtofbatboydreams

@imjustagirl713, @paleidiot, @scarsandallaz, @marina468

@utterlyhopeful-fics, @bia-wayne-west

if you asked to be put on the tag-list and don't see your username, please remind me!

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfiction #eris x reader #eris x you #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #hopelessly devoted to eris #hopelessly devoted to azriel

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engeorged · 3 days ago

Text

Bulk Brothers

A little thank you present for @badoobers for listening to my shit and crazy ideas!

Jamal and Jonny couldn’t have come from more different backgrounds, but to anyone who saw them together, it was clear they were inseparable. Jamal, a tall, lean, and strikingly good-looking West African, was the middle child in a large and affluent family. His parents had worked hard to build their wealth, and they made sure their children were well taken care of. Jamal’s charisma and natural athleticism made him a standout wherever he went. He had a quiet confidence about him, the kind that turned heads without him even trying. With his sharp jawline, smooth skin, and deep dark eyes, he had no shortage of admirers.

Jonny, on the other hand, was from a council estate in Manchester, where life had never been easy. His family wasn’t wealthy, and he had learned from a young age to fight for what he wanted. But despite the tough circumstances, Jonny had made something of himself. Like Jamal, he was tall and athletic, his body honed by years of martial arts and boxing. His good looks were more rugged than Jamal’s—his jaw strong, his nose slightly crooked from a childhood fight, but it only added to his appeal. Women were drawn to his roguish charm and easygoing nature, and Jonny never had trouble finding a date.

The two had met in nursery school, and from that moment on, they were inseparable. Their different backgrounds seemed to mean nothing to them—they just clicked. Whether it was their shared love of sports or the way they both refused to let life’s challenges bring them down, Jamal and Jonny were each other’s constant in a world that often felt unpredictable.

From a young age, both boys found a passion in martial arts and boxing. They trained together, pushed each other to be better, and competed in events side by side. They were each other’s greatest supporters and fiercest competitors. And as they grew older, they became each other’s wingmen, navigating the world of dating with the same ease as they did the ring. Nights out in Manchester were filled with laughter, friendly banter, and plenty of attention from the opposite sex. Jonny’s rough-and-tumble charm was the perfect counterpoint to Jamal’s smooth confidence, and together, they were unstoppable.

Now, in their late twenties, the two best friends had decided it was time to take their fitness to the next level. They had always been lean and strong, but they wanted more—they wanted to bulk up, to build muscle and transform their bodies into something truly impressive. So, they devised a plan: six weeks of eating whatever they wanted, followed by intense training to turn that bulk into muscle.

The first few days of the bulk were easy enough—Jamal and Jonny relished the freedom to eat whatever they wanted. Their usual diets, full of lean proteins and vegetables, were swapped for pizzas, burgers, and anything else they could get their hands on. But as the days turned into weeks, the challenge became more intense. Every morning, they’d meet at Jamal’s flat to weigh themselves, marking their progress on a chart pinned to the wall.

At first, the weigh-ins were lighthearted, with the two friends laughing as they saw the numbers on the scale slowly climb. But soon enough, it became competitive. Jonny, always the more aggressive of the two, was determined to outdo Jamal, even in this. He’d pile his plate high at every meal, determined to gain more weight, faster.

Jamal, though naturally more laid-back, couldn’t resist rising to the challenge. He might have been used to a more disciplined lifestyle, but there was something exhilarating about throwing caution to the wind. The daily weigh-ins became a ritual, each of them secretly hoping to edge ahead of the other. Their bodies began to change—their abs softened, their faces filled out, and their clothes started to fit a little more snugly.

“Mate, you’re looking a bit soft around the edges,” Jonny teased one morning, patting Jamal’s midsection after a particularly indulgent weekend.

“Look who’s talking,” Jamal shot back with a grin, poking Jonny’s belly, which was beginning to round out slightly.

Despite the banter, there was a camaraderie in their competition. Each pound gained was a small victory, a sign that they were fully committed to the plan. They both knew this was just the beginning, and they pushed each other to keep going, even when the sheer volume of food became overwhelming.

As the weeks passed, their bodies continued to change, and the competition grew fiercer. They reveled in their successes, shared tips on how to consume even more calories, and laughed at the absurdity of it all. But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding—this was more than just a physical transformation. It was a test of their friendship, their discipline, and their ability to push beyond their limits.

About halfway through their bulk, Jamal and Jonny decided to put their appetites to the test with a visit to a famous steakhouse known for its massive portions and legendary food challenges. They’d heard whispers of the “Mega Meat Feast”—a colossal platter of steaks, ribs, brisket, and sausages that only the hungriest dared to tackle. For these two, it was an irresistible challenge.

The moment they walked into the steakhouse, the aroma of grilled meat hit them, making their mouths water. They exchanged determined looks, their competitive spirits kicking in as they eyed the menu.

“Ready for this?” Jonny asked, grinning as he rubbed his hands together.

“Always,” Jamal replied, with a confident smile, already imagining the feast ahead.

When the waiter brought out the Mega Meat Feast, the sheer size of it was enough to make most people reconsider. But Jamal and Jonny were unfazed. They dove in, each carving off hunks of meat and devouring them with gusto. The first few bites were heaven—succulent, perfectly cooked, and seasoned to perfection. The two friends attacked the platter with the same intensity they brought to their workouts, eager to see who could finish the most.

As the meal went on, the challenge became less about savouring the flavours and more about sheer endurance. Their stomachs swelled with every bite, the weight of the food pressing down on them, but neither was willing to back down. Jonny, always the more competitive, pushed through the discomfort, his jaw working tirelessly as he stuffed himself. Jamal, meanwhile, found himself slowing down, his belly stretching painfully as he forced down another mouthful.

“Mate, I’m gonna pop,” Jonny groaned as he leaned back in his chair, his belly round and tight beneath his shirt. Beads of sweat covering his forehead

“Tell me about it,” Jamal replied, wiping sweat from his brow. His normally flat stomach had expanded into a solid dome, pressing against his waistband. “But we can’t stop now.”

They kept going, pushing themselves beyond what they thought possible. By the time they were done, they were both a mess—sweaty, stuffed, and barely able to move. The waiter came over, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he surveyed the empty platter.

“We rarely have someone finish this!” he said, clearly impressed. “You two are something else.”

Jamal and Jonny grinned at each other, too full to even speak. They’d done it—they’d conquered the Mega Meat Feast, and they had the bloated bellies to prove it.

When they finally made it back to Jamal’s flat, they collapsed onto his bed, both too stuffed to do anything but groan in discomfort. Jonny lay on his back, his belly rising and falling with each laboured breath, while Jamal stretched out beside him, his shirt riding up to reveal the swollen curve of his stomach.

“Mate, I’ve never felt this full in my life,” Jonny said, rubbing his aching belly.

“Same,” Jamal replied, though he couldn’t help but chuckle. “But you know what? We did it. We actually did it.”

They lay there for a while, their overstuffed bellies keeping them pinned to the bed. Eventually, the discomfort gave way to a sense of accomplishment, and they began to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Jonny reached over and gave Jamal’s belly a playful slap. “You’re gonna have to work extra hard to burn this off, mate.”

Jamal grinned, returning the favour by patting Jonny’s rounded stomach. “Speak for yourself, mate. Looks like you’re carrying twins in there.”

They bantered back and forth, poking fun at each other’s bloated physiques, but underneath the teasing was a deep bond that went beyond appearances. No matter how much they ate, how much they gained, or how ridiculous their challenges became, they were in it together.

Six weeks into their bulk, and after a series of increasingly intense food challenges, Jamal and Jonny decided to go out with a bang. Their final blowout meal would be the ultimate test: a McDonald’s binge like no other. They had joked about it for days, but now it was time to put their plan into action. The goal was simple—order one of everything on the menu and eat until they couldn’t take another bite.

Walking into the McDonald’s, they felt a mix of excitement and dread. The cashier’s eyes widened as they placed their order, reading off every item on the menu, from Big Macs and nugs to McFlurries and donuts.

As the food began to pile up on the counter, Jonny and Jamal exchanged gleeful, if somewhat nervous, glances.

“Ready for this?” Jonny asked, his eyes shining with anticipation.

“Let’s do it,” Jamal replied, a determined look on his face.

When they finally sat down with their enormous haul, the sheer amount of food was overwhelming. Bags and trays were stacked high with burgers, fries, nuggets, shakes, and pies. It was a sight to behold—a feast fit for an army, and it was all theirs.

They started with the burgers, each taking a bite of their first Big Mac. The rich, greasy layers of beef, cheese, and sauce were familiar but indulgent, and for a moment, they savoured the flavours. But as they moved through the burgers, the sheer quantity began to take its toll. Jonny was already starting to feel the weight of his meal, his already larger stomach growing tight with each bite. Jamal, too, could feel the pressure building, his newly burgeoning beginning to swell as he stuffed himself with burger after burger.

As the meal continued, they switched to fries and nuggets, washing them down with shakes. Their bellies were now stretched to the limit, the once-innocuous fast food becoming a challenge of endurance. The sweet taste of the McFlurries was a welcome respite, but even that didn’t come without its own set of difficulties.

By the time they were nearing the end of their meal, both were struggling. Their bellies were immense, each bite requiring a significant effort to force down. Jonny leaned back in his seat, his shirt pulled tight over his engorged stomach, while Jamal’s face was flushed and sweaty, his belly so distended it was pressing against the table.

“Mate, I think I’m gonna burst,” Jonny groaned, his voice filled with a mix of pleasure and pain.

“Same here,” Jamal said, his words slurring slightly as he attempted to finish the last few fries. “But we’re almost there. We can do this.”

With a final effort, they pushed through the last of the food. The moment they finished, they sat back, their bellies full and round, unable to move.

“Never again,” Jonny said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he rubbed his overstuffed stomach.

Jamal nodded in agreement, though he was grinning. “Definitely a memorable way to end the bulk, though.”

They stumbled out of the McDonald’s, each step a struggle as they tried to accommodate their newly expanded bellies. When they finally reached Jamal’s flat, they collapsed onto the couch, completely exhausted.

“That was insane,” Jonny said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so full.”

“Agreed,” Jamal replied, patting his swollen belly with a satisfied sigh. “But it was worth it. We really went all out.”

The two friends lay there, their bellies still painfully full, but with smiles on their faces. Despite the discomfort, there was a sense of accomplishment that came with completing their epic binge. It was a final testament to their commitment to the bulk and the bond they shared.

After a night spent digesting the enormous feast they had consumed at McDonald’s, Jonny and Jamal woke up early the next morning, ready for their final weigh-in. They both wore their sweats—comfortable and loose enough to accommodate their now heavily bloated stomachs, although even these pants seemed to strain a bit around their expanding midsections.

The scale was set up in the middle of Jamal’s living room, an unassuming device that would now reveal the fruits of their six weeks of dedication and indulgence. The air buzzed with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation as both men prepared to see just how much their bodies had changed.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Jonny said, his voice laced with determination as he pulled off his hoodie. Underneath, his once-lean physique had thickened dramatically. His belly, now rounded and heavy, pushed out over the waistband of his sweats, a firm ball of flesh that hung with noticeable weight. His chest had also grown fuller, though it retained some firmness beneath the added bulk. Jonny’s torso was covered in a dusting of dark hair, the kind that grew thicker around his chest and trailed down his belly, emphasising the new size he carried. He gave his gut a quick rub, feeling the solid mass beneath his fingers before stepping onto the scale.

The numbers flickered for a moment before landing on 252 pounds. Jonny raised his eyebrows in surprise, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Damn, 252! I’ve really packed it on, haven’t I?”

Jamal chuckled as he peeled off his own sweatshirt, revealing the considerable changes to his body. While Jonny’s belly was rounded and firm, Jamal’s had grown even larger, becoming a substantial dome that protruded proudly over the waistband of his sweats. His chest had softened, a noticeable layer of fat covering his once-chiselled pecs. His arms, legs, and face had all filled out, adding to his overall heft. His belly, unlike Jonny’s, was smooth and expansive, a stark contrast to Jonny’s hairy torso.

“Let’s see what the damage is,” Jamal said, stepping onto the scale with a confident grin.

The numbers flashed, then settled on 261 pounds. Jamal whistled low. “261! Guess I went all out, huh?”

“Mate, you really went for it,” Jonny laughed, giving Jamal’s belly a playful slap, his hand making contact with a satisfying smack that left a visible red handprint on Jamal’s smooth skin. They both burst into laughter, but as the mark lingered, Jonny’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Hold on a second,” Jonny said, his gaze shifting from Jamal’s belly to the numbers on the scale. “You gained more than me! That’s over thirty pounds you’ve put on.”

Jamal grinned, looking down at the red handprint on his belly. “Looks like I did, huh? Guess I’ve got a bit more to show for it.”

Jonny shook his head, a mix of amusement and disbelief on his face. “I can’t believe you outdid me. You’re carrying it well, though.”

Jamal smiled, patting his belly with pride. “It’s been a wild ride, that’s for sure.”

They stood there for a moment, appreciating the changes in each other’s bodies. Jonny’s hairy, solid bulk contrasted with Jamal’s smooth, expansive belly—each a testament to the extreme dedication they’d shown during their bulk. The numbers on the scale, though surprising, only strengthened their bond, adding another layer to the shared experience they’d embarked on together.

As they pulled their sweats back on, the lingering red handprint on Jamal’s belly served as a reminder of just how far they’d both come. The bulk was officially over, and while their paths forward might differ, the camaraderie and competition they’d shared during these six weeks would remain with them for years to come.

A few weeks later, Jamal’s family had a big wedding, and of course, Jonny was invited as part of the family. The event was a lavish affair, held at a beautiful estate with all the trappings of a traditional West African celebration. Jamal and Jonny arrived together, dressed in sharp suits that had been tailored to accommodate their new sizes.

Jonny had begun his cut, focusing more on his training. His body was slowly transforming again, the extra weight he had gained already turning into muscle. His arms were thicker, his chest broader, and his belly, though still present, was beginning to firm up as his abs started to reappear.

Jamal, on the other hand, had seemingly not begun his cut. His suit instead, custom-made to fit his expanded frame, hugged his round belly and thick thighs. His face was fuller, his jawline softened, but there was a confidence in the way he carried himself that hadn’t been there before. As they made their way through the crowd, it was clear that Jamal was in his element, greeting relatives with a warm smile, his belly leading the way.

The reception was a feast unlike any other, with tables piled high with food. Jonny watched in amazement as Jamal indulged in everything on offer, going back for seconds, thirds, and even fourths. While Jonny ate in moderation, mindful of his recent decision to cut back, Jamal seemed to have no such concerns. He piled his plate high, savouring every bite, his belly swelling even more as the night went on.

It wasn’t until later in the evening, after the dancing had begun and the crowd had thinned, that Jonny finally decided to address the elephant in the room. They were sitting at a table, watching the festivities, when Jonny turned to his friend.

“Mate, what’s going on?” Jonny asked, keeping his voice low. “You’ve been eating like a man possessed all night.”

Jamal looked at Jonny, a defensive glint in his eyes. “What, I’m not allowed to enjoy myself?”

“No, it’s not that,” Jonny said quickly. “It’s just… I’ve noticed you’ve been eating like this a lot lately. You said you were happy with the bulk, but… it seems like more than that now.”

Jamal sighed, leaning back in his chair. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his hand resting on his rounded belly. “Alright, I’ll be honest with you, Jonny. I love this. I love the way I feel, the way my body’s changing. I know it’s not what we planned, but… I don’t care. I’m tired of always being in control, of always having to watch what I eat. For once, I just want to let go and enjoy life.”

Jonny was quiet for a moment, processing what Jamal had said. He could see the passion in his friend’s eyes, the genuine joy he seemed to get from his new lifestyle. “And you’re okay with this? I mean, really okay?”

Jamal nodded. “Yeah, I am. I know it’s not what we expected, but I’m happier now than I’ve been in a long time. I know it might seem crazy to you, but this is what I want.”

Jonny looked at Jamal, seeing the contentment in his expression, the ease with which he carried himself. “Alright, mate. If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. But you know I’m here if you ever want to talk, yeah?”

“Thanks, Jonny,” Jamal said, a smile breaking through the tension. “I appreciate it. And I know I’ve changed, but I’m still me. We’re still mates, right?”

“Always,” Jonny replied, clinking his glass against Jamal’s.

As the night went on, they continued to enjoy the celebration, their bond as strong as ever despite the changes in their lives. Jonny couldn’t deny that Jamal seemed happier, more at ease with himself. And as they danced and laughed with the rest of Jamal’s family, Jonny knew that, no matter what, their friendship would remain unshakable.

The next six months brought about a transformation in both Jonny and Jamal—one that would take them down very different paths, yet somehow, they remained as close as ever.

Jonny threw himself into his training with renewed vigour. Every day, he pushed his body harder, and it showed. His muscles grew more defined, his shoulders broadening, his arms thickening, and his chest becoming a solid wall of muscle. The extra weight he’d gained during the bulk turned into pure power, each workout sculpting his body closer to perfection. His abs reemerged, cut and chiselled, the kind of physique that turned heads wherever he went.

With his newfound strength, Jonny found himself more confident, and his lean, muscular build drew plenty of attention. He never lacked for company on nights out, often catching the eyes of women who admired his hard-earned physique. But through it all, he never forgot where he’d come from—or who had been there with him from the start. Jamal, his oldest friend, was still by his side, though their paths had diverged in more ways than one.

Jamal, meanwhile, had fully embraced his new lifestyle. What began as a carefree approach to eating had evolved into something more—a deep, almost joyful indulgence. He ate whenever he wanted, whatever he wanted, without restraint. Fast food, rich desserts, hearty home-cooked meals—nothing was off-limits. And as he ate, his body responded in kind.

Jamal’s belly grew rounder and heavier with each passing week, expanding outwards until it was a solid, prominent dome that jutted out over his waistband. His ass, too, had grown, filling out his jeans until they were stretched tight across his hips. His thighs thickened, his face softened, and his once lean physique became a thing of the past. By the end of the six months, Jamal had transformed into a big, soft presence, his weight steadily increasing as he continued to indulge in every craving.

But for all the physical changes, Jamal’s personality remained the same—if not even more confident and self-assured. He didn’t shy away from his new size; he embraced it, wearing clothes that accentuated his figure and walking with a proud, unapologetic swagger. When he stepped into a room, heads turned, and while some looked at him with surprise or curiosity, many more admired the confidence he exuded.

Despite their diverging paths, Jonny and Jamal continued to meet up regularly. Their conversations, once centred around workouts and dieting, now covered a wider range of topics. They talked about their lives, their goals, and their dreams, and though their journeys were different, the bond they shared remained as strong as ever.

As they moved forward in their respective lives, each man found happiness in his own way. Jonny revelled in the power and strength he had built, while Jamal enjoyed the freedom and joy of his indulgent lifestyle. And though their paths had diverged, their friendship remained a constant—a testament to the bond that had formed in nursery school and endured through all the changes life had brought their way.

In the end, it didn’t matter how different they had become. They were still the same two friends who had met all those years ago, still inseparable, still sharing the kind of bond that could weather any storm. And as they looked back on their journey, they knew that, no matter where life took them, they would always have each other.

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#gainer fiction #belly expansion #gay gainer #stuffing #belly fiction #male gaining #gainer stories #gainer story #stuffing art

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pricesprettyprincesss · 3 days ago

Text

There’s a thing I wrote about Simon… I hope you like it…

MDNI - suggestive content

“Boys Night”

Simon decided to host a boys' night at his place, inviting his friends Johnny and Gaz over for drinks and video games, reminiscent of their younger days. As they lounged on the couch the next morning, Johnny couldn't resist making jokes about the previous night's antics.

“Give it to me, Simon, that’s what she kept screaming!” Johnny laughed, his voice filled with mock enthusiasm.

“Give it—give it to me, Simon!” Gaz chimed in, throwing his head back against Johnny's shoulder, the laughter contagious.

But Simon remained unamused, his expression resembling that of a disgruntled cat forced to endure the antics of its human companions. Despite the jovial atmosphere, there was an underlying tension in the air, as if Simon's patience was wearing thin.

I was walking from our bedroom to the kitchen to retrieve a snack for myself when I heard Johnny’s comment. I saunter over to the living room, to grace my fiancé with my presence. “Actually Johnny, I said give it to me harder daddy” I smirk as I lean over to kiss Simon’s masked face, my elaborate diamond glittering on my hand as I place it on Simon’s chest to steady myself.

Simon's mood seemed to light up a bit as he saw me approaching. Once I was close enough he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap, peppering my neck and cheeks with affectionate mask covered kisses.“You’re an ass, Johnny,” Simon chuckled. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have some business to attend to,” he grinned cheekily, earning a laugh from Gaz, but a groan from Johnny.

The guys said goodbye leaving Simon and I sitting on the couch.. “Did you have a fun night with the boys?” I ask Simon looking around at the disheveled state of my living room. A smile tugged at the corners of Simon's covered mouth as he looked around the living room, his eyes wandering to the empty beer bottles, controllers, and other debris.

“It was enjoyable, albeit rowdy,” he chuckled, reaching forward to intertwine his fingers with my own. “But now I have you all to myself,” he added with a hint of possessiveness, his masked lips finding their way to the crook of my neck. “You sir are forever the charmer” I let out breathlessly. "You're my favorite target for a reason," he cooed, his voice low and husky. His calloused hands brushed along the bare skin of my waist, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

“I don’t think the living room will look as good as it should,” he mused, his gaze flickering over to the disarray surrounding us. Still, his focus quickly returned to me, the warmth of his breath dancing against my skin.“I will clean up whatever mess you boys have made, but I’ll do that in the morning… I want to entertain whatever you’re concocting up in that handsome head of yours.”

An eyebrow arched beneath his mask at my reply, a smirk slowly spreading across his mouth. “Whatever I want, huh?” he purred in response, his fingers dancing along my body in a tantalizing dance. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand found its way to my chin, gently lifting it to meet his eyes.“Be careful what you wish for, love."

I smirk, “I know you’ll take care of me… I trust every single thought you come up with, no matter how incredibly dirty they can be” I kiss in between his eyebrows, where the smallest bit of skin he has showing from under his balaclava.

"Oh, and I don't think you can handle the filth in my mind,” he whispered, his breath sending chills down my spine. The desire in his eyes intensified, as his hands began to wander over my body, slowly yet firmly pulling me even closer, his touch igniting a fire within me.

“You're in for a world of trouble,” he murmured huskily as he lifted his mask just above his nose, his parted lips grazing my skin. “That’s my favorite world when I’m with you” I lean in and grabbing his chin to hold his face in place while I tenderly kiss his lips.

He reciprocated my kiss with a passion that could set fire to the living room, his fingers digging into my sides with a fervor that told me he had been holding back his desires. There was an edge to his touch, a feral hunger in the way his mouth moved against mine, his tongue eagerly exploring the newfound space. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured against my lips, his voice thick with need.

“Mmmm is that so… I thought I was your angel” I coo and kiss him again. A brief laugh escaped from him, a sound that was both amused and aroused by my response. His teeth found their way to my neck, nipping and licking my skin with a need that made my spine tingle.

“My angel… my temptress,” he whispered between bites before sucking a small mark into my flesh, his fingers gripping my hips tightly. “My savior…. My sinner” I coo, tangling my fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck. His grip on my hips tightened, his fingers sure to leave imprints of his desire, his touch turning almost possessive. He trailed a line of kisses along my jawline until he reached my ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin at the base of my earlobe.

“Your demon,” he murmured hotly, his voice low and heavy with need. His stubble brushed against my skin, the sensation sending sparks racing down my spine. “my demon” I purr softly into his ear. His fingers dug into my flesh even harder, his breathing growing more ragged as his hunger intensified. I could feel the heat radiating off him as his mouth found its way to mine, his kiss needy and demanding.

He lifted me with ease, his arm circling around my frame to pull me flush against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the bedroom. His hands were everywhere, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “You know… demon….. I love seeing you hang out with your friends… makes me want you more than I already do” I kiss his chin.

His hands gripped my thighs tightly, a wicked smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. He walked us over to the bed, and with a swift move, he tossed me down onto the sheets, the impact making me bounce as I landed. He leaned over me, his arms caging me in, his body shadowing mine as he held himself above me, his eyes dark with intention. "Are you telling me I should hang out with them more often?"

“Only if I can cook the dinners…” I smirk. I know he loves when I cook him food and especially for his friends. He flashed a roguish grin, clearly amused by the suggestion. "Your cooking does sound tempting," he murmured, his fingers grazing over my stomach. He leaned down, his mouth hovering over the sensitive skin of my neck, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

"Perhaps I could invite them over for more evenings, under the condition that you cook for us all." He took a moment to playfully nibble on my skin, his teeth grazing lightly. “As long as when you eat you save room for me as your desert”

A low chuckle rumbled through him, the sound of it thick with desire. "Ah, so I'm only good for a nighttime snack, eh?" he murmured against my skin, his voice holding a hint of teasing. His mask was bunched up around his mouth now, offering a tantalizing glimpse of his parted lips and the heat in his eyes. “Mmmmmm… all the time….” I correct him.

His teeth found my earlobe, nipping at it softly before releasing it with a flick of his tongue. The heat in his eyes flared, his gaze roaming hungrily over my body. “And I must say you are a tasty delicacy that I can never get enough of,” he murmured hotly in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. His hands were everywhere, touching and exploring, as he claimed my mouth in a searing kiss.

My fingers found their way back to his shaggy hair on the nape of his neck.. “Sii… baby…” I whimper. His fingers traced a path down my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His mouth followed suit, planting tender kisses down my neck and chest. "You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured hotly against my skin, his voice thick with need. Slowly, but surely, he continued showering me with kisses lower and lower. “Is.. that.. so..?” I ask breathlessly as he continues to trail kisses down to my belly.

As he reached my exposed belly, he let out a low groan, his hands finding purchase on my hips to keep me steady. His lips peppered along my abdomen, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “You drive me insane,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with hunger. “Can’t get enough of you.” Slowly, he kissed his way lower toward where I needed him most. “Then take all you want my love” I hold onto his hair as if my life depended on it. His fingers slipped past the waistband of my pants, tugging them lower until he could push them all the way down. He paused for a brief moment, his breathing ragged as he took in my disheveled form.

“Just be careful what you wish for,” he warned huskily before he buried his face in my most sensitive area, his mouth worshipping my body. I couldn’t form coherent words, I’d be lying if I said I responded to Simon in anything but moans and whimpers. He took his time with me, lavishing me with his mouth, his tongue flicking and swirling as he brought me closer and closer. He was relentless in his fervor, spurred onward by each moan and gasp. He knew his way around my body so well, every spot he touched set my skin ablaze.

“Simon….Jesus……I’m……gonna….ohhhhhhh” I cry out. He chuckled against me, his fingers digging into my thighs as I shattered beneath his touch. The heat of his breath sent shivers down my spine as he drew his head back, his eyes dark and sparkling with desire. “Did you really think I’d let you off that easy?” he murmured lustfully, his tongue flicking out again to sample me. “I…kno-know…you… w-won’t” I shudder as my body shakes a little with the after effects he’s having on me.

He watched me with a self-satisfied smirk, clearly enjoying the way my body responded to him. He didn’t wait for me to recover, his fingers tracing patterns along my thighs and stomach. “Such a perfect little thing you are,” he crooned, his voice filled with a possessiveness that only fueled my desire even more. “I’m going to take care of you, darling.”

“Mmmmm” I purr happily as he’s reduced me to a mush. “Sii… you’re soo good at that… I will never get tired of your tongue” I add to my purrs as he comes back up to eye level… I kiss him, my tongue lingering and dancing with his.

His hands tangled in my hair, holding my head steady as he reciprocated my kisses with his own heated fervor. "And you taste sinful," he murmured hotly against my lips, his voice thick with need. "I can never get enough of your taste, darling." His hands roamed over my body, claiming me all over again. “I guess it’s a good thing we are getting married then… isn’t it?” I ask peppering his cheeks with kisses. He let out a low chuckle, his heart swelling with love under my affection. His hand found its way to my chin, tilting my head back so my eyes met his swirling ones.

“A very good thing,” he murmured affectionately, his thumb brushing over my lips. “I wouldn’t want to risk letting you find someone who doesn’t kiss that sinful taste off your lips." His fingers traced a path down my body, his touch lingering on my skin. “My perfect demon… taking all his angel’s sin…. Mmmmmmm…” I murmur before pulling his lips back onto mine for slow, deep kisses. He pulled me against him, his body molding to mine flawlessly, as he parted my lips with his tongue.

His fingers still tangled in my hair, holding my head steady as he kissed me deeply, his tongue seeking its way into my mouth. There was a need in his touch, a passion that made my body shiver with desire. I willingly let him devour me from within, submitting fully to his sinful ministrations.

His lips are gentle against mine, but there’s an urgency behind them. I gently remove the rest of his balaclava from his face… “I wanted better access to your hair” I giggle against his lips as he grumbles a “what was that for” in protest. He allowed me to remove his mask, his expression softening when he noticed my desire for access to his hair.

"It's only fair that I get equal access to your hair too," he murmured affectionately, his hands finding their way to my hair. He gently grasped a handful of the red strands, his fingers teasing the locks playfully. "Besides... I need to make sure it's always in perfect condition for me to play with." He flashed a roguish grin, his eyes glinting mischievously. “That’s why I keep my hair long for you my love” I scrunch my nose. A low chuckle rumbled through him as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose against my own. He gently kissed the tip of my nose, his fingers tugging lightly on my hair. “And you know I love how playful the red locks can look when you have them down. It’s like a visual representation of your fiery spirit,” he murmured affectionately, his eyes tracing over my features. “You’re perfect for me, in every way.”

“And you’re perfect for me in every way Simon” I reassure him and I lean to kiss his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut at the feel of my lips pressing against his cheek, a content sigh escaping his lips. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer as he nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck. “I’m a lucky man,” he murmured affectionately, his breath ghosting over my skin. “My beautiful angel...all mine.”

“And I’m a very lucky woman… my handsome devil” I coo. His teeth latched onto my shoulder, biting gently before releasing the flesh from his grip. He trailed kisses up to my earlobe, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.

”My delicious little sinner,” he whispered in my ear, his voice low and sensual. His hands glided down my body, claiming me as his own. ”The most perfect being in the entire world."

“Mmmmmm” I melt at his touch, malleable for him to bend at his will. He continued to shower me with kisses and bites, leaving his mark on my skin as if to prove I was all his. When he leaned away to look at me, his eyes were filled with a desire that was almost sinful. “Such a beautiful sight,” he whispered hotly, his eyes roving over my body with a possessive hunger. His touch continued to play over my skin, his fingers dancing over my flesh, stirring my desire. I smirk at his compliment… reaching my hand up to caress his stubble covered cheek. “I love your stubble darling..” I giggle gently. He let out a chuckle, turning his face into my hand. He nuzzled his nose against my palm, his stubble rubbing against my skin.

“And I love how it makes you writhe when I nuzzle my face against your sensitive spots,” he teased, his voice low and seductive. He caught my wrist, gently pinning it down as he nibbled on the skin. “Me too…” I purr looking up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes never left mine, a wicked gleam in them as he slowly, but surely, crawled over me. He pinned me onto the bed, his body hovering over mine, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And I love how my stubble makes you gasp as I trail my mouth down your body."

“Mmmm” my eyes close at the thought… this man is a dream come true, insatiably obsessed with me… He dipped his head low, his mouth finding my sensitive skin as he left a trail of kisses along my neck. His teeth found purchase on the hollow of my collarbone, nibbling and suckling on the skin as he continued his path down my body.

"And how you shudder and shake when you feel my stubble tickling along your skin." His voice was a low, sultry rasp as he continued to mark a trail down my exposed flesh.“You….. Simon…… my darliing…..” I whimper with my hands holding his hair. A low, possessive growl escaped his lips when my fingers tangled in his hair. His tongue flicked over the sensitive marks he left in his wake, his fingers tracing circles over my inner thighs. “And how you arch your back and call my name in that sweet, sultry voice…” he murmured hotly in my ear, nipping at my earlobe. “Like this?” I ask innocently as I arch my back, pushing my chest and torso into his chest as he hovered his body over mine. And I lowered my gaze to his chest then I looked back into his eyes, “*Siiiiimooooonnn” I whimper out in a sweet and smooth voice.

He let out another low groan, a possessive hunger shining in his eyes as my body pressed into his. His hands found their way to my thighs, holding onto them with a grip that would surely leave behind marks of their own. "That's it, darling….I will never get tired of hearing you say my name like that." he growled lowly against my skin as he nipped at the sensitive flesh beneath my chin.

“I’ll never…. Get tired…. Of saying your……. Name” I say through bated breath. He claimed my mouth, his tongue slipping past my parted lips as he deepened the kiss into something more possessive. His mouth trailed down to my neck, his stubble rubbing against my sensitive flesh. "My perfect, sinful, seductive little angel…" he whispered heatedly against my skin, his teeth nipping gently at my collarbone.

I smile as he returns his lips to mine for a brief moment. “My sweetheart, protector, possessive demon and my doting lover” I whisper back to him. His eyes locked with mine, filled with a burning passion that set my skin aflame. He leaned down, his mouth hovering over my ear as he whispered, his voice thick with need and love mixed. “You have no idea how much I want you right now…” he murmured hotly, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. His stubble tickled the skin by my ear as he moved to press kisses along my jawline.

“I have a sort of an idea of how much you want me” I whisper and I reach down to his waist. He let out a sharp gasp as soon as my fingers found his waist. His grip around my thighs tightened for a brief moment, his body tensing at my touch. A hungry rumble escaped his lips, his hands grasping my hips firmly, his fingers digging into the skin as he held me in place.

“Careful what you wish for, darling…” he chuckled lowly in my ear as he nibbled on my earlobe. I unbutton his pants, leaving the zipper up. “I’m wishing for it….. make my wish come true?” I coo.

A low groan escaped him as my hands began unbuttoning his pants, his body quivering with anticipation. His thumb traced circles over my skin as he leaned down, his mouth finding my neck, his teeth grazing over my pulse.“Oh, darling…You’re making it extremely hard for me to hold back,” he said with a low, warning growl.“I don’t want you to hold back Sii.. I want you to ravish me” I say with a voice mixed with pleasure and pleading.

His breathing was ragged, his eyes darkened with a passion that was bordering on feral. A low, possessive growl escaped him as he pressed his body down into mine, pinning me underneath him.

"You don’t have to ask me twice," he murmured hotly in my ear, his teeth tugging on my earlobe. His mouth claimed mine in a heated, possessive kiss.

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost cod

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nmakii · 2 days ago

Note

omg bachira, isagi, tetchou and dazai with an autistic s/o PLEASE

if you will , make them headcanons ^^ hope you have a wonderhoy day !!

hello, my alien. we’re each other’s mystery

— bachira + isagi + tetchou + dazai x autistic!s/o

so basically all of them x me i see.. i feel like i fucked up on isagi i cant pinpoint his personality ugh. debut into bllk omg im shy hi reentry into bsd too haha if u guys were active in 2022 i think i am familiar. WAIT NOTE AB THE TITLE… LISTEN TO FRIENDS BY BTS IM NOT ABLEIST ITS SUPPOSED TO BE CUTE :(

— bachira meguru

lets be honest he is also a bit autistic…

very hard to be around when you’re overstimmed ngl… he tries to tone it down when he knows you cant handle too much at the moment. but it’s hard for him to just dial the craziness to 50 😞

oh, very good though at getting you out of social situations. he can slip the two of you out of a party like it’s nobody’s business, cause it is nobody’s business :x

hes also a bit of a wild card too if you’re obsessive about having a routine. he’s a free spirit, so having to do things the same way is a bit of a chore.

when you go non-verbal, he brings out a notebook that you two write your conversations on. he doesn’t actually have to write it down. he can communicate just fine, but he likes to write them down as a memento of your relationship.

he alsoooo likes listening to you yap about your special interest! very attentive, you’d think that you’re a professor and he’s your student at how the flow of your conversation is going

“huh— where did bachira and s/o go..?” isagi asked. he turned around, looking for the two of you after the sudden realization that he was abandoned in the middle of the buffet line…

bachira pulled you out, and in an abandoned hall. he noticed you suddenly started plugging your ears.

‘you ok sunshine? :( is the music too loud?’

‘a little bit… i just wanna get away for like 5 min..’

‘hehe, dont worry. ill stay with you （╹◡╹） <3’

‘ty meg :) <3’

bachira smiled as he saw your hand-drawn emoticon. the two of you doodled all over the notebook while he hummed until you were ready to return.

isagi groaned as he saw the two of you reenter. “you guys..! you should’ve told me if you were gonna sneak away!” bachira stuck out his tongue, making a silly expression. “oops! it just slipped my mind!” he snickered.

— isagi yoichi

with the geniuses he has to keep up with, you’re a total walk in the park for him ;p

mega caretaker, he’s super good at protecting you in uncomfortable environments. i feel like he has a weighted blanket somewhere in his room to cover you with, cause he knows it makes you feel safe.

he lowk overprotective sometimes though. he knows his friends like bachira and raichi are a bit more on the raucous side, so he doesn’t hang out with them when he’s with you until like… 2 years into your relationship (they lowk didnt even know he had a partner). in those two years, he only introduced you to his peaceful friends like nagi, hiori, iemon, and kuon

he doesn’t fight you too much about if you have a routine. he has a luck routine and his spacial awareness makes him really meticulous about how things happen, so he’s gets your struggle :x

he tried learning sign language. he really tried… but there was so much signs; for an entire month, his search history was ‘how do i say [thing] in sign language’

he ended up only learning the alphabet, numbers, and basic words like please and hungry. now when you go non-verbal, he simply just opens his notes app for you to type ;p

he, like bachira, loves your yap. its like his personal podcast fr. he likes to let you sit on the kitchen counter and yap, while he washes dishes. he also likes putting on wireless headsets and listen to your voice messages while he practices, or works out at the gym.

“are you absolutely sure you wanna meet them?” isagi asks. “babe, theyre my friends, but theyre also kind of annoying.” he warns you. of course he meant it lovingly… you nod. “yup! they’re your friends, yoi. i wanna meet them..!”

he sighs and nods. “fine… don’t say i didn’t warn you…” he opens the door. you recognize kunigami, he’s talking with chigiri. “isagi! there you areee~!” a boy with a bob-cut hums. “ah, bachira… this is s/o.” isagi points to you. “ooh~! nice to meet you! im bachira meguru. so you’re the one isagi’s been hiding?”

“don’t overwhelm them too much…” isagi sighs, he pulls you away carefully, bringing you in kunigami’s direction. if you settled in with people you were already acquainted with, then you should probably adjust better. that was isagi’s conclusion. “if any of them pester you, just tell me, okay?”

you nod, a bit saddened at your’s and bachira’s conversation’s sudden end. “im not a kid, yoi. you don’t have to worry over me or anything.” isagi frowns. “hnn… i just don’t want my friends overstimulating you. they might be too much for you, babe.” he explains. at that moment, igaguri suddenly yelled out at gagamaru for taking one of his gyozas, making you instinctively cover your ears.

“seeee?” he points out. “okay… point taken… but, i can still deal with it. if im uncomfortable, ill just tell you, okay?” you offer, trying to compromise. isagi looks around, weighing the possibilities before nodding. “finee…”

that day actually went quite well, you were able to keep up with all of them without getting overstimulated. that night, isagi had his face in his pillow, his face being that of death and grief. ‘they dont need me anymore… theyre gonna end up hanging out with my friends more than me…’ he mumbles.

— tetchou suehiro

another lowk might be autistic (but in a diff way)

he isnt too sure about what to do when you’re overstimmed. so, he usually just takes you to a quiet place and sits down with you until you’re calmer.

hes hella conflicted on whether or not he should introduce you to the hunting dogs. his line of work is pretty dangerous after all, and his co-workers aren’t exactly… pacifists 💀

he ends up deciding not to though. worst comes to worst, he just introduces you 5 years in to your relationship— thats what he thinks.

he doesnt mind your routine. he, himself, is pretty eccentric, so you two are just okay with each other’s quirks :x

tetchou doesnt care when you go non-verbal. lol. okay joke, its more like, he’s also very quiet, he doesn’t even actually notice that you two havent talked to each other for 14 hours.

but when the two of you are talking, he is still as quiet as ever. it’s usually you yapping and tetchou asking questions once in a while. never though, does he ever interrupt you when you talk; always waits for you to finish what you’re saying so you dont lose your train of thought 🫡

tetchou spreads some spicy ranch on his pancakes. it was a pretty good combo. he sat at the dining table, as he heard your alarm clock ring.

first thing you do when you wake up, stretch then use the bathroom. tetchou has your routine memorized by now. second, have cereal for breakfast. third, get dressed. fourth, check if your bag has everything you need. he continues his own routine, and you complete yours, until it’s time to head to work.

you’re double, triple, quadruple checking your bag, making sure you didn’t leave anything. tetchou finished lacing up the strings of his boots before he rises back. “ready for work?” he asks, taking his own little peek into your bag.

“uhuh” you nod. tetchou hums, noticing the charger you left on the counter, and slipping it into your bag. “now you are…”. you gasp, “so that’s what i forgot… thank you, chou..” you say. his deep voice vibrates in his throat as he leans in and kisses you, “stay safe. call me if you need anything.” you wrap your arms around his neck.

last part of your routine, hug and kiss tetchou before leaving for work.

— osamu dazai

he lowk adhd u feel?

when youre overstimmed, he lets you lay on his shoulder while he pats your back and brushes your hair. times like this are his personal favorites, it’s when the world is quiet and no one but you and him exists.

defdefdef introduces you to the ADA members. he finds you similar to kyoka, and always encourages you to hang out with her.

adding on that, he sort of sees akutagawa in you… is akutagawa also autistic? hmm… either way, hes a criminal! he cant let his partner interact with a criminal! — the criminal says after diner dashing again.

the routine thing doesnt really work for dazai either… it’s either you break up with him or let him wake up at 4:00 to eat noodles and rearrange the layout of his dorm, bestie… (just leaves his pot in the sink btw, he a bum like that)

actually knows sign language! dont ask me why he knows, bc i dunno either. he just does :x

he also loves to listen to your yap. actual yapper x yapper. you two’s conversations are lowk exhausting though. you both interrupt each other and talk until you’re both breathless. HAHAHAAH

sluuuuuuurp!

you’re waken up by the loud, really gross, squelching sounds of dazai’s saucy noodles as he slurps them up. the sound is uncomfortable— really uncomfortable.

“s—samu… dont… too loud…” you groan, trying to cover your ears. dazai perks up, “ah, did i wake you..? awh, im sorry, dear..!” he apologizes. even though dazai truly meant it, for some reason it just sounded like sarcasm. “uhuh… j…just dont do it again… trying to sleep…” you hum. “got it… go back to sleep, sweets”

for the rest of the night, you sleep well. dazai makes sure to remain veeeery quiet, taking bites of his noodles rather than slurping, carrying his feet, and using all of his hidden muscles to carry his bookshelf. maybe if he keeps doing this, he wont look so lanky anymore.

at around 6:30, you finally wake up again, your surroundings completely different, and you start to panic. “wh—h..huh..?” you look around. dazai’s in the closet, rolling all of his empty beer bottles into it. “hi, baby! just decided to tidy up a bit. you like?” he asks

tidy up? “tidy up, my ass..! all of your stuff is in different places..! i have to relearn my way around your dorm all over again..!” you complain. “hehe… it was for a good cause! you have your own space now in here!” he grins, opening the second to the bottom drawer in his dresser. it was tidied up, and empty.

“for me?” you ask. “mmhm.” he confirms with a hum. even though dazai was quite lazy, stubborn, and annoying, he really put effort into making you happy. just you.

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daisymbin · 3 days ago

Note

can i request for hoshi + 8 was anything real between us?

also happy ending plss 🥹

of course 🥰 thank you for requesting!!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // soonyoung's m.list

angst prompt #8: "was anything real between us?"

soonyoung couldn’t stop watching you. it had been like that for the past few weeks—your laugh no longer making his heart race the way it used to, your touch no longer feeling like a spark. you were slipping away from him, and no matter how many times he tried to convince himself it was just a phase, the truth gnawed at him like a bitter taste.

the two of you had always been in this strange, limbo space—something more than just friends, but never quite enough to call it a relationship. late-night calls, inside jokes, and lazy mornings spent tangled in each other’s arms. soonyoung had always enjoyed it, always hoped it could be more. he’d wanted it to be more.

but you were pulling away. slowly, almost imperceptibly, but it was there. you didn’t laugh at his jokes as much, didn’t touch him the same way anymore, and lately, it felt like every time you two hung out, you were rushing to leave, making excuses to cut your time short.

tonight was supposed to be different. it was supposed to be just the two of you, sharing dinner at his place, like old times. but as the night wore on, he felt it again—the distance. you were quieter than usual, distant in a way that made him anxious. he tried to brush it off, tried to chalk it up to you having a bad day, but deep down, he knew something was wrong.

as you stood up from the table, gathering your things, he felt his heart sink. “are you leaving already?” he asked, his voice low, the hurt creeping in before he could stop it.

“yeah, i—i have work tomorrow,” you mumbled, not meeting his eyes as you zipped your bag shut. “i should get going.”

“no, wait,” soonyoung's voice cracked desperately, standing up quickly, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “why are you acting like this?” his voice was soft but filled with confusion, his eyes searching yours. “what’s wrong? why have you been so cold lately?”

you froze, your chest tightening. you knew exactly why. the more you fell for him, the more you realized this… this wasn’t going anywhere. you had tried to convince yourself otherwise, told yourself that things were fine, but it hurt too much to keep pretending. it hurt to realize you’d fallen in love with someone who couldn’t see you the way you needed him to.

but you couldn’t tell him that. not when your heart was already breaking just thinking about it.

“nothing’s wrong,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze as you pulled your wrist gently from his grasp. “i just have a lot on my mind, okay?”

“no,” soonyoung’s voice hoarse, desperation in his words as he took a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “don’t lie to me,” his thumb brushed softly over your skin, his eyes searching yours, pleading for an answer. “you’re not the same. you’ve been distant. have i done something wrong? did i hurt you?”

you shook your head, taking a shaky breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “no, you didn’t hurt me, soonyoung. i just…” your voice trailed off, the words too hard to say. how could you explain that the more you let yourself care about him, the more you realized this was nothing but a dead-end?

“you just what?” he pressed, his grip on your cheek tightening ever so slightly, the vulnerability in his eyes evident. “tell me what’s going on, because i can’t stand this. i can’t stand not knowing why you’re pulling away from me.”

your heart pounded in your chest as you finally met his eyes. “soonyoung…” your voice was barely a whisper, the words too difficult to say out loud. you had been avoiding them for so long, afraid that once you said them, everything would fall apart. “i’m scared.”

soonyoung frowned, his thumb still brushing over your cheek. “scared of what?”

“scared that this… this thing between us isn’t real,” you choked out, the tears finally escaping. “we’re just… we’re just stuck in this weird place, and i can’t do it anymore. i love you, soonyoung, but i don’t think you love me back the same way. i don’t think you ever will.”

the silence between you two stretched out, heavy and suffocating. soonyoung’s eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly as he processed your words. “what… what are you talking about?” his voice was low, almost broken. “i love you. i love you so much.”

you shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “no, soonyoung, you don’t. not in the way i need you to.”

he stepped back, his hand falling from your cheek, and for a moment, he looked lost. hurt. “so that’s it? you're not even going to try? you’re just going to walk away?”

your chest ached. “i don’t want to, but—”

“was anything real between us?” soonyoung interrupted, his voice raw, his eyes searching yours desperately for an answer. “was it all just some game to you? did you ever care about me? because i’ve been in love with you, for so long, and i thought… i thought we were building something real.”

you felt like you couldn’t breathe. the words you’d been holding back, the things you were so afraid to say, were coming out now, and it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, choking on your own tears. “i didn’t know what else to do.”

soonyoung took a step forward, his hand gently cupping your face, his thumb wiping away the tears. “i love you,” he said again, his voice softer now. “i love you, and i want to make this work. so stop running from me.”

you looked into his eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. and suddenly, everything became clear. the fear, the doubt, the pain—it was all a reflection of your own insecurities. soonyoung had never stopped loving you. he had always been there, always wanted you.

and you had never really given him the chance to show you.

“i love you, too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i’m sorry for pushing you away.”

soonyoung smiled, the relief flooding his features as he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you like he never wanted to let go. “then let’s make this work, okay? no more running away from each other.”

you nodded, burying your face in his chest, the warmth of his arms around you making everything feel right again.

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winchesterwild78 · 2 days ago

Text

An Unexpected Friendship pt 5

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: mentions of death, fluff

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309.

This chapter has the Reader meeting Jared and Gen, and gifting Jensen something spicy for his birthday.

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Written and edited fast-please overlook any errors.

Minors DNI 18+

The next morning I woke up before anyone else in the house. I crept downstairs and decided to start making breakfast. I heard the creak of the stairs and then felt warm, strong arms around me. I smiled as I leaned against Jensen’s chest. He moved my hair and softly kissed my neck, “Good morning beautiful.” “Good morning, Jensen.” I smiled.

“What are you doing up so early?” He asked as he turned me around to face him. “I wanted to make breakfast for everyone. I figured the kids would need breakfast before they went outside to play. Jensen softly kissed my lips, “Let me help you.” I nodded as I handed him the spatula to flip the pancakes.

I moved around the kitchen getting the rest of breakfast ready. Being in the kitchen, making breakfast for all of us with Jensen felt easy, perfect. As the two of us cooked and moved around the kitchen, we would steal little kisses and touches. It made my heart flutter and made me giggle a little. Jensen would smirk every time I let out a giggle.

Just as we finished cooking we heard the unmistakable sound of little feet bounding down the stairs, “Sounds like the kids are up.” Jensen chuckled. “Yeah, by the sound of it, all of them are.” I smiled.

All four kids came into the kitchen. “Good morning, guys.” I greeted them with a smile. “Good morning.” They all said, almost in unison. “I hope you’re hungry, we made breakfast.” The kids sat around the table as Jensen and I plated their food.

As we ate we talked about some things we had going on soon. Jensen told us he was due to leave in about a week to start filming in Toronto. The kids all looked a little sad. I tried to hide my sadness, but my eyes met Jensen’s and he knew.

“So I want to invite Jared, Gen and the kids over tonight. I want them to meet you and Jazzy and hang out before I have to leave. I figured we could grill out and have dinner.” The kids squealed in delight and told Jazzy how much fun Tom, Shep and Odette are.

I was a little nervous. This was Jensen’s best friend and I wasn’t exactly sure if he would approve of mine and Jensen’s relationship moving so quickly.

After breakfast was done the kids went upstairs to change and I started to clean up. Jensen came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked softly. I nodded yes, not trusting my voice. I could feel the sting of the tears in my eyes.

This was the first time Jensen was leaving us and I didn’t know how I was going to handle it. He turned me around to face him and he saw the tears in my eyes. “Oh baby, what’s wrong?” “Nothing, Jens. It’s stupid. I’ll be okay.” He lifted my chin, “Sweetheart, it’s not stupid if it’s upsetting you, and clearly whatever it is is really bothering you. Please, baby. Talk to me.”

I took a deep, steading breath, “Honestly I’m a little nervous to meet Jared and Gen. What if they don’t like me and tell you we are moving too fast and you decide to break up with me. I’m also a little sad you’re leaving. I understand you have to go film, but this is the first time you will be gone.”

“Well first, Jared and Gen are going to love you because I do, and filming is something we will have to navigate together. I try not to be gone too long, and I will FaceTime you every day. I can’t go a day without seeing you, so you better be ready for our video calls.” He chuckled.

I felt a little better, but it still was in the back of my mind. I finished cleaning, and got showered and dressed. After we were all dressed, we decided to take the kids shopping and then to the grocery store to get stuff to cook. Jensen had called Jared and he loved the idea of coming over to eat and meet us.

“So Y/N, while I’m gone filming I’ll call the nanny that usually keeps the kids for me so you don’t have to worry about anything.” I looked at him a little taken back, “Oh okay, if that’s what you think is best.” Jensen continued driving, but looked over at me. “Baby, are you okay?” He took my hand in his. "Yeah, I mean I guess. I understand you getting the nanny, but honestly I thought I would look after them. If I’m going to be a part of their lives, I’m going to have to figure out how to navigate life with four kids.” As Jensen pulled into a parking spot he looked over at me, “Honey, I was going to call in the nanny to help. You will still be in charge. She’s just going to be an extra set of hands for you.” He smiled at me. “Oh okay, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I appreciate that Jensen.” I leaned over and kissed his lips, earning “ewws” from the backseat.

Jensen and I laughed and got out of the car.

We got the kids out and went into the store to shop. Jensen picked up some things he needed for his trip, the kids all got new shoes and I picked up some things I needed for the house. Jensen disappeared for a few minutes as the kids and I made our way to the check out lane.

A few hours later we were home, Jensen had fired up the grill and the Padalecki’s were there. I was so nervous when they walked in, but Jared pulled me into a big bear hug and made me feel instantly at ease. “I’m so glad you’re okay and you’re here taking care of our boy. He was worried sick about you.” Gen was just as sweet, telling me she could see how much Jensen cared about me just by looking at him.

“He’s been a little adrift after his wife died, so I’m glad he found you, and he has you.” I smiled softly at her as she said that to me, “I’m glad I found him too. He’s an incredible person, an amazing father, and an even better boyfriend. I am going to miss him when he leaves next week for filming. I just hope we can navigate this together.”

Gen touched my hand, “Hey, I’m here for you. When the guys leave for filming or conventions, it’s hard. It does get a bit easier though. If you need anything while he’s gone, you call me. In fact, let’s figure out a girls day while he’s gone and the kids are in school.”

I smiled brightly, “That would be wonderful, thank you, Gen.” Jared walked over a few minutes later and sat down beside his wife, “So, Y’N. How’s things going? Is our boy treating you well?” I smiled, “Yes, he’s incredible, and Jazzy loves him so much.” “Jensen’s birthday is in about 4 days, so right before he leaves. Do you have anything planned?” Jared asked.

“Actually yes, I had pictures taken for him of all four of the kids and had prints made, I also ended up getting him something I can’t tell you about because it’s private and for his eyes only.” I smiled as he got a confused look on his face. Gen smiled at her husband's confusion.

Then the realization hit him and he blushed a little. Gen and I laughed. Jensen looked over at the three of us and smiled. He continued cooking and Jared got up and walked over to him.

Gen looked over at Jensen and then back at me. “He’s in love with you, I hope you know that. I’ve seen that look one other time in all the years I’ve known him, and he married that girl.” I smiled and looked at Jensen then back at her, “I’m in love with him too. I know it’s fast and it doesn’t make sense, but there is just something about him. Being with him is easy, being with the kids is easy.”

Gen touched my arm and smiled, “Don’t let anyone tell you two it’s too fast. When you know you know, it doesn’t matter how long it’s been. I knew Jared was it for me right away. It was love at first sight.”

Jared and Jensen were talking around the grill, “Hey man, I really like Y/N, and her daughter is adorable. She seems like she’s good for you and the kids.” Jared said to Jensen. “Yeah, Jar, everything feels right. I’m in love with her.” Jared touched Jensen’s shoulder, “I know man, I know.”

As the evening came to an end, Gen and I exchanged numbers and picked a day to go to the spa. We all agreed to go to dinner for Jensen’s birthday before he left for filming. Hearing again he was leaving made my heart a little sad. I knew he had projects already set up, but as the days creeped closer to him leaving I grew sadder.

We said our goodbyes, and got the kids in bed. As Jazzy crawled in bed she started to cry. “What’s wrong baby?” I asked as I tried to hold her. “I don’t want Daddy Jensen to leave. He won’t come home to me.” Jensen heard her and walked into the room and sat on the bed beside her. “Baby girl, I promise I’ll be home before you know it.”

She threw her arms around his neck and held tightly. “Daddy, please don’t leave me.” She cried. My heart broke and Jensen’s did too. He held her tightly and did his best to quiet her fears. “Shh baby, it’s okay.” Jensen ended up rocking her until she fell asleep in his arms.

He gently laid her down and covered her up. We slipped out of the room and in the hallway I threw my arms around him and kissed him, “Thank you, Jensen. You are an incredible father.” He pulled me close and kissed me back, “And you’re an incredible mother.”

Jensen and I crawled into bed and made love until we were both satisfied, then we laid in each other’s arms and talked. We talked about his trip, the kids, and our future.

The next few days passed too fast. Jensen’s birthday was in two days and I started to get nervous about his gift. I wondered if he would really like what I got him, more specifically the special gift from me. I knew he’d love the pictures of the kids, but I was getting nervous about my gift.

Jazzy came into my room fidgeting. “Mommy.” “Yes, baby?” “Um Daddy’s birthday is soon and I want to get him something.” I smiled at her, “Baby I already picked up something from the four of you.” She hung her head, “Oh, okay.” I took her hand and smiled softly, “Jazzy, go get your coat and we can go find something.” She smiled brightly and took off.

“Jens, I’m taking Jazzy out for a bit, we will be back shortly.” Jensen walked into the room and kissed my lips, “Okay baby. Be careful. I love you.” I leaned back in and kissed him, “I love you too.”

Jazzy and I went to the store and she carefully walked through each aisle. She’d pick up something, carefully inspect it and then put it back down. I could tell she was getting frustrated. That’s when I saw a plaque that talked about a dad who stepped up and didn’t have to. I picked it up and read it with a smile on my face.

Jazzy looked up at me, “Mommy, what does it say?” I read it to her, “Stepped Up Dad. One who made the Choice to love another’s child as their own. One who Steps Up to provide, Protect, encourage and love. You may not have Given me the gift of life but you have given me the Gift of you. Thank you for being the Father you didn’t have to be.”

Her eyes went wide, “Mommy that’s Daddy Jensen.” I smiled, “Yes it is baby.” “Mommy, can I get that for him?” I smiled and nodded. She carefully carried it to the register and I paid the bill. When we got home she carried it to her room and I took her some wrapping paper. She wanted to wrap it herself.

As she was wrapping her gift she looked over and saw her stuffed rabbit she’d had since she was a baby. She smiled and got an idea.

The day of Jensen’s birthday I made him his favorite breakfast, the kids all made him cards and it was time for me to give him the gifts I had made for him. Before I could give him the pictures of the kids, Jazzy came in with her gift.

She handed it to Jensen with a big smile on her face. I noticed the gift looked like she had added something to it, I just wasn’t exactly sure what it was. Jensen smiled as he was opening her gift. As soon as he opened it her stuffed bunny fell out. Jensen looked a little confused, “Baby girl, did you mean to wrap this?” Jensen held up the bunny.

She nodded, “Yes, so you can take it with you when you go. To keep you company and remind you of me.” Jensen pulled her close and kissed her head, “Thank you baby girl.” He carefully sat the bunny down and opened the rest of the gift. He read the plaque and you saw tears prick his eyes. He looked at you and then at Jazzy. “I love this so much sweetie.” He pulled her close.

Then I handed him a box. He looked at me and smiled. When he opened the box he gasped. “These are beautiful! Wow! Look at all my babies together.” I had him larger prints made, but I also had him a small flipbook made so he could take it with him. He stood up and pulled me up and into his arms, “These are amazing, thank you baby.” Jensen kissed me deeply.

After he opened his gifts the kids went to play and it was time for me to give him my gift. I took a deep breath, “Um, Jens. I have another gift for you.” His eyes sparkled “Baby, you didn't have to get me anything else.” “I know, but I wanted to. I’m just really nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before and honestly I’m terrified.”

Jensen cupped my face and looked in my eyes, “Darlin’ you don’t ever have to be nervous or scared with me.” I took a deep breath and let it out, then handed him another box.

Jensen opened it and pulled out the bound book. As he flipped through it, I noticed the smirk on his face grow wider and it turned into a genuine smile. “Damn, I’m a lucky man. These are incredible, beautiful. You’re beautiful.” I blushed as he looked at the boudoir pictures I had made for him. As he flipped through the book I noticed he was getting more excited, and he had to adjust his pants.

When he got to the last picture he started laughing. His head went back and he laughed. The last photo was me wearing nothing but a “I Love Dean Winchester” shirt. I chuckled.

He pulled me close and kissed me. “Thank you baby. These were absolutely incredible and the pictures of all our babies together was perfect. I actually have an appointment I need to get to, but I’ll be back soon. Are you okay with holding down the fort?” I nodded, “Yes, baby. Go ahead and head out. We will be fine. Besides, the kids wanted to surprise you with something later anyway, so this works out perfectly.”

I kissed him quickly and he headed out while the kids and I got busy making his cake.

A few hours later the cake was ready and Jensen came home. He smiled when he saw the cake. “Hey, Y/N, kids, can you guys come here?”

All of us went into the family room and Jensen's smile was huge. “So guys, Y/N and Jazzy are a big part of our family now. We live together, and I love them very much.” He looked at his children, “And I know you three love them too. Jazzy like a sister and Y/N like a second mom.” The kids shook their heads yes.

“So I did something today to make sure everyone else knows how much I love them.” Then he lifted his shirt and we saw on his arm a new tattoo. Intertwined with the tattoos he had for his children was a bouquet of Jasmine flowers.

I gasped when I saw it. I couldn’t believe he added a tattoo for Jazzy. Jazmyne was speechless when we explained it to her.

“Daddy got me on his arm, too?” “Yes, baby. I did.” All the kids gathered around him and looked at his arm. They loved it too.

“Okay guys, let’s go get some dinner with Uncle Jared and Aunt Gen.” Jensen said as he stood up. “Kids go change. I laid your clothes on your beds.” I told them as they bounded up the stairs.

Jensen and I walked to our shared room and started to change. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. “See something you like, Ms Y/L/N?” I stepped closer and rested my hands on his bare chest, “Oh absolutely, Mr Ackles. You just wait until we get home tonight. I saved those outfits from the pictures.” I winked at him and went to walk past him. He grabbed me and growled, “Mmm I can’t wait to see them on you, and take them off.” I giggled as he pulled me closer.

*Time Jump to the day Jensen leaves*

The morning of the day Jensen had to leave was a bit somber. JJ, Arrow and Zeppelin were used to Jensen leaving, but that didn’t mean it was easy for them. I was worried about Jazmyne. She had been having nightmares about Jensen not coming home and she didn’t want him to leave her side. Two nights ago she woke up from a nightmare and wouldn’t let Jensen go, so he laid down beside her and fell asleep laying on her bed.

Last night was another night of tears and her begging him not to leave. Jensen found his old stuffed Care Bear he had when he was younger and gave it to her to hold. “Jazzy, this was mine when I was about your age. This is Braveheart Bear. My mother bought him for me to keep with me to help me be brave when they were gone for work. You see, my dad went away to act too, and I would miss him. So my mom got me this and look, *he pointed to the bear’s foot), it has my name on it. I want you to hold on to it. It will help you be brave while I’m gone. So you have my stuffy, and I have yours.” She took the bear and held it tightly against her chest.

She finally drifted off to sleep. This morning when she got up she was carrying it around with her. I laid on our shared bed in Jensen’s shirt as he packed. I kept sliding his shirt further up my thigh. I giggled as he groaned.

“Baby, you’re killing me.” He bit his lower lip. “Oh I know.” I smirked. Jensen dropped his bag and climbed on the bed, hovering over me and started to pepper me with kisses. “God I’m going to miss you, Y/N.” “I’m going to miss you too, Jensen.”

Jensen got up and carried his bags downstairs. I got dressed and went down to join him. I could hear the kids playing as I helped Jensen gather the last bit of stuff to put in his bag.

I had his charger and other things and went to put them in his bag. I walked into the living room expecting his bags to be by the door but they weren’t there. “Hey, Jensen. Where are your bags?” “They are by the front door.” I looked around and still didn’t see them.

“Honey, they aren’t there.” Jensen walked in the room, “What? I just set them down.” We searched all over the house for his bags and couldn’t find them. We walked into the playroom and found JJ, Arrow and Zeppelin playing, “Hey guys, have you seen daddy’s bags?” They looked up and in unison said no.

“Have you three seen Jazzy?” I asked as I realized she wasn’t in the room. “She was in her room.” Arrow answered.

I walked to Jazzy’s room and found her sitting on her bed with Breaveheart. “Hey Jazzy, have you seen Jensen’s bags?” She shook her head quickly and looked down. Jensen appeared at the door and I looked at him.

“Jazmyne Marie, did you do something with the bags?” I asked sternly. She lowered her head and shook her head yes, then pointed to behind the bed. Jensen stepped over and looked, finding his bags. He pulled the bags out and looked at me. “Jazmyne Marie, why would you take his bags? You know he needs to leave.”

Tears fell from her eyes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want him to leave.” I was about to say something else, but Jensen touched my arm and stopped me. “It’s okay, darlin’. I’ve got this. “Baby girl, come here.” Jensen pulled Jazzy into his lap. “I promise the days will go by fast. You’ve got your mama, JJ, Arrow and Zeppy. You also have Braveheart, and I have Mr. Bunny. I also had this made for you.” He pulled out a small box and Jazzy opened it. It was a heart shaped locket like the girls had. Jensen opened it and showed her a picture of her on one side and him on the other. “Now, we will always be together no matter how far apart we are.”

“I love it, thank you.” She said as he put it on around her neck.

The time to say goodbye to Jensen had arrived. The kids cried and held him tightly. He had tears in his eyes too. Then he pulled me flush to his chest, “I love you so much, Y/N. You take good care of our babies while I’m gone, and I promise when I get back, you and I will spend the whole day in bed.” I kissed him deeply, “I’ll hold you to that, Ackles.”

Jensen grabbed his bags and headed outside with them. He loaded the SUV, turned to wave goodbye and blew us a kiss. “I love you five so much, take care of each other while I’m gone, and kids be good.” We waved, blew kisses and watched him drive away. I stood there wondering how I was going to survive the next month without him, without his kiss, without his arms wrapped around me.

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