#i fear i would pass away immediately | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tarotsoul · 1 month ago

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ghost in the wind — part four

summary: struggling to get a grip on your newfound power, azriel is the only one your magic allows close. and there’s no stopping either of you when you spend the night alone together.

warnings: grieving, mentions of death, swearing, kissing, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, shadow play (hehe)

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist

Lucien Vanserra knew not to question his mate when she demanded they left for Velaris immediately. Two days of travelling. He had not asked questions—had not doubted his mate’s worry and vision, not even for a moment.

Elain saw the blast before it occurred. She felt the earth quake beneath her feet, felt the soil and life around her stand still. A power had been awoken. A power so fierce it had shook the lands of even the Day Court.

She had known of your presence in Prythian. Feyre had sent word to her, promised it had been nothing to worry about, that Nesta had taken you away from Rafe and that you were finally safe.

Safe.

That feeling in her stomach promised anything but safety. Two days of travelling. Two days of no rest. And despite her seering abilities, despite the far future she had already glimpsed, nothing could have prepared her for what greeted her arrival.

While Velaris remained as beautiful as ever, as busy and bustling as it had before she and Lucien left to travel just over a year ago…there was nothing but desolation in the air. Every breath was hard to inhale, every step on cobblestones and patchy soil a struggle to walk.

Something was very, very wrong.

Those suspicions were confirmed the moment she stepped foot into the River House. An eerie silence settled as soon as she passed the threshold of her High Lord and Lady’s home. Lucien could sense it, too. The hairs on the back of his neck spiked the further he walked through the grand abode.

Rhysand met them in the foyer, a grave and wanton look to his handsome features. Elain did not apologise as she pushed past him and made for her two sisters. Both stricken with tears and pure dread. Elain struggled to loose a breath, struggled to come to terms with the energy that invaded her.

“I came as soon as I felt it.”

Feyre met her gaze, eyes lined with grief. Elain took a step closer. “Where is she?”

Nesta sniffled, raised her head and kept her chin high. But Elain knew her sister, knew she was close to crumbling all over again. She could not speak, could not open her mouth in fear of what animalistic cry might break through.

Feyre spoke instead. “She’s upstairs, Azriel will not leave her side.”

Azriel, yes. Elain had seen those visions, too.

A question rose on the tip of her tongue, one she never considered she’d ever have to ask. She felt Lucien’s presence as he neared, a comforting hand reaching to caress her arm in comfort. She melted into it, though unlike usual, he was not able to settle the dread in her chest.

“Her heart stopped beating after the blast,” Rhysand spoke softly as he entered the room, reaching for his mate. “However, Madja believes her soul is still in her body. She thinks Y/N is still fighting, despite all else suggesting otherwise.”

Elain blinked back her tears. It was never supposed to have gone this way. You were never supposed to have died.

“Madja is looking into some remedies, into the history of your mothers bloodline. For now, all we can do is wait. She has taken samples of blood and hair from Nesta and Feyre, there are no magical markers that match with Y/N’s, though if you’re willing, we’d like to test yours, just to be safe.”

Elain allowed her head to dip in acceptance, though the movement was completely subconscious. This would not be the end of you. Could not be the end. Not after everything Elain had peeked in the future.

Azriel had not left your side in two days. The moment the blast settled, he shot through the skies to reach you. He did not expect to find that stone mountain covered in soil and tulips. He did not expect to find your cold, lifeless body collapsed above the rubble.

He had never felt such fear, such despair. And the moment you were laid in his bed, in his room at the River House, he had not left your side. Not for food, water or rest. Not for anything.

He stayed when Madja came to assess you, when she took samples of your blood and hair, when she smoothed a salve over the marred skin of the crescent moon on your chest. He stayed when Mor came to brush your hair and paint your fingernails. He stayed when Nesta came to read to you, when Feyre laid beside you and prayed.

He could not leave that room, could not leave your side.

And when Madja had returned that morning, with a hopeful gleam in her eye that she may have found something to help, he still would not allow himself to hope.

Fear crippled every ounce of his being. Fear of speaking his hopes into existence, that the mother could be cruel to deny him. So he kept his hope buried deep. So deep that his soul latched onto it and called out to you.

The taste of your lips still lingered on his, your scent still wrapped around him. But Azriel could not bring himself to touch you, could not dare a feel of your cold skin. Your heart had stopped beating, your chest had stopped rising.

But he would not allow the idea of your death to linger in his mind. He could feel you, somehow, somewhere. And deep in his soul, he begged for you to hold on, to use whatever power you had to come back.

A gentle knock sounded on the bedroom door, Azriel did not need to turn to know it was Elain. Though he could not scent Lucien beside her.

She moved like a gentle breeze, every step light and hesitant. He knew how hard it had been for everyone, for your cousins. He wanted to allow Elain a moment alone with you, as he wanted with the others, but just as before, his soul would not allow his leave.

“Hello, Elain.”

His voice, so cold and distant. It had been a long time since he had addressed her in such a tone. She bowed her head in greeting and took a seat on the other side of your bed. He didn’t watch her, neither did his shadows. Both he and those wisps of darkness fixated on your unmoving body.

Elain reached for your hand, a breath parting from her pink lips. “She’s cold.”

Azriel closed his eyes, tried to shut out the anguish he wanted to cry. He remained in silence, so did Elain. They sat unmoving, watching you.

Until Elain spoke again.

“I have seen a field of tulips. Where the air is fresh and the soil is rich.” Always speaking in cryptic words, nothing ever as simple as it should be. “I have seen what lay beyond the forest. There is a promise of something stronger than I have ever felt. Something soul-binding.”

Elain did not look at Azriel as she spoke, she did not take her eyes away from you. Uncurling your hand, she placed three seeds in your palm and then curled it shut tight, her fist caressing yours.

“Did you know that green tulips symbolise hope and rebirth?” She turned to him then, her face void of any emotion. “Brown tulips symbolise resilience and commitment.” Her eyes wandered to Azriel’s scarred hands that sat in his lap.

He watched the middle Archeron for a moment, his mind processing the words she spoke. He watched her gaze travel to your spare hand, the one that seemed to reach for him, palm open in invitation.

His mind screamed not to touch you, not to hurt his heart like that. But his soul. His soul ached to feel you once more.

Against his better judgement, he allowed a shaky hand to reach yours—skin cold and lifeless as he held you again. Azriel bit back a cry, willed the tears not to fall. His shadows followed their masters lead, snaking around your fingers and wrist and up your arms.

Elain removed her hand, her eyes fixated on your fist of seeds. It was then that she opened your palm, and right before their eyes, the seeds bloomed into tulips. One green, one brown, one white. And your chest heaved its first breath in two days.

Time stopped, Azriel froze.

And your eyes blinked open.

The air kissed your skin in a way you had never experienced before. The green of the grass was more vibrant than ever, the fluttering of a robin's wings like music to your ears. The river flowed softly, a hum of a sweet lullaby that soothed your soul.

This is what it was supposed to feel like. The power, the magic. Was this how you were destined to live? To be one with the earth and feel its life beneath your feet?

You felt their eyes on you from feet away, felt the way they itched to approach, to hold and soothe you. Elain had been the one to keep everyone back, to allow you a moment to breathe again.

You felt no pain, no sorrow.

They had followed you out of the River House and toward the embankment, allowed you a moment to let your magic flow. A sweet relief, to touch the soil and watch the buds of flora bloom.

Though, you had no control. You did not wield your power to plant in the soil, you did not ask for lily pads to perch on the gentle waters surface. You had no control, but you would. You would find a way to harness it, to wield it.

Another breath, your final moment alone. You turned to the others, to their hopeful faces and a smile began to stretch across your lips.

Cassian was the first one to grin, the first one to step forward to join you. But his sudden movement startled something in your gut. And a root of sharp thorns shot from the soil and dared to pierce through Cassian’s brown skin.

He jumped back, eyes wide and your lips parted in shock. You had not meant to do that, had no thought to hurt Cassian. Your magic acted on impulse, to protect you.

He stepped back again, hands in the air in surrender. Rhysand watched with a tilted gaze, watched when the vine of thorns sunk back into the ground.

So your magic would not allow others to approach you uninvited. Perhaps if you approached them instead.

Your steps were slow, cautious. You held your breath in an attempt to hold down the power that begged to course through your veins.

You dared another look at your friends.

“It’s okay,” Mor smiled. “Take your time.”

Another deep breath, another step. One foot in front of the other, your teeth gritting to keep the power at bay. Three feet away from them, you took another deep breath. This time to calm your racing heart.

“I have no control over it.”

Rhysand offered a gentle smile. “That’s to be expected. How do you feel?”

Your eyes flittered between them all, lingering a moment too long on Azriel before you gazed at the world around you. A tilt upturned your lips.

“I feel like I can finally breathe. I can feel everything in the soil. It’s like the trees are whispering to me, like the birds are singing.”

You looked back to Rhys, to Feyre. “How am I even alive?”

Feyre dared a step closer, and you willed your power to understand she would not harm you. None of them would.

“Madja is looking into it. For now, you need to take it easy. The smallest thing could make your power spiral or act out.” She looked between her family, returning her gaze to you.

“Perhaps it would be best if only one of us remained by your side, for now. Maybe we can test to see who your magic doesn’t see as a threat.”

“Well clearly I’m out of the picture,” Cassian mumbled, scuffing his feet against the grass.

You considered Feyre’s suggestion, perhaps it would be the safest way for now. One step would be enough to see if your power responded, one step enough to create distance just in case.

“Okay, yeah let’s do that.”

Feyre took a step first, hesitant but with a gentle and excited smile. Her emotions were palpable, you could feel the relief that you were alive, the excitement of the prospect of you having a newfound strength.

No one could ever take advantage of you again.

But your power did not allow Feyre another step closer. It wrapped vines around her ankles, keeping her in place. She did not move, her calmness did not falter. You pinched your eyes shut, begged and pleaded for your magic to release her.

And after a few moments, it did.

Feyre returned to her previous position, and Rhysand cleared his throat as he took his turn.

Your power did not allow him closer. It did not allow Mor, or Elain. Nor Lucien or Nesta. It left only Azriel. And your heart thudded wildly in your chest.

You met his molten gaze, and you could feel the taste of his lips on yours again. Azriel did not move to begin with, he instead sent a lone shadow to reach you slowly.

Your magic flickered, but it did not attack. When the shadow weaved through your hair, daisies sprouted in their wake. You didn’t notice Azriel step closer, did not notice until the toes of his boots were just a foot from you and you finally met his gaze again.

Your breathing hitched, throat tightening. Something stirred in your gut, a simmering feeling of relief and comfort and something you felt far too often in your life.

Shame.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to hold it back if it’s too much.”

You blinked, only now realising that you didn’t need to hold your power back. It was settled deep within you, no longer begging for a release.

“I’m not.” You shook your head.

His gaze searched your face, shadows touching your hair. He trailed his eyes down your neck, to your chest where he fixated on that marred area of flesh for just a moment. Hazel eyes snapped back to yours.

It was as though your beauty had been amplified tenfold. Your skin glowed, a lightness in your posture by no longer having such a heavy weight on your shoulders. And your eyes, your eyes gleamed with something he’d never seen before.

Azriel’s chest tightened.

He cleared his throat. “Madja is looking for something to help you learn control. The more we understand your magic, the easier it’ll be.”

You nodded, did not dare to break his gaze. Azriel took another step closer. Just a shuffle of his feet. The toes of his shoes nearly touched yours.

“Don’t be afraid of it,” he advised. “Your power is part of you. If you accept it as such, it’ll yield itself quicker.”

Another nod. Another blink.

A gentle breeze brushed past you, wafting his scent through your senses. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint and a gentle kiss of cinnamon.

You breathed again.

Madja had stopped by to check on you later that afternoon, taking another sample of your blood and hair and asking an abundance of questions you did your best to answer. Your magic had not let her get very close and when she’d pierced your skin with the needle, it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep that power at bay.

Even for just a few moments, it had exhausted you.

Dinner had gone as well as it could. You’d sat at the furthest end of the table, Azriel close beside you but still allowing you some breathing space.

You’d suggested it would be safer for Nyx not to attend, having no control over your power, you would not allow him to be in the same room as you. Not until you harnessed it more.

Your magic flared up twice. Once when Lucien offered you a dish of potatoes. And again when Cassian laughed a little too loudly at something Rhys said. Vines had twisted their way around the legs of the table, creeping over the surface as they slithered to reach the Illyrian.

Azriel placed a hand over yours, his eyes demanding your gaze. “It’s okay,” he reassured softly. And that power began to retreat.

You offered Cassian an apologetic look, though you were certain the warrior was beginning to feel a little targeted. He’d brushed it off, waving a hand and stuffing another spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.

As the night drew to a close, that familiar feeling of discomfort began to bubble in your stomach. The thought of going back to the House of Wind deflated you, suffocated you.

Away from nature, it no longer at the tips of your fingers. You did not want to be confined to the House in the mountains, despite how much it had begun to feel like a home.

Azriel must have noticed as such, because he titled his head to catch your gaze. “Would you like to stay at the townhouse tonight?”

Your eyes widened marginally. “Oh, no. It��s fine. I don’t want to intrude in anyone else's home.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t be intruding. Ever.” There was no room for discussion in his tone. He pulled back slightly, shrugging a shoulder. “Besides, it’s usually empty. I stay there when Nesta and Cassian are…louder than usual.”

A snort slipped past your lips at the innuendo and Azriel had to ignore the way it warmed something in his chest. You’d grown to learn just how loud your cousin and her mate could be. Perhaps the townhouse would be a sweet reprieve from that, too.

Azriel watched the couple quietly, clearing his throat. “Plus, they’ve been drinking,” his voice lowered to a soft whisper, “I can promise you a restless sleep at the House tonight.”

Another breathy laugh slipped off your tongue and Azriel’s eyes twinkled at the sound. Perhaps it was selfish of him to try and convince you to stay at the townhouse. With him and only him. But your power would not let others get closer to you, and he wanted to offer at least one night of peace and comfort.

Especially after all you’d endured.

You bid your family goodnight from a distance, Mor blowing kisses to you across the table and Rhysand reminding you to reach out if anything feels wrong.

The walk from the Riverhouse to the townhouse was a short one, though you enjoyed it nonetheless. Walking beside Azriel as the moon lit your way was nothing short of beautiful, and you did not miss the way his shadows intertwined with your fingers.

“Nuala and Cerridwen have brought some of your things to the townhouse,” Azriel said softly beside you, a lone shadow whispering in his ear.

You offered him a grateful smile, making a mental note to thank the twins whenever you next saw them. Azriel’s lip quirked. “They’ve run you a bubble bath, too.”

Your smile stretched to a grin.

By the time you reached the townhouse, you could smell the lavender oils the twins had used for your bath. Azriel led you into the foyer and a sense of warmth surrounded you.

The townhouse was beautiful. Portraits and trinkets hung on the walls, soft glows of gold and greens as the lamps reflected off the plants. Thick but worn rugs on the floor. You took a breath, your shoulders relaxing.

This felt like home.

Azriel closed the door behind you both and his shadows slinked up the stairs and out of sight. He pressed a very gentle hand to the small of your back. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

He guided you with that same hand just above your coxis, up the stairs and to the left and down the hall. It was a large landing, three or four doors that you could see on this side of the townhouse. You wondered how many other rooms were on the other side of the stairs.

You followed the lavender trail, stopping short outside a door and Azriel turned the knob and pushed it open. This room was much smaller than yours at the House, but Gods was it cosy.

A four poster bed in the centre of the room, two slim dressers either side, a high-back armchair in the corner with a little bookcase beside it. And to the left of that, was an open door that led to a private bathing chamber.

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled on your lips. Nor could you help the feeling of comfort that blanketed you.

Azriel cleared his throat. “I’ll let you bathe and get settled. My room is just opposite yours if you need anything.” He pointed to the door behind you both.

You thanked him, watched him disappear into his own room before you closed the door and made your way to the bathroom.

The water soothed every muscle in your body, seeping into your pores and nourishing your skin. A fresh night slip had been left folded on the counter by the sink, a new bamboo toothbrush and a small basket filled with your favourite moisturisers, oils and balms.

After an hour of scrubbing and soaking, you dried and dressed, applied your creams and combed through your hair. It had been a long time since you’d taken such care of yourself, since you felt relaxed enough to take your time.

You could not shake how much this townhouse felt like home to you.

Scrunching your wet hair softly with a cotton towel, you padded into your bedroom when a knock sounded on the door. You didn’t need to open it to know who it was, Azriel had already informed you it would just be the two of you at the townhouse tonight.

“Come in,” you called over your shoulder.

But nothing could have prepared Azriel for what he walked into. Your back to him, your tiny night slip barely passing your ass, your wet hair pulled over your shoulder as he took note of your shoulder blades.

Such a simple thing should not have affected him the way it did. His shadows pinched the mugs of tea from his hands and floated them to a nightstand, returning to their masters shoulders just as you turned to greet them.

Azriel was no longer wearing his leathers, now adored in a pair of grey sweatpants and a dark blue knitted sweater. It was unusual to see him in something other than black, in something so relaxed.

But Gods, was he beautiful. His hair was slightly damp and mussed from his own bath. He cleared his throat, pointing to the nightstand. “I brought tea.” Azriel was nervous, you could sense it. Smell it.

He stood in the centre of the room, large wings tucked close to his back. You almost frowned at the sight and the comment slipped before you could stop it. “Do you feel uncomfortable around me?”

Azriel’s own brows pinched at that. “No, of course not. Quite the opposite, actually.” He tilted his head, taking a slow step forward. “Why?”

A familiar surge of magic bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Not out of fear or anxiety, and it was not the same as before when it tried to protect you. No. This was different, this felt electric. Excited.

You shrugged, jutting your chin to the dark membrane. “Your wings. They’re tight against your back.”

Azrie’s shoulders sagged slightly, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his full lips. But he couldn’t bring himself to admit he was uptight because your nipples were pearled and almost cutting through the very thin silk of your slip.

“You’re quite observant,” he noted, “I’m not uncomfortable around you, Y/N. I enjoy your company, your presence. I was trying to give you some space. This room isn’t very big, I didn’t want your power to feel suffocated.”

Your head tilted at that. “You could never make me feel suffocated, Azriel. I enjoy your company and presence, too.”

His smile grew broader, a row of white teeth gleaming at you and you had no control when your face mirrored his. His heart thumped in his chest at the sight, at the way a sweet scent of lavender and jasmine wafted through the air.

“You know that night…in the library?” Azriel did not need to ask to know which evening you were referring to. It took every ounce of self-control not to kiss you that night. Only for you to peck his lips in a hasty goodbye just two days later.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement.

Your brows furrowed just slightly. “You said you’d come to my room later so we could talk.” He nodded once more, his mind having already replayed every interaction he’d ever shared with you.

“Can we do that now?” You fiddled with your fingers. “Talk, I mean. If you don’t have other commitments.”

Azriel would drop any prior engagements to spend the night with you. And by the way he gazed into your eyes, it was as though he was silently begging you to understand that.

He did not need to speak or nod, for you only motioned to your bed and he got the hint. Azriel sat with his wings sprawled across the headboard.

He swallowed thickly, watching you tuck your legs beneath your body, the night slip doing very little to keep you covered. His mind would not stop racing, his shadows would not stop whispering. Dirty thoughts of what you were wearing beneath. If you were wearing anything at all.

Azriel struggled to stifle his arousal.

His shadows moved to reach you, caressing every inch of bare skin they could find. A giggle fell from your lips, warmth coating your flesh.

Azriel could not help himself. “You’re so beautiful when you smile.”

Your grin grew, brows raising, eyes finally meeting his. “Only when I smile?” You teased, a newfound feeling of ease settling in every part of your body.

He was pleasantly surprised by your response and dared lean a little closer. This was easy, talking with you. “You’re always beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

You had expected a teasing retort back, not something so sincere and…well…romantic. Your smile faded slightly, a breath stuck in your throat. You swallowed around it. “You have?”

Azriel nodded. You took in a breath, allowing him to reach for you. His wings spread behind him, drooping just enough to show he did, indeed, feel relaxed around you. He reached for you, tucking hair behind your now pointed ear.

Your soul began to hum, content and blissful under Azriel’s keen but gentle touch. No male had ever called you beautiful before. No male had ever looked at you the way he was. As though he was besotted, as though he had never seen anything so wonderful in his life before.

“I had every intention of coming to you that night.” His voice was rough, his tone gentle. It scratched an itch somewhere deep in your core. “Had Rhys not sent me on that mission, I would’ve been there, I would have told you.”

“Told me what?” you breathed.

He swallowed, his scarred hand cupping the soft skin of your jaw as his thumb smoothed over the apple of your cheek. It took everything in you to fight the fluttering of your eyes.

“That no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. The moment you crossed that wall, you consumed every part of me.”

Your breathing staggered, your core pulsed.

“I know you’ve only been here a short time, but I can no longer pretend that I’m not drawn to you. That I don’t crave your touch.” Shadows slinked your skin again, curling at the nape of your neck and imitating a scratching at your scalp.

Your lips parted, chest heaving. Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed at the scent that oozed from you. Sweet arousal consumed him, dared to drag him under.

He loosed a breath. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your body felt like it was on fire, an excitement you had never once felt before. Your chest ached, your thighs trembled. And you knew if you parted your legs, you’d find a pool of wetness dribbling from your core.

No part of you felt guilty for it. No part of you tried to deny your body what it craved. Your soul sung to his, your body shifting closer. His hand on your face trailed down to caress your neck, lower to graze your collarbone, then lower again to skim over the marred flesh of your mark.

Your eyes fluttered closed, a shaky breath sounding from you. You wanted him, needed him. That power surged in the pit of your stomach, desperate. You breathed deeply, the air thicker than before, and full of something you had never once scented.

It was Azriel’s scent, only stronger. A raw and unfiltered scent that stirred the coil in your gut. Eyes fluttering open, they landed on his lap—on the girth that grew beneath the grey of his sweatpants.

You swallowed thickly, chest heaving. You began to stir, hips shifting and brows knitted. “Az…” You were breathless, almost panting and his jaw clenched.

“It’s okay,” he ground out. His fingers toyed with the thin strap of your slip, goosebumps erecting across your skin as his shadows caressed your arms and neck. Your head lulled to the side, eyes hooded.

“Touch me,” you pleaded through a broken whisper.

His jaw clenched again, his pupils blown and wings outstretched and tight. He did not move, did not look away. You reached for his wrist, daring to guide his hand over your full breast, over the perk of your nipple.

A soft moan slipped past your lips. You had never felt arousal like it. Had never felt so needy that you’d resort to begging. Never had you expected to end up in such a state. You never had for Rafe. But this was Azriel. And everything about Azriel was intoxicating.

With your hand over his, you encouraged him to grope you, to feel you. Azriel allowed you to guide him, would allow you to set the pace so long as you were comfortable and sure. So long as he made you feel good.

The strap of your gown slipped down your arm, and you tugged the other down along with it. A low growl sounded from the back of Azriel’s throat. He was losing whatever control he had left. And you were desperate to see him snap.

You shuffled closer on your knees, almost settling in his lap when you pulled his hand away from your breast and allowed the slip to fall past your chest, baring yourself to him. His eyes remained on yours, his chest rising and falling but you did not look away.

If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.

But nothing about this felt wrong. No part of this felt like it wasn’t supposed to be. You did not feel unworthy beneath his gaze, you did not feel guilty for giving into your desires.

Because the way Azriel looked at you, the way his gaze shifted to your chest, the way his eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled your arousal so deeply…you knew he wanted this just as badly as you did.

With his eyes still closed, Aziel blindly reached for your hips and dragged you into his lap. A gasp escaped you, your legs parting to wrap around his waist and your soaked cunt sat over his throbbing cock.

Your fingers tangled in his midnight hair, his head tilting as his breath ghosted your clavicle. Your nipples hardened, back arched. And he swiped his tongue over a pearled nub before suckling it into his warm mouth.

You arched into him, tugging at his hair and rolling your hips against his. Azriel’s grip on your hips tightened, but he did not control you. He allowed you to move at your own pace, allowed you to decide how far you wanted this to go.

You tugged at his hair, beckoning him to look at you. He pulled off your breast, eyes blown with a look of undeniable hunger. You stared at him for a moment, basked in his dark gaze and the feel of him pulsing beneath you.

The weight of your position did not feel heavy, you did not want to stop. But you did not want to rush. You wanted to savour this—him. You wanted to take your time, wanted to understand how sex and intimacy was supposed to feel like.

And Azriel could read as much in just your eyes alone. He leaned close, noses brushing as his lips ghosted yours. “I don’t need to use my cock to bring you pleasure,” he whispered, enveloping your lips in a searing kiss.

Azriel’s hands travelled from your hips, up your waist and to your chest, kneading your breasts and pinching at your nipples. You hummed into his mouth, allowing his tongue to massage yours.

“Let me show you how good it can be. How it’s supposed to feel.”

Your brain felt like it was overgrown in blooms, unable to do anything but nod and hand him the reins. Your magic grew excited, flora sprouting in your damp hair with every kiss he littered down your jaw and neck.

“Turn around for me.” Azriel helped guide your body to how he wanted you, sat between his parted legs, your back to his chest and his lips breezing against the shell of your ear.

“Good girl.”

You were royally fucked.

He let his hands travel down your covered stomach, fingers reaching for the soft skin of your thighs. You welcomed every touch, basked in the rough skin of his scarred hands. You could hardly breath, so pent up in anticipation.

Azriel nipped at your ear. “Can you spread your legs for me, baby?”

A pathetic mewl sounded from your throat and you found yourself nodding obediently and spreading your thighs for him. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around your thighs, down your legs and ankles and slithered back up again. A few rushed back to him, whispering their findings to their master.

Dripping. Excited. Delicious.

Azriel took a laboured breath to steady himself, his cock pressing into your ass. He let his hands grip your waist, fingers reaching the hem of your slip and bunching it in a strong fist.

He pulled it away, exposing your sopping heat and your head lulled back against his shoulder. “Can I touch you?” You nodded before he even finished his question, your legs spreading wider for him.

Azriel snuck a hand between your thighs, cupping your sex as your arousal coated him. His deft fingers rubbed teasingly through your slick folds, spreading the wetness across your entire cunt.

A shuddered breath escaped you. “Please.”

With clenched teeth, Azriel appeased you, reaching up to your clit and pressing the pad of his middle finger against it. A gasp slipped from your mouth, his finger rubbing right circles on that puffy bud.

Rafe had never once touched your clit.

Your hips bucked into his hand and Azriel began to rub faster. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure built in your lower stomach, a feeling only you had been able to get yourself to, and even then never passed.

Azriel could sense your need and replaced his finger with his thumb and reached lower. A single digit probed your fluttering hole, swirling in arousal before slowly sinking between your walls.

You hummed in pleasure, eyes closing as he curled his finger against a spongy spot. Your hips rolled, chest heaving. You had never felt anything so exhilarating in your life. Azriel added a second finger, stretching your cunt deliciously.

“Gods, Az…” you couldn’t find the words to describe what he was doing to you—how he was making you feel. He hummed, nuzzling his nose up your neck and latching his lips to your jaw; kissing and licking and biting.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Look how well you’re taking me.”

Azriel’s praise went to your head, your heart, your cunt. You could feel him everywhere. Shadows pinched at your nipples, Az’s hand working tirelessly against your core. Your hips rolled to meet his movements, your legs shook as he curled and scissored.

You had never imagined it to feel this way.

You rolled your head back, lips parted as you blindly searched for his. Azriel met you in a searing kiss, his tongue licking the insides of your mouth as you fought to meet his pace.

Then the shaking started, and the small whimpers and moans turned to cries as you bucked against him. Azriel only kissed you harder, fucked you harder. The sound of his fingers pummeling your cunt were obscene, wet and loud and spurring you toward the edge.

Your stomach pinched, coiled. A wave of uncontrollable pleasure and power coursed through your very being as you cried out into his mouth. Azriel did not relent his pace, did not offer a moment's reprieve.

He worked you through it, pumping and pinching, sucking and biting. That tight rope in your abdomen snapped, your jaw slacking and eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Azriel watched as you came around his fingers, his own release coating his pants as you clenched around him and cried and thrashed. He had never seen anything so fucking beautiful before in his life.

Your chest heaved, legs trembling. And a flurry of petals rained down on your bodies, clinging to the sheen of sweat on your skin. Azriel reluctantly removed his hand, guiding fingers to his mouth to finally reward himself with a taste.

He regretted it the moment he did it. Because now he did not know how to live without that taste on his tongue for the rest of his life. His cock hardened again at the thought of tasting you properly.

Azriel gazed down at you, fluttering lashes and flushed skin. You were catching your breath, unable to speak a coherent sentence. He leaned down to kiss your mouth slowly, your lips mirroring his. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it only made you crave it once more.

“You doing okay?” He asked gently.

You hummed, chasing his lips when he tried to pull away. Azriel chuckled at your eagerness, he’d given you a taste and now you were hungry for more.

“Not tonight,” he told you.

You couldn’t help the frown, but Azriel planted a kiss to your brow and rested his forehead on yours.

“I don’t want you to rush yourself into these things. You have consumed me, Y/N. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.”

A tether tugged at your soul, so light you almost missed it. But your magic had responded, wrapping itself around that thin piece of string and humming in approval.

“You have no idea how scared I was when we found you in the mountains,” he whispered solemnly. “I thought you were gone.”

You strained your neck to look at him, at the silver that lined those molten honey eyes. Your hand reached for his face, fingers gently striking the stumbled skin of his cheek.

“I’m okay,” you reassured him. “Different, now…yes. But this is who I’m supposed to be. I have to believe the Mother intended for it to be this way.”

He hummed, and that feeling tugged slightly once more—a little harder this time. Your gut, most likely, butterflies.

“I won’t let you do something so foolish again.”

Your head fell back against Azriel’s chest, his shadows working to cover your exposed body again before they tugged the blanket over you.

And there, in his arms, you became someone else. Someone you were always fated to be.

a/n: okay so i got slightly carried away with the teasing between az and y/n so it ended up a bit longer that the other parts BUT the next part is a very big one and potentially the last :(((( but even if it is, i have some ideas to do some check in fics with them in the future!

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

tag list: @anna-reader-blog @bubybubsters @honethatty12 @angiieguevara @honk4emoboyz @e1jeyy @celestialgilb @rcarbo1 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @judig92 @moonfawnx @historygeekqueen @idkitsem @horneybeach1 @apenasandorinha @thaynarajejheje @popcornlauncher @mrsjna @fuckingsimp4azriel @kk191327 @babypeapoddd @bluebries81 @secretlyhers @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mixheleee @be-your-coffee-pot @ly–canthrope @acoazlove @camilasstories @yesiamthatwierd @scoliobean @marigold-morelli @mellowmusings @dreaming-lis @prettylittlewrites @optimisticbabydreamer @halo-mystic @curtaincaramba @donnadiddadog @nocasdatsgay @hisonlykiwi @bookishbroadwaybish @peachyxlynch @hungryforbatboys @call-me-evangeline @stqrgirlies-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @pinksmellslikelove @demon-master-zero @more-a-then-i @svearehnn

((if you’d like to be tagged, please send me an ask, i can’t guarantee i’ll see you asking in the comments of the post))

#gitw #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel imagine #azriel oneshot #azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #acotar imagine #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fluff #acotar angst #acotar oneshot #azriel acotar #acotar smut

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miserycanary · 11 months ago

Text

BREAK MY HEART INTO TWO ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost has been feeling pissed off lately, and happens to lash out on you

tags: slight angst, misunderstandings, very slight mention of violence

He knew he was not in the right headspace. With the newly added task of training new recruits, the dead-end mission, and overall exhaustion. Ghost could feel his patience nearing nothing and he could feel it in his bones that he wouldn’t be able to control himself from lashing out soon— even if it was you.

That’s why he started to distance himself and avoid you like the plague. Only responding with grunts or one-word answers. It’s not the best action but he couldn’t think of anything else. Despite the frustration clouding his mind, he still vows to never hurt you. He promised you that; reassured you that he would never ever raise his voice at you, his hand stroking your back and kissing your temple, after you told him about your past one drunken night.

The first time Simon came home and didn’t immediately wrap his arm around you, nosing the crook of your neck, you knew something was up. You didn’t push the matter though. Brushing it off as something trivial and proceeding to go your usual routine. You did notice things that you never brought up with him: heavy footsteps, the lack of teasing from him, and uncharacteristically never clinging onto you

What finally pushed you to visit the base was when Si, your husband who would go through all levels of hell just to be close to you and never lets a night pass without you with him in bed, suddenly tells you he will be sleeping on the couch. It baffled you. This is the same man who wrapped all his limbs around to keep you from leaving after a big fight. The same man that acts like a big baby when you tell him you’re gonna be away on a work event. Suddenly, the idea of him getting bored of you and finding entertainment with another woman intrusively swirled in your mind.

Were you too loud? Too chatty? Clingy? Maybe you didn’t satisfy him enough. Maybe he wanted a wife available to always cook for him after work. It scared you. You love him; love him enough to change just to keep him.

You needed to talk to him. Whether he likes it or not.

“Price, please. Just call him for me?” The captain looks at you, hesitating. Even though he was aware of Ghost’s thinning temper and didn’t want to put his comrade’s wife in a position that could result in a fight, he also knew that you needed to solve this. He scratches his beard, nervously looking at you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know. The man.. he.. he hasn’t been the best these days? Maybe you should go home and wait for him—“. You cut him off, “he doesn’t want to talk to me! Please, just 5 minutes and I won’t even cause a scene. I promise!” With a sigh, he finally relents and tells you to stay there while he calls for your husband. You crack a smile, nodding and feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

Moments after being alone, a new recruit (you assume considering you’ve never met this man nor did Simon ever mention him) approaches you with a low wolf whistle. His hands find your waist before you can even comprehend what’s happening, pulling you close to his chest.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” You freeze, and disgust starts to bubble up inside of you. You plant your hand on his chest in an attempt to pull away in fear that Simon would witness this and think differently. Before you could say to leave you alone, a voice booms out. A voice you know too well.

“Y/N!” Simon takes three strides and he was near enough to pull the recruit away from you and land a punch. Scandalous gasps went around while the yells of other members went inaudible to you. You stood there in horror as Price stepped in, pushing Ghost away and yelling to stand down. This was not your Simon. Your Simon would never be this violent in front of you— he was too scared to frighten you and do something to push you away. These weren’t the same hands carried you as if a delicate flower he plucked as well. The hands that routinely offers to brush your hair every night and washes you every sex session while he kisses your shoulders, showering you with endless praise with a voice filled with adoration.

Ghost whips his head. His cold stare made you falter, taking a step back. Something you never thought you’d do when faced with him. You could see his mask move, undoubtedly hiding his disappointment and furrowed eyebrows.

“What are you doing here?” He seethes, roughly gripping your arm tight enough to leave a bruise.

“I-I... I wanted to see you—“ Before you could even finish, Ghost groans with frustration. “I fucking told you to not come to the base. Were you even thinking? Use that pea-sized brain of yours once in a while! Just.. leave me alone and go home.”

Silence. The whole base quiets down with his words, a tense atmosphere building up. You freeze. From the corner of your eye, you notice Price’s contort with concern and hesitation if he should meddle.

The pain you felt was indescribable. It was as if Ghost took your heart and crushed it with his bare hands. Your breathing got labored, your eyes flicked down, taking deep breaths to hold back tears. Before the realization has fully settled, you pull away from Ghost, mumbling something incoherent. In that moment, Ghost knew he fucked up. He hurt his darling flower. He hurt the only person he treasured. The person that stayed with him through thick and thin. The person he married, vowed in front of God to love forever and to never hurt.

“No, baby— I didn’t mean to—“

You cut him off, telling him you were going back just like he wanted. You didn’t even call it your home. You always do. Saying it with pride to have something to call home with him.

God, what has he done?

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: dare I say this man needs a break :} Second part is out. Little detail: I use ‘Simon’ during Y/N’s pov and Ghost for the rest, but used Ghost for her after he yelled at her. :3

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #light angst #ghost mw2 #ghost angst #ghost fic #simon ghost x you #canary’s melodies

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retiredteabag · 3 months ago

Text

I believe Nanami has always been a gentleman.

Due to the climate that exists, it can be hard to assume the best of people, knowing this, its not impossible to understand that in your time being a classmate of the man, you had previously been led you to figure the opposite of Nanami Kento.

Of course, you simply could not avoid the blatant roll of eyes when Nanami would bend down to retrieve a fallen pencil for his female classmate. Or when he would place an intentional hand on firm objects to protect from the possibility of future harm. And it would be remiss to not add that you had seen the men in your shared classes sigh anytime Nanami would defend a predominantly feminist sentiment in classroom discussions.

By no fault of your own, you had started to believe the masses that would perpetuate the rumor of his “white knight" status.

This assumption that Nanami was simply trying to get into a girls pants. By being kind and gentle with them, and by being a patient, learned, listener.

This idea all came to a front one day while you were on the train ride home.

Overfilled and uncomfortable, you had never felt so unsafe on your commute home than you had in that moment.

Call it hyper vigilance, but you had the intuition to locate a problem before it occurred. And even before the man, now plastered to your side, had weaseled his way into your proximity, you could smell the poor intentions from a mile away.

Fear sprung through you as you felt his body press against your own, you had a million thoughts flood your brain.

Should you shout at him? Make a scene? Would he accuse you of overreacting? Or perhaps you should simply try to move… but where to? You felt so terribly trapped that you couldn’t withhold the gasp that left you at the sudden ripping loss of his unwanted touch.

A commanding voice, unafraid of accusation, rang through the train car.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

You recognized the tall blond man immediately. He was in your ethics and rhetoric classes, and was notorious for being a real gentleman.

The typical assumption was, that this was for his own personal gain.

And, of course, being nice and being kind are not the same. He, to your knowledge, was being nice, instead of the latter.

Back to the moment at hand though, Nanami’s grasp never faltered on the perpetrators wrist, in fact, your classmate seemed to tighten his fist.

“I said. What the hell. Do you think. You’re doing.”

Real anger resounded from his tone. And every negative emotion from the situation seemed to echo in your brain.

Time passed slowly, all too slowly, and yet, before you could really understand the situation, you had ushered yourself onto your platform after your transport had come to a stop. And somehow, your classmate was staring down at you, asking if you were alright.

“I’m fine.” You force out.

You shouldn’t have to feel grateful nothing worse happened, you shouldn’t feel glad you weren’t physically harmed.

“I’m sorry. This must have been awful…” Nanami runs a hand through his hair and in that moment, all of your vitriol forces itself onto him as he finishes, “May I walk you home?”

Fury at his character, at this act, at everything that had happened today boiled the words out of your mouth, “Oh, for heaven sake, I’m not going to fuck you.”

“W-what?”

To his credit, he looks properly appalled. Stepping a wide margin away from you.

“I’m-I’m sorry, no.” He stutters, clears his throat, “that’s not what I- of course not-“

And he looks genuine in his fear at the thought.

“Right.” You sigh, “Well, thanks for all that, but I need to get home.”

He seems to wage a war within himself, to offer to bring you home, or to leave this be.

After a moment of consideration, he decides on the latter of the options. Solely because he knows now that you must not think of him as a trustworthy or safe individual. And rather than angry at this thought, he is sad. Worried about your past, and determined to be a safe option for you.

“Please get home safe.” And later you will wonder how he remembered you when recalling how he spoke out your name before saying, “I really am sorry, about all of this.”

You had walked home that night jumpy and cold.

—

It wouldn’t take but a week for you to begin questioning his intentions again after you watch your classmate deliver bagged lunches for the homeless outside of campus when he thought nobody was around.

When you had witnessed his genuine argument with another “one of the bros” after disagreeing with them in class.

And when you saw him offer to tutor any and all classmates that felt they might need a little help.

And while you were analyzing his motives, he started to develop his understanding of where you were coming from- eventually deciding that his goal would be to prove to you that he never had any ill will, and instead, cares for you as a human. Not for what you could offer him.

You don’t know yet, but he always has been a gentleman.

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k1mbe3rly · 2 months ago

Note

can i request a thanos and namgyu threesome smut?

ofc🥵

Can you handle it?

warnings; smut, ⚠️threesome⚠️ double penetration, anal, maybe a bit forced? rough sex, dom! Thanos and Namgyu, Shy!reader, Mean!nam gyu

Thanos and Nam gyu had chose you to play with them for the Six legs game, and honestly during it you felt rushed since Nam gyu would scream at you if you messed it up, but in the end yall made it out alive, THANK GOD.

“Guys. Once we vote all of yall are gonna keep playing. Just one more game until it hits one billion at least” Nam gyu spoke, you looked at him, “W-well i think that’s enough money for everyone..i mean.. you spoke shyly

“I said to fucking pick ‘O’ bitch! be fucking lucky, we practically saved your life!” Nam gyu yelled as you flinched a bit

“Nam-su chilll..i’m sure she knows what’s best for her.” Thanos said looking at us, he seemed like he was high or something.. who knows, “Dude..It’s Nam-gyu, don’t embarrass me infront of the Huzz..” Nam- gyu spoke

You raised an eyebrow and ignored it, you looked over at the rest of the team, Se-mi and Min-su, Se- mi had a palm to her hand looking bored as Min-su was just looking around nervously

You looked back at the two other boys, “So.. Señorita..what’s your name huh?” thanos called out leaning on the stairs

“Uh..y/n” you said fidgeting with your sleeve a bit, Thanos hummed and nodded “Pretty name for a pretty girl eh? right bro?” Nam-gyu said laughing and nudging Thanos, Thanos nodded and laughed a bit

You watched awkwardly as you laughed nervously but stopped not knowing what to do, they begin laughing even harder at something else, you got even more awkward scooting away a bit.

Time passed and it was time to vote, since you were player 427 you were the last one to vote out of all of them, you watched one by one, As se-mi voted she picked ‘X’ which made you bright up a bit.

As soon as your number was called you slowly walked over to the buttons looking around nervously, you looked at Se-mi who stared at you for a bit and looked back at thanos and nam gyu who were just smirking a bit

Finally you clicked on ‘X’ and quickly went to Se-mi.

“What a fucking bitch..” Nam gyu muttered, “Nah it’s alright, she’ll get what’s coming” Thanos said as he danced around a bit, Nam gyu looked at him with confusion but quickly realized what he meant and chuckled.

It was near lights out and you had went to the bathroom, and you were washing your hands, the door opened as you looked up and quickly widen your eyes at the two familiar figures, you quickly turned around trying to leave but thanos placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Hold onnn.. we’re not mad at you” Thanos said as you panicked, “Yea even tho you fucking betrayed us but whatever.” Nam gyu said as he grabbed your shoulder, “S-so if your not mad than.. w-what do you want..?” you said in fear, it was until Thanos slightly pushed you into a stall, “We just wanna have fun with you for a bit” Thanos said smirking, he pushed you onto the toilet seat.

Nam gyu looked around real quick before entering, he quickly walked into the stall and closed it locking it, he quickly faced you basically ripping off your jacket, you didn’t refuse or anything.

Once your jacket was off, Nam gyu shoved you up, and immediately shoved off both of your pants and panties roughly making you gasp, he quickly rubbed your pussy for a bit and stopped as he took off his own pants and boxers

“Have you ever took it up the ass pretty girl?” Thanos asked suddenly as Nam-gyu sat down on the toilet seat, “h-huh?!” you quickly said, “Have you ever had someone fuck you in the ass?” thanos stated again boldly, “What? no.. why would i-..” you said as you realized why he asked you that

“Well there’s a first time for anything.” Nam gyu said as grabbed on your hips, “Wait! I’ve never done this before!” you quickly said, “Chill..it’s just gonna hurt for a minute” Nam-gyu stated as he slightly spread you asscheeks a bit and had you sit over his cock for a minute, he grabbed his cock feeling your tight hole for a moment, without hesitation he quickly slammed your hips down making you scream a bit as thanos covered your mouth “Shh.. be gentle man.” Thanos said to Nam-gyu as he scoffed.

Nam gyu kept you there for a minute, you felt just a small sting of pain as it slowly went away “Does it still hurt?” Nam-gyu asked, at least he’s being a BIT gentle.., you shaked your head, he smirked as he started thrusting up, feeling your tight hole stretched out. you moaned a bit loudly on thanos hand.

Thanos than pulled down his pants and boxers as well and started jerking off to the sight of you and nam-gyu a bit, after a minute or two he grabbed your legs spreading them open in the air, he chuckled as he lined up his tip against your pussy. He than slowly bucked his hips towards a loud groan coming from him as you moaned from thanos and nam gyu still thrusting up into you.

Loud slapping sounds filled the stall as thanos was more vocal than Nam-gyu, thanos groaned quite loudly as he thrusted into your pussy hard and rough

Nam-gyu was way less vocal but you could still hear hard breathing from him as he fumbled with tits a bit thru your shirt while thrusting into your tight hole.

The knot in your stomach was starting to form realizing you were close to your orgasm, “Mm~!! m’gonna cum! augh~!” you moaned out loudly, Nam-gyu cock twitched as he groaned out a bit throwing his head back. Thanos was still fucking you hard and rough not slowing down at all.

After a bit you cummed on thanos cock as you moaned out loudly, Thanos didn’t care as he kept thrusting, Nam gyu groaned out loudly as he cummed into your hole. “Fuck..” he whispered as he stopped thrusting up and stayed there for a moment, Thanos kept going as he went even faster to cum as well, you kept moaning loudly “Fuck- i’m almost there holy shit!” thanos growled out as he gripped on your ankles, your eyes rolled back at the overstimulation, finally Thanos cummed inside you as he quickly pulled out his cock landing on your clit as his cum covered your clit a bit, he rubbed his tip against your clit for a moment and stopped once his cum stopped.

Thanos chuckled as he backed up. “Get this slut off me already.” Nam gyu said panting “C’mon get up princess” Thanos said grabbing you and pulling you up, Nam gyu slid his pants back on and walked out the stall without hesitation. “Don’t mind him.. he’s always like that” thanos said laughing. You didn’t say anything as you quickly put on your pants as well, thanos followed along and gave walked away turning back a blowing a kiss to you than laughing and leaving. What assholes.

#squid game #squid game smut #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game s2 #nam gyu #choi su bong #nam gyu smut #nam gyu x reader #choi su bong smut #choi su bong x reader #thanos squid game #player 230 smut #player 230 x reader #player 230 #nam gyu squid game #player 124 smut #player 124 x reader #player 124

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bi-writes · 6 months ago

Note

I imagine that Johnny's "uncle" instincts are so strong that he would do anything for the MOB and Simon's kids, it doesn't matter that "the kids" are cats. Also i think Simon would have a talk with MOB (and Soap) along the lines "if something happens to me he is the person who would take care of you". ~ i spend to much time daydreaming about this fic

mail-order bride

johnny watches with a careful eye as simon disassembles his rifle. he's methodical about it, very careful. he has a clear desk in front of him, and every piece that comes out has a place on the surface, a special spot that it must go.

"ye called fer me, LT?" johnny asks, knocking on the door gently. simon nods, not looking up from where he's sitting. he motions to the chair in front of the desk, and johnny takes a seat, hooking his thumbs into his tact vest and spreading his legs as he sits there. "what do ye need?"

"'ave somethin' ta say," simon mutters. "'n i'm gonna say it, and y'r gonna keep quiet and not interrupt me. and when i finish, ya aren't gonna say anythin' about it. and we aren't gonna talk about it ever again. say ya understand me, sergeant."

johnny swallows, shuffling in his seat before nodding.

"aye," he says lowly. "roger tha'."

simon sniffs, picking up the barrel and using a microfiber cloth to rub it clean. he leans back in his chair, not meeting johnny's eyes.

"tha' last op got me thinkin'," simon mutters. "thinkin' a lot." he sighs, deep from his chest. "wot would happen to my girls. if somethin' were to happen to me."

johnny purses his lips, his palms getting a little clammy. but he doesn't speak, because he's been ordered not to.

"and if tha' happens," simon continues. "i don't want anyone else lookin' after them except for you, johnny."

their eyes meet finally, and johnny swallows hard. it's a long gaze, and they hold each other there for a few moments to get an understanding of one another, to speak without speaking.

johnny stands, shaking his head. it's hard for him to believe that simon could die. he's unkillable. he's ghost. he's a man too capable of staying alive, too good at crawling out of early graves, that he doesn't understand truly what it is he's seeing in his lieutenant right now.

the thing in his eyes, he's just never seen it before. it's fear.

"simon."

your greeting as he steps through the front door immediately makes his shoulders relax. you're in the living room in nothing but one of his old shirts, standing there with a big smile on your face. his eyes rake down your body, over your bare legs and socked feet. your smile is bright and contagious, and he drops his bag off as you come closer to him. as always, your hands find the hem of his skull mask and slip it up and over your head, and you giggle when he blushes as you look over his face.

"you're so handsome," you whisper, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you lean up on your toes and kiss him warmly, smoothing your hands up his big arms and wrapping them around his neck. simon can't help himself; he slides his hands down your back and slips them up the hem of the shirt you wear, cupping your ass in both gloved hands and squeezing hard. you laugh into the kiss, pulling away slowly, meeting his eyes. he looks tired. he looks...sad. "simon...is everything okay?"

you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, smudging the eye-black there, and he just shrugs. he doesn't lie. it isn't okay, he isn't okay, and you kiss him again to say you're sorry, because you don't know if he would want to hear that.

"i, uhm...ordered a pizza," you say softly. "thought we could watch a really bad movie and eat gross."

simon smirks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"i'd like tha'."

as you're plating up greasy slices of pizza, simon passes a piece of paper to you. it's an index card with a phone number on it and an address. the address is far, really far, and you lick the sauce off your finger before looking up at him.

"what is this?" you ask, taking it from him.

"tha's johnny," simon murmurs. "if anythin' ever happens...if ya ever need me...'n i'm not 'ere--" you open your mouth to say something, but simon shushes you gently. "--if somethin' ever happens to me...you call johnny."

you purse your lips, meeting his eyes for just a second before looking back down at the card.

"nothing's gonna happen to you, simon--"

he cups your face in his hands, shaking his head. he's staring down at you, pleading, asking you to just do this for him, to just say yes, to not fight him on this one thing because he needs this.

you press the index card to your chest gently, nodding finally.

"yeah...okay..." you whisper. "i'll call him, simon. if something happens...i'll call him."

if something happens, if something happens, if something happens--

"simon," you whisper, grabbing his eyes again. he blinks, and you compose yourself when you see that glaze over his eyes, the slight shake of his bottom lip. you have never seen him this way. you have never seen him shake ever before. this was your husband. simon riley, made of nothing but dense rock and steel. but his thoughts are far away. his thoughts are somewhere else, seeing a scenario in his mind that you imagine may not be hard to think about, as if he's lived something like it himself.

the unknown. the despair. the aftermath.

the inevitable.

"simon."

your voice brings him back. he's back in the kitchen. he's back at home. he can hear the cats in the living room, the little bells on their collars ringing as they chase each other in little chaotic circles.

he's back with you. in his little bubble. he's praying to a god he doesn't believe in that it won't burst so easily.

"dont worry, simon. i'll...i promise i'll call."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #order up

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demonic0angel · 2 months ago

Note

DcxDp

Danny is living on the streets in Crime Alley the main issue is that he was deaged into a six year old by the GIW and had to run. The Fenton Parents were across the country at a ghost hunter's convention and Jazz was away at college. Danny's been on the streets for a few weeks now, his phone was broken during his escape meaning no contact with Sam and Tucker.

Red Hood had just finished a report on a joint case with the other bats concerning a drug ring trying to set up in Gotham and Crime Alley, when this tiny six year old with a white shock in his black hair and bright blue eyes and old bandages from multiple injuries popped out of a dumpster holding a pack of unopened hot dogs that were only a day passed the sell by date.

The two immediately make eye contact and Danny just slams the lid on the dumpster and wiggles intangibly out of a rusted out hole on the back of the dumpster and runs when his intangiblity flickers and fails as soon as he's out. Jason isn't exactly sure what he saw for a moment but when he realized what happened he's immediately on the search for his tiny doppelganger.

Jason snatched up the little kid. For a moment, he paused to think, ‘Am I seriously kidnapping a kid?’ before he recollected his thoughts and explained to himself, ‘Yes, because this kid needs help.’

The kid wriggled in his hands, frowning and pouting. He kicked his little legs as he cried out, "Kidnapper! Kidnapper! Help! Someone help!"

"Kid, where are your parents?" Jason asked. He held the struggling kid and brought him closer to his chest.

Something like an electric current from static buildup zapped between them. Jason flinched and the boy stilled.

Then he went quiet and sniffled, cuddling closer to Jason's chest plate, rubbing his chubby cheek against the bat-symbol there.

Jason awkwardly moved his face away from his taser and asked again, "Kid, where are your parents?"

"... gone," he mumbled. "My sista can't find me."

Jason gently patted his back, bringing him closer into a hug. The kid buried himself closer and Jason wondered if his initial fight was due to fear or something. "What's your name?"

"... Danny."

"Okay, Danny. Let's find your sister, okay? Want to come with me?"

Danny nodded silently and Jason resisted the urge to smile and coo. He was quite cute, with his pouty expression and teary eyes. Jason used his thumb to rub away at some dirt on his cheek before adjusting his hold on him.

"Alright, kiddo, what can you tell me about your sister?"

——

Danny stared at the strange, liminal man who was afflicted with ectoplasmic rot, as he went on a vague tangent about Jazz.

He was pretty sure that Jazz and his friends were already searching for him, since he had been gone for awhile now.

He was also pretty sure that if he gave up too much information, this man would've been able to find her too quickly, which prevented Danny from giving him the help that he needed.

Danny sighed.

Who knew that after he would be deaged, he'd have to adopt a grown man?

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #danny fenton #jazz fenton #anon ask #jason todd #ty for the ask!

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angelseraphines · 2 months ago

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ೃ⁀➷ sad girl ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! there is also a part one to this story, million dollar man! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ one week had passed since your boyfriend, sang-woo, reappeared in your life under strange circumstances that made your blood run cold. for two agonizing weeks, he had vanished without explanation. then, he returned, battered and hollow-eyed, his face bearing scars that seemed etched not only into his skin but into his very soul. he had come to your door clutching a bag of cash, his body trembling, his clothes soaked with sweat. “wait for me,” he had whispered, his voice hoarse and desperate. you promised you would, and so you did.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t stop replaying that moment in your mind, every detail a puzzle you couldn’t solve. had he been involved in something criminal? was he tangled in debts or worse? the thought that he might be ensnared in something far beyond your understanding consumed you. the sight of him, standing there, so broken and afraid, haunted you. you didn’t want to believe he was in danger, but deep down, you couldn’t dismiss the fear.

˚ ༘♡ then, this morning, a text came through on your phone. it was brief, offering no answers, only an instruction, “come to my house.” no explanation, no reassurance, merely a summoning. the clock had barely struck six, but you didn’t hesitate. sleep clung to you as you threw on the white, wool coat he had gifted you months ago for your three-month anniversary.

˚ ༘♡ the streets were quiet, the morning air biting at your skin as you made your way to his home. every breath a battle against the anxiety clawing at your chest. when you reached his door, it swung open almost immediately.

˚ ༘♡ before you could say a word, he pulled you inside, his movements quick, the door closing behind you with a soft click. the air inside was warm, contrasting the chill outside, but it did little to ease the tension in your body.

˚ ༘♡ “you’re here,” he murmured, his voice low, and then his lips kissed your cheek, cool and brief, a gesture that was both familiar and foreign. the touch left your skin tingling, not with comfort but with unease. his eyes lingered on you, their usual sharpness dulled by something you couldn’t place, something sinister.

˚ ༘♡ you stepped back from him, your voice trembling but firm. “you have to tell me everything right now,” you demanded, though the weight of your exhaustion seeped into every word. the fear you’d carried for weeks had worn you down, leaving sorrow in its wake. “i can’t keep living like this, with all the secrecy and half-truths. it’s killing me.”

˚ ༘♡ as you glanced around, you noticed his home looked different, emptier than you remembered. furniture was missing, and stacks of boxes lined the walls, their presence unnerving. your eyes narrowed as you turned back to him. “are you moving? why didn’t you tell me anything?” your voice cracked with disbelief. then, anger surged, and you shoved his chest, your frustration spilling over. “this has to stop! you can’t keep throwing money and gifts at me, thinking it’ll distract me from everything you’re hiding!”

˚ ༘♡ his posture stiffened, his muscles taut under the pressure of your words. his jaw clenched tightly, and for a moment, he looked away, as though searching for the right response. when he spoke, his voice was strained, his frustration cutting through. “if you would only give me a chance!” he snapped, the sharpness of his tone filling the room. his chest heaved and fell rapidly as he struggled to compose himself.

˚ ༘♡ letting out a slow, deep breath, he rubbed his temple, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled off his glasses. without them, his eyes looked more vulnerable, the walls he so carefully built around himself momentarily exposed. “why can’t you trust me?” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt. “why is it so hard for you to believe in me?”

˚ ༘♡ the scars on his face had faded slightly but still marred his handsome, angular features. your eyes lingered on them, the memories of his battered appearance resurfacing with a painful clarity. tears welled up, blurring your vision, and a tightness settled in your throat. “then tell me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth he was about to share. “it was business dealings,” he began, his tone measured, “not illegal, but high-risk. it was meant to be a way to increase my earnings, and it worked. it was highly profitable and lucrative in the fiscal aspect. it was presented as a secure business opportunity.”

˚ ༘♡ you narrowed your gaze, suspicion flaring. “how much money are you talking about?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated for a moment before meeting your eyes. “forty-five billion six hundred million won,” he said, his expression unreadable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in you throat, your mind struggling to process the sheer enormity of the figure. “what?” you managed to choke out, your disbelief evident. “sang-woo, that kind of money doesn’t come without strings attached. it can’t be clean.”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw tightened, and he looked at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “do you trust me enough to believe it is?”

˚ ༘♡ you faltered, the strength of his question bearing down on you. he wasn’t explaining, he was testing your loyalty, your ability to have faith in him despite the glaring inconsistencies. deep down, doubt clawed at you, but your love for him, flawed and reckless as it was, overpowered your reservations. “i trust you,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice. “i’m sorry for questioning you.”

˚ ༘♡ he nodded, the tension in his frame easing slightly, though his gaze remained guarded. “the investment fund ended a few weeks ago,” he continued, his tone darker now. “it got messy, very messy.” his bruised hand lifted, gesturing to the faint scars on his face. “this… was the price of my involvement.”

˚ ༘♡ the word lingered between you, heavy and suffocating. you stared at him, the weight of his choices crashing down on you like an unbearable tide. “why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “don’t you know I would have stood by you? no matter what?”

˚ ༘♡ his eyes darkened, and his voice rose intensely, startling you. “because I didn’t want to drag you into my problems!” he shouted, the force of his words filling the room and making you flinch. the reaction caught him off guard, his frustration fading as he noticed the fear on your pallid face. he let out a deep sigh, running his hand through his disheveled hair before pacing the length of the room. when he returned, his expression softened, and he cupped your face gently, his touch warm despite the tension. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m sorry.”

˚ ༘♡ you had hoped that hearing the truth would make things easier, that it would bring the clarity you craved. but instead, it felt as though the distance between you had grown wider. “sang-woo,” you said softly, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, “i don’t care what you’ve done or what happened. i only want to know that you’re safe, that we’ll be okay.” tears spilled freely down your pale cheeks, salty streaks marking the anguish you couldn’t hide.

˚ ༘♡ his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you in a way his words couldn’t. his hand moved slowly along your back, a comforting motion that was far different than the turmoil brewing within you. “everything will be fine,” he whispered, his tone firm yet almost pleading. “i promise, it’ll all be fine.”

˚ ༘♡ despite his reassurance, you couldn’t shake the pang of unease in your stomach. his words might have been meant to comfort, but they felt fragile, as though they could shatter under the strain of whatever truths still remained hidden.

˚ ༘♡ “i love you,” he murmured, his hand gently tilting your chin until your eyes met his. his gaze was steady, filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “i want to spend my life with you. to get married, have a family…”

˚ ༘♡ a shaky laugh escaped through your tears, a fragile moment of relief breaking through the tension. “alright,” you said softly, wiping at your damp cheeks. “let’s start with something simple. how about we go get something to eat?” your fingers brushed against his tired, weathered face, tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into his features. “you look like you haven’t had a decent meal in days,” you added with a small smile.

˚ ༘♡ sang woo’s lips curved upward, faint but genuine. “that sounds good,” he replied, his voice carrying a gentleness that was almost unfamiliar after everything.

a/n: i thought sang-woo wouldn’t tell his girlfriend about the squid game, with how concerned he is with maintaining a perfect reputation. let me know if you have any other requests! 🤍

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purinfelix · 4 months ago

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just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear

a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)

"You're actually insane."

"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"

You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.

"A fake relationship?"

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"

You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.

"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"

"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."

"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.

Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.

"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.

God fucking damnit.

It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.

You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.

"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"

You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"

His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."

Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.

"Firstly, no kissing."

"Understood."

"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."

"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"

You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.

"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."

"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."

"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."

You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.

There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.

Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.

Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.

"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.

"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.

"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."

"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."

"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."

When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"

He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."

"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.

"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"

"See you then."

The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.

The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.

But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.

"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.

"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."

"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."

You think for a little before answering, "You're right."

"Do you think there's a reason for that?"

"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."

"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."

There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.

"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.

"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."

"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."

"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."

"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."

He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.

"God, I'm so full."

"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"

"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.

"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.

"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."

"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"

"Wow, boring."

He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"

"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.

"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."

You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"

"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh we're not-"

"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."

You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.

"No, it's okay, I got this."

"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."

"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."

You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.

"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"

"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.

Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.

You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?

"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.

"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.

"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.

"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.

"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"

Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.

"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.

"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"

You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.

"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."

He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.

"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.

You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"Look, I can explain!"

You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.

"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."

You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.

"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."

"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.

There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."

"What?"

"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.

"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.

"What?" you're confused.

"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.

"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.

Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.

You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.

"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.

"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.

"Don't you?"

"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."

Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.

"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?

"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"

You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.

"Sure, what about?"

"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."

"Goodnight Franco."

"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.

However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.

You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.

"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.

"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.

"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.

"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.

Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.

"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.

Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.

You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.

"Better?"

"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."

"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."

You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.

"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.

"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.

You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."

He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."

"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.

"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"

He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.

"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"

You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.

"What?" he says, and your heart drops.

"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.

"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.

"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."

"When did you realise?"

"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.

But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.

"Wait you mean you-"

"I win!"

You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.

"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.

You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"

"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."

"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."

"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."

"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.

"Even when you proposed this to me?"

"Yep."

"Even when we went to get ice cream?"

"Yep."

"Even when you kissed me?"

"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.

"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."

You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"

"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.

"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.

"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."

You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."

Taglist : @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @cinderellawithashoe @vanicogh @taasgirl @claudiajacobs

@dripostsstuff @boiolay @earth-to-lottie @dejavuontrack @dudududu-fangirl

@kravitzwhore @gavisuntiedboot @reiofsuns2001 @musicmie @danielle12002x-blog

@alelo23 @corrodeddeadlydoll @aliwritex @nina-or-anna-or-nora

@5sospenguinqueen @araunahj @sbrn0905 @halleest @lottieliveslife

@lovestruck-sky @im-an-op81-fan @blubra @vienoiserieetc

(don't ask me why it's formatted so weird, tumblr hates me)

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one #purinfelix #jet writes ★

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gerlionrise · 2 months ago

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A Game Within the Game

001 x Reader Synopsis: In the deadly games where survival is the only rule, an unlikely bond forms between two players—one seemingly fragile and unassuming, the other strong-willed and determined. Amid the chaos, whispers of hidden alliances and unseen protections weave a tale of obsession, power, and unspoken truths. As danger looms at every corner, the line between trust and manipulation blurs, leaving one question: how far would someone go to protect what they desire by most?

This is Part 1. Part 2 is here

The eerie hum of the Squid Game facility never truly settled, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above as though mimicking the anxiety thrumming through the players. Every step, every breath was laced with uncertainty. But for you, there was one constant—a pair of watchful eyes.

From the moment the games began, 001 stood out to you. His demeanor was different. Calm, collected, and always one step ahead, he carried himself with an authority that no one else seemed to notice. You’d felt his presence everywhere: a steady hand during the chaos, a voice of reason amidst the panic, and a protector in ways that no one else dared to be.

---

The tension within the games had been escalating with each passing day. The players had grown desperate, alliances crumbling as the stakes rose higher. But for you, something felt different—subtler. A shadow loomed over you, not from the games themselves but from someone among the players.

It began with whispers, fleeting glances from one of the players—a wiry man with sharp eyes and an unsettling smirk. His demeanor toward you was always off, his gaze lingering just a moment too long, his words dripping with something unspoken.

“Watch yourself,” 001 had murmured to you the day before, his voice low and cautious as you stood in the corner of the dormitory.

“Why?” you asked, studying him carefully.

“There are those who see you as more than just competition,” he said. “They see you as a threat.” ---

The tension in the air was palpable as the next game was announced. It was another test of trust, pairing players to navigate a labyrinth filled with hidden traps. Your partner, the same wiry man with shifty eyes, seemed eager, but his energy felt wrong—too forceful, too deliberate.

“You and me,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll make it to the end, no question.”

You had no choice but to trust him, though his enthusiasm put you on edge. The guards herded everyone into the maze, their cold, impassive stares sending shivers down your spine.

As the game began, your partner took the lead, moving erratically, almost as if he wanted you to falter.

“Watch your step,” he snapped as you hesitated.

The words seemed like concern, but his tone carried an edge, sharp enough to make you wary.

---

From the sidelines, 001 observed the scene with practiced calm. His eyes missed nothing. Every misstep, every sideways glance from your partner, was noted. He had suspected the man’s intentions from the start. He played a dirty game.

Without drawing attention, he shifted closer to the masked guards stationed nearby. Despite the façade he wore as an ordinary player, his authority in the games was absolute. A single, subtle nod was all it took for the guards to spring into action. ---

The labyrinth echoed with shouts as the alarms blared unexpectedly. A voice over the intercom declared an emergency pause in the game.

“Return to the dormitory immediately,” the voice ordered.

Confusion rippled through the players as they were escorted out of the maze. Your partner clung to his facade, but his eyes darted nervously toward the guards.

Once the players were safely back in the dormitory, the guards surrounded him. Without ceremony, they hauled him to his knees, ignoring his protests.

“I didn’t do anything! You’re making a mistake!” he shouted, his voice cracking with fear.

His words fell on deaf ears. The guards dragged him away, and though no explanation was given, the tension in the room eased slightly once he was gone.

---

Later that night, you sat on your bunk, replaying the day’s events. Something about your partner’s behavior had felt wrong from the beginning, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had intervened on your behalf.

Across the room, 001 sat quietly, his hands resting on his knees as he gazed into the distance. His presence was steady, calming, but something about the way he looked at you made your pulse quicken.

“You handled yourself well today,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

Your gaze snapped to his, startled by the unexpected compliment. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t let fear control you,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s rare in a place like this.”

Something in his tone felt weighted, as though he knew far more than he let on. But before you could question him further, he leaned back, closing his eyes as if to rest.

---

Over the next few days, you began to notice strange things. The guards seemed to linger near you more often, their silent presence a shield against unseen threats. During meals, your food was always served first, untouched and pristine. In the games, traps that should have been deadly seemed to miss you entirely.

You weren’t the only one who noticed. Whispers circulated among the players, theories forming about why you seemed untouchable. Some believed it was luck, others thought it was favoritism. But no one dared to confront you directly. --- One evening, as the dormitory settled into uneasy quiet, you found yourself beside 001 once more. He was playing with a few marbles, rolling them between his fingers with an absentminded ease.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence.

The question caught you off guard. “I’m not sure,” you admitted cautiously. “Why?”

His gaze met yours, piercing and unrelenting. “Because some things happen for a reason, whether we see it or not. Like you being here, alive.”

There was something unspoken in his words, a quiet confession buried beneath layers of ambiguity. But before you could unravel it, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Be careful,” he murmured. “Not everyone in this place has your best interests at heart.”

---

You didn’t know it, but 001’s orders had ensured your survival at every turn. The guards, bound to his silent commands, moved with precision, eliminating threats before they could touch you.

To the other players, he was nothing more than just another man trying to get money, harmless and unassuming. But to you, his presence became a constant comfort, a silent promise that, no matter what, you would not face this nightmare alone.

And though you couldn’t see the web of protection he wove around you, you felt its effects in every subtle glance, every unexpected reprieve. In the chaos of the games, his obsession became your salvation. If you have any requests - let me know!

#squid game #001 #player 001 #001 x reader #front man #frontman x reader #001 x 456 #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader

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certaimromance · 5 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 Cradle Song.

Spencer Reid x Pregnant!reader

Summary: The situation is complicated when Spencer is trapped in a lab with anthrax and worried about communicating with you and his future child one last time.

Words: 2,4k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of death, therapy. spoilers for s4 e24 ("amplification"). anthrax. established relationship. angst with a open ending. implication that the baby is a girl. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I wrote this after posting my first two one shots here (several months ago), and now I just found the uncorrected text and decided to improve it for posting lol for you to mentally decide if it's a happy or sad ending, because I could never write one that I really liked.

Your phone rang somewhere in the room, but you had no idea where. In the distance, you could hear the classical symphony by Johannes Brahms that your boyfriend had chosen especially for you, with the excuse that it would calm you and the baby every time it played.

Unfortunately, this time it wasn't helping to calm you down.

After tossing and turning around the room several times, you sat up in bed, completely exhausted and hopeless. That's when you felt the noise nearby and realized that the phone under your pillow was vibrating nonstop. You were about to snort with stress from being so distracted lately, but an automatic smile appeared on your face when you saw that it was a call from Spencer. You hadn't heard from him in several hours, the last being his usual call to wish you a good morning every time he was away on a case.

“I think I'd lose my head if I didn't have it attached to my neck.” Was the first thing you said as you tried to tuck your pillow behind your neck to make yourself more comfortable.

“You've lost your phone again.” You heard him let out a small, weak laugh, followed by a cough that caught your attention and made you frown. “Sorry, I got stuck.” He quickly excused himself.

“Are you okay?”

In response to your question, he looked around the lab where he was confined, focusing on the broken vial of anthrax on the floor that had caused all his problems so far. Reid didn't know how to explain that an ordinary case had turned into a national problem that was taking over his life and future moments with you with every passing second.

And he certainly knew even less how to tell you that this would probably be the last time you would hear from him if the team didn't find a cure soon.

“I'm fine.” He lied immediately, feeling his breathing getting harder and harder. “Really, love.” He tried to reassure you, but he lost his balance and leaned heavily on the counter, his free hand gripping it hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

All you had to do was hear him call you that and your whole world would light up, you could even feel the baby in your belly kicking at the sound of his voice. You smiled as you realized that you were both happy to hear from Spencer after not seeing him for most of the day due to the demands of his job.

Although you've never said it out loud for fear of making him feel guilty, you miss him excessively, and you're always trying to multitask and be productive, so you don't think as much about how much you need him by your side. Especially when dinner time comes and his seat next to you is empty, or when night comes and his side of the bed is cold.

Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones, but you seemed to have a stronger need for him than ever.

“And how did you feel today? How are my girls? Did she kick a lot today?” The usual questions he asked you every time he was on a long case began to appear. “I need to hear everything.”

“She just kicks a lot when she listens to you and you know it.” You replied, stroking your belly out of laziness. “She’s definitely a daddy's little princess.”

The lump in his throat and all of his fears became more intense and uncontrollable. The tears he had tried to keep from escaping to stay strong and focused began to flow unchecked down his cheeks. Hearing you talk like that, knowing it might be the last time, was killing him much faster than the anthrax itself.

“And what are you doing? All your agent stuff?” You spoke again at his silence, trying to ignore the bad feeling something was giving you. “Are you coming home soon?”

“I don't think that's possible, love.” He replied quickly, his voice hoarse and raspy, the lie slipping from his lips almost too easily. “I'm doing some paperwork, it'll take some time.”

It was the second time he had called you by that nickname in just a few minutes. Something seemed a little off, as he only used it when he wanted to calm you down. You knew him too well to miss it.

“Oh, okay.” You said it in a way that showed you were a little disappointed.

Spencer was about to try to comfort you when he suddenly felt the cough return to his throat and he put a hand over his mouth to stop it. It was no use, the cough shook his whole body, spinning him around and making him pant in between. He tried to cover the phone with his hand so that the sounds coming out of his mouth would not be heard, but it was useless. The hacking cough seemed to tear at his lungs, leaving him breathless, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, and he could only hope you didn't hear it, because the last thing he wanted to do was worry you. He knew it would hurt you and the baby.

“Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should drink some water. It sounds pretty bad.”

He tried to answer you right away, but the cough took over and prevented him from speaking. He gripped the phone tightly, struggling to breathe, trying to force his lungs to stop spasming. And when he finally stopped coughing, he managed to speak, his voice cracking and rather hoarse.

“Yes, I'm fine. It's probably just a cold.” He lied again, breathing shakily. “But it’s nothing so bad.”

“Take care of yourself, don't let it get worse.”

If only you knew that there was no way to make it worse, that it was already at its worst point and unlikely to improve.

“I will, don't worry.” He tries to sound convincing, but his voice comes out rough and raw, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coughing again. “Just focus on you and the baby, okay? I'll be fine.”

He spoke again so quickly that it was difficult to think of an appropriate response.

“Could you do something for me, love?”

“Of course, I'll do whatever you need.” You reply, feeling a little perplexed by the urgency in his voice.

There was a long, awkward silence after you answered, and you could feel your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. You had a feeling that Spencer was holding something back from you, and the thought of what it could be made your left leg start to twitch nervously. You didn't even bother trying to make yourself more comfortable in bed.

“Go to my part of the closet, to the top drawer. Open it and take out a box next to the socks.” Finally he spoke and began to give you instructions, which you followed as best you could. “Let me know when you have it, carefully. Don't rush or-”

“I've already got it.” You interjected.

“That was quick.” You heard the surprise in his voice as you looked at the box, curious to know what was inside, after having seen it several times and thinking it was just more socks.

You smiled before speaking again. “What should I do with this, love?”

The mere word coming out of your mouth made him tremble.

Love. Love. Love.

He was your love and you were his. He refused to accept that this would be completely shattered in a matter of minutes if he could not find a way to keep his eyes open and his heart still pumping blood.

“I need you to open it, but be careful. Take your time and don't rush. Don't make any sudden movements.” He said, trying to relax so that when he spoke again his voice would be calmer, softer. “And once you open it, I want you to imagine that I'm there with you, okay?”

You couldn't help but open the box quickly, even though you were careful. You were surprised to find a bunch of envelopes and papers inside. You left them on the bed, wondering what they were about. It had been five months since you knew you were pregnant, and all the envelopes and papers were the same age according to the dates in the top corner.

“Have you seen it yet?” Spencer asked.

“I'm sorry, I don't understand, could you explain what this is?” You asked, carefully running your hand through the neatly organized papers on the bed.

“Could you close your eyes and imagine I'm with you, like I told you before?” He asked, trying to keep a neutral tone as you complied with his request.

He needed you to see him there with you, he needed to say goodbye and at least touch you one last time.

“That's what I'm doing. I'm holding your hand right now.” You said with a small smile, feeling the warmth.

It was like feeling an automatic medicine with your name on it flow through his system and relieve a few aches and pains. His hands stopped shaking automatically as he imagined himself holding yours again.

“Okay…they are notes and letters.” His voice was soft, the intensity of his heartbeat gradually increasing as he remembered each time he wrote those words to you. “I started writing them when we found out you were pregnant. They're for our baby.”

He still remembered the day he found out you were expecting a baby, his baby. He recalled how he felt his whole world stop and turn a different color, his hand sliding down to your stomach, and his breath hitching in his chest as he held your face in his hands and kissed you lovingly, overwhelmed with joy and so in love that he hadn't known what to do with his own feelings.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I...I found myself writing frequently and my therapist said it was fine…I was inspired to write about my feelings for you and our baby."

From the moment he revealed to you that he had resumed therapy with the goal of healing the wounds of childhood and becoming the father he never had, it was clear that his dedication surpassed any commitment. Now you just added to the list of reasons why he was already an exemplary father, one that any child would be lucky to have.

“Spencer, this is so sweet.” You said, completely moved and on the verge of tears, as you noticed all the dedication I had put into each and every piece of paper. “Why didn't you tell me this before?”

He felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on him at that moment. It was so hard to explain, to tell you that every thought and every dream he'd ever had included you and the baby now growing in your belly, and his great fear of not being able to be there for you someday.

“I-” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I just wanted you to know now how much you mean to me and how blessed I am that you gave this to me. I've spent the last few months trying to even talk to some kind of God, and I don't even know if exist...” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, the words lost somewhere in his throat, making it burn and hurt. “I just...I need the baby to know what you and her mean to me, how I see you, how I feel when I wake up next to you. What I want, what I dream for her, what...”

I want to marry you.

The thought almost escaped his lips, his aching heart pounding hard against his aching chest. He felt as if a pair of strong hands were strangling him.

“I don't understand...Tell me what's going on.” You interrupted him with a shaking voice, knowing that there was definitely something more to all of this.

Oh, how you know him and his big, messy, troubled brain.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, though you couldn't see it, knowing that you already read him like an open book.

“Nothing...Nothing's wrong, love, just...” He tried to breathe deeply through the phone, his heart pounding in his chest and his mind racing too fast. “I love you so much. Don't forget that, okay?”

“Spencer—”

He always loved your voice calling his name, and now, in his weak, tired, fearful state, he couldn't stop the words from pouring out of his mouth.

“I want you to know that you'll be okay, that she'll be okay, that everything will be okay, and that I love you. I love you both very much. Please, please...” He kept going. He knew he was babbling, but he couldn't stop. His mind was racing, and his words came out like a confession.

He was an expert profiler, a genius with an eidetic memory and a sharp mind, but at that moment, with his body weakened and his head spinning, he found himself unable to contain himself. He was exposed, open, and experiencing discomfort. All of the things he wanted to tell you, all of the questions he wanted to ask, and all of the concerns, worries, and thoughts in his mind came pouring out, like a dam breaking. He sensed that you could feel it through the line, and he realized that he could no longer deny it any longer.

“I love you. I have to go now.”

“Wait.”

You had a feeling something wasn't quite right, and those letters seemed to confirm your suspicions. They were a precautionary measure, a way of ensuring that everything would be taken care of in case something happened to him.

“I have to go, I'm...I'm busy, love.” He tried to sound convincing, and he knew he was failing miserably, but if he stayed a moment longer, he would continue to talk and confess more. “I love you both.”

“We love you too.”

If he wasn't already weak and trembling, hearing your voice telling him that you loved him, in that soft tone, would have made him fall to the floor again. He closed his eyes again and leaned against the wall, his own trembling hand going to cover his mouth so he wouldn't say more, because he would tell you everything if you kept talking in that sweet tone.

He wasn't ready to say goodbye.

So it was that he thought of you and your kind way of loving him before he felt his head hit the floor and his eyes close.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #matthew gray gubler

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pellucid-constellations · 4 days ago

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I Have A Feeling You Got Everything You Wanted

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Falling in love with Azriel had never been in the cards. Falling in love with anyone other than the husband your father appointed to you had always been a far-fetched notion. And that was a truth you had lived by. 10 years ago.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Yearning, pining, all that is longing and angst and exes to lovers <3

a/n: Guys I adored writing this so I hope you love it!! Inspired by 'We Hug Now' by Sydney Rose. I so so appreciate hearing what you think. Thank you for reading!!

Read the continuation of Warren's story here

Main Masterlist ♡

You fiddled with the ring on your finger, passing it over your knuckle and twisting it back down.

Your stomach hurt, pain and nausea mingling with such severity you feared you would be sick. The thought was comical, in a way. The company at the table would be so concerned over their dresses and the obscenely expensive tablecloth that you could probably sneak away. But that would still be a feat considering the heavy palm resting on your thigh.

Warren was a nice man. He fulfilled his duties as the man you were to marry with dutiful purpose. He learned your favorite foods, how you liked your tea in the morning, and the shops you frequented. He touched you kindly, respectfully, and he was always nice to your friends. He was nice. But you were not in love with him.

In Warren’s defense, you were never going to be in love with him. Your father had decided that you should be, however, so you were promised to him from a young age. That was typical of the high fae with your family’s rank, and you had evaded that duty for some time now. Your father had given into your whims for several years, allowing you to “galavant around”, as he would say, acting as the Winter Court’s emissary until Warren’s family grew impatient.

Your return to Winter had been met with immediate wedding planning. You had been called upon for floral arrangements and the menu and to finalize the color scheme. Warren had done his best to quell his incessant mother’s demands, but the wedding was a court affair and everyone was thrilled.

Well, most were.

Before you had stepped foot in the Night Court ten years ago, you had been indifferent about the wedding. Sure, it wasn’t optimal to have to marry a man you knew so little about, but it had been an expectation since your birth. Warren may not have been your choice, but he was certainly not the worst choice when compared to the other eligible bachelors in the pool. You had left to act as emissary with a gentle begrudging that cared little for the future.

You had returned with so much indescribable longing that you had trouble speaking to others.

Every decision you made was accompanied by an inundating weight that threatened to crush you. You chose daisies for the aisle and you thought of him. You wore that ridiculous wedding dress with the high neck and drapey sleeves and you remembered how he used to touch you. You sat at this dinner, celebrating the joining of two families, and you reminisced on how it felt to sit with him, with his family, and to feel that you belonged somewhere.

The urge to be sick persisted as your future mother-in-law hoisted her glass in the air, bubbles losing weight and flying up to the rim.

It was cruel—all the mundane things that reminded you of him.

“To my son,” Warren’s mother toasted, white furs puffing around her cheeks. “And his new bride-to-be. We are overjoyed that the long-awaited day meets us!”

You gritted through your smile, raising your glass to your lips. The edge hit your teeth and the sound of the impact vibrated your brain.

“Oops,” you giggled, the splattering of fae wine against cobblestone suddenly hilarious. “Who did that?”

“I believe you are the only one in this alleyway, my love.” Azriel’s smooth voice sent a pleasant warmth up your spine.

You whirled around, night air kissing your bare shoulders. It felt electric when accompanied by Azriel’s adoring smile—addicting.

“You followed me,” you mused, curling your glass into your chest and stepping closer to the Shadowsinger.

Azriel met your steps without pause. “Of course I did.” You smiled at him, light and airy. He brought soft fingers up to brush along your face as he asked, “Are you alright?”

“More than alright,” you were quick to reply. “Just needed some air. It gets so hot in there.”

He hummed, eyes tracing over your features. “Want to go home?”

“I feel that Mor would be angry with me.”

“She would only be angry for a day. Buy her those shoes she was eyeing.”

“And why should I choose to go home with you?”

Azriel pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss. He moved back, only an inch, and whispered, “Come with me and you’ll find out.”

“That reminds me of when Warren climbed that icy tree in the courtyard. Oh, what a silly child he was!” A boisterous aunt clapped her hands as she shouted, snapping you out of the memory with a small jump.

Your chest ached as you breathed out a laugh and rejoined the table.

Beside you, Warren chuckled, his hand brushing lightly near your knee. “Please, do not bring up anything I’ve done before the age of twenty,” he pleaded. His eyes shone their pretty blues. His hair looked enticingly soft. “I don’t need y/n to have those images in her mind.”

He turned slightly, flashing you a small smile that spelled marital secrets and private conversations through eyes.

Where you should have felt the lightness of new love elating you, buzzing at your skin, you felt the increasing urge to cry. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t cry. You hadn’t cried since the night you left him.

“I’m sure it would only make you that much more endearing,” you teased, swallowing hard when Warren took your words as an opening to dive into a tale of the past.

He didn’t deserve this, in all honesty.

Warren was a nice man.

But Azriel—

“You are so beautiful.”

“You’re supposed to be watching, Az,” you admonished, tucking your face into his arm to hide the heat on your face.

“I am watching,” he argued. He leaned down, your back pressed to his chest, and kissed the skin above your ear.

“Not me. The stars,” you clarified.

You tilted your head slightly, meeting the crook of his elbow where it rounded your shoulders. He kissed you again and again, mapping out the top of your head with the delicate pecks. You laughed and that only egged him on. He turned you and pressed you back until your spine met the railing of the balcony, and then he was kissing your cheeks and your temple—the bridge of your nose and your brow.

“Azriel,” you tried again, but his smile was against your skin and he wasn’t listening. “You’re missing Starfall!”

“I can see it next year,” he murmured against you.

“And you can kiss me whenever you want.”

He paused, pulling back to catch your eyes. You smiled, confused at the serious moment in the otherwise light mood. He had no response to your confusion, only leaning back in to brush his nose against yours.

Maybe he had known.

You had foolishly thought this all to be avoidable, figuring your father would understand that you had found happiness. That he would have cared and given up on this unwanted marriage.

He hadn’t.

“Isn’t that right?”

You blinked, turning to your fiance with a haze in your eyes.

You hadn’t been listening.

The cake on your plate was becoming stale, its untouched state starkly contrasted with the empty glass of champagne to the left. You pulled your lips into a line, searching Warren’s encouraging eyes as he tried to help you. It didn’t work; you had no idea where the conversation was left.

“I’m sorry,” you bluntly stated, voice turned up into the posh tone your father had ingrained in you. You turned to address the table. “I seem to have been lost in my head. I didn’t sleep very well last night. Catch me up?”

Warren gave your knee a fond squeeze before removing his hand to place it on the back of your chair. He leaned down slightly, his voice lowering as he offered a gentle excuse for you. She has been so incredibly busy, he offered warmly, she’ll be even busier when the wedding is over.

You felt as if you were underwater. Your face lit up with another asinine smile and it was difficult to breathe. Not because you weren’t used to this setting—not because Warren was a bad man. This was supposed to be your life. This was what you were supposed to be doing.

There had never been any indication of a different path.

“I love you.”

You whipped your head to the side, abandoning the sketchbook in your lap as your charcoal rolled into the seat cushions.

“What?”

Azriel smiled. He leaned over the pillow separating you, tucking your knees further into your chest as he closed the space on the loveseat. “I said I love you,” he repeated, breath fanning over your lips. “I’ve told you before, but you haven’t heard me.”

You let out an incredulous huff of laughter, your gaze bouncing between both of his eyes. “When? I don’t remember that.”

“At the Sidra yesterday. Last week at the shops. Three days ago when you fell asleep on me.”

“No, you didn’t! I would have remembered.”

Azriel tucked your hair behind your ear and left his hand resting on your cheek. “You are often oblivious to your surroundings, my love. Especially when something is interesting in front of you like fish or jewels.”

You scoffed. “Not true. My father made sure I was very observant. My tutor would smack the back of my neck any time I got distracted.”

Azriel tutted, disapproval darkening his eyes as he brushed his scarred hand to cup the back of your neck. He shifted on the loveseat so you were sat on his lap, his other hand finding a home on the side of your thighs.

“That is cruel,” Azriel remarked. “Being distracted is in your nature. I don’t know if there is a time you are not distracted.”

“There are many interesting things to look at,” you mused, humming as his fingers inched up your scalp.

“I’m sure.” A pause. Azriel had the gall to look unsure. “You do not have to love me back.”

Your posture stiffened, the words leaving you before you could consider them. “I love you, Azriel. I love you, too.”

He seemed to slump against you at that, tension you didn’t know was there leaving his body. He offered you a warm smile and then kissed you—and kissed you and kissed you.

It had seemed like there was another path.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Warren announced to the table. A musician had begun to play the harp in the corner of the restaurant. “My bride and I have much to discuss tonight so we must retire. Please, continue to enjoy the night.”

Confused and disoriented, you took his gloved hand in yours and said goodbye to the correct people. You weren’t supposed to be the first to leave. This was your rehearsal dinner.

Warren guided you into the winding hall, his grip soft and reassuring. You attempted not to trip on your dress as you went, your head throbbing with an invisible pain that seemed to linger these months back in Winter.

It had been months without seeing him.

You were getting married the next day.

It would be final then.

The first step outside the restaurant was both invigorating and unpleasant, the cold air assaulting your senses. It did the job of snapping you out of your thoughts, but then you were left standing in the snow before Warren, and that was a similar form of torture.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he prompted, tugging your cloak over your shoulders. You had missed him grabbing it from the coat check. “You’ve been off since you returned but it’s worse tonight.”

Warren had known you peripherally before you left for the Night Court. You were to be married, so he made it a point to at least meet you before you were gone. He had not known you would be gone for years, but neither had you. The last time you spoke to Warren before you had met Azriel, a wilted salad sat between him and your father, the pair discussing politics and import prices.

Warren would not have known something was wrong, he hardly knew you, but he did anyway. Because he had made it a point to be a good husband.

That’s what made this even more tortuous.

Maybe, if he were terrible, it would be easy.

Your chin wobbled for a moment of breath. You’d pass it off as a chill.

“Nothing is wrong,” you smiled, cheeks already stiff from the cold. “I didn’t sleep well. That’s all.”

Warren closed his eyes, breath a white puff before him. “Don’t lie.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!”

Azriel tugged his hand through his hair. His face was flushed, feet taking him in a disorganized line around the room. “You are engaged.”

“Not by choice. I don’t know him, not really. I could tell my father—”

“You would be shunned—cut off. I know how noble families are, y/n.”

The use of your name struck you, a stark contrast to the soft, endearing terms Azriel so loved to use around you. You flinched unconsciously, eyes darting around his room to find some sort of explanation for this.

“I don’t care about any of that,” you urged. You remained rooted in the doorway, unable to move. “I’d stay here. I wouldn’t go back.”

“You would leave your family? Your… fiancé?” Azriel spit out the last word. The crumbled missive crinkled in your hand as you clutched it tighter.

“I would do anything to be with you.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t make this my decision.”

The paper fell from your fingers. You brought your palm to your chest, ignoring the harshness of his tone. “No, I know. This isn’t—this is my choice, Azriel. I want to stay here. To be with you.”

“I can’t be the reason you abandon your family. Your responsibilities. You—You lied, y/n. You never told me about any of this,” Azriel bit out, hands curled into fists.

“I’m sorry! I wanted to—I did—but I was so afraid you would be angry. And then I fell in love with you and—”

Azriel held his hand up, abruptly stopping your teary explanation. His chest visibility heaved. “You should go.”

“What?”

“Answer your father. Tell him you’ll comply with the date.”

Tears wet your cheeks, the silence following his demand pressing them down in heavy streaks. He stared back at you and he looked so angry, his eyes a calculated cold. He had never looked at you like that.

“You’re hurt,” you spoke, voice a mess of tears. “You don’t mean that.”

He only shook his head slightly. “I do.”

“Azriel, I love you. I was promised to marry him when I was born. I don’t—”

The muscle in his jaw feathered, effectively silencing you. His shadows were going haywire, half of them wrapped around their master, protecting him, the other half twining around your chest. Did they know you were in pain? Did they know your chest wouldn’t move?

“Okay,” you relented. More tears fell when Azriel only gave you a hard stare. “Okay, I—I’m sorry, Azriel. I love you—”

You choked on a sob when he turned around, apparently unable to watch as you broke down.

And that's what made this the most torturous of all; you could leave Warren—maybe—and Azriel still wouldn’t want you back.

You decided you wouldn’t lie to Warren just as you didn’t to Azriel.

“I fell in love.”

Warren nodded, barely blinking at your admission. “In Night?”

Your brow furrowed. “Yes, but—you aren’t angry?”

“I couldn’t expect you to tie yourself to me. You didn’t know me when we were engaged and I didn’t do the best job at getting to know you when we came of age.”

“I left.”

“To meet your soulmate, it seems.”

“We had no mating bond.”

Warren’s mouth ticked up at the corner. He adjusted the collar of your cloak and dusted the snow from your shoulder. “A mating bond is not always the answer.”

Faelight from the post beside the restaurant gleamed off the bronze hues in Warren’s hair. He leaned back, hands encasing your upper arms. “I’ve missed my chance then.”

Something soft fractured inside of you—because he was right. Warren could be all things kind and loving and he wouldn’t be Azriel. No one would be.

“I’m sorry,” you softly spoke. “I never meant—”

“Don’t apologize. Go to him.”

Your lips parted. “Warren, I couldn’t. We’re to be married tomorrow. I wouldn’t do that to you. And our families would be enraged.”

“I’m hardly concerned about our families. As much as I would have enjoyed marrying you—and I would have, please do not get that misconstrued—there are several noble ladies my mother has lined up and already ready, I’m sure. And as for your family… to be honest, y/n, you came back from Night brighter than I remember you. It seems you have another family waiting for you.”

It all sounded wonderful—wonderful and so, so easy. You’d have Warren as an ally and you could return to the people you’d called home for so many years. You’d feel at home. The loss of your homeland would sting, but it was a worthy sacrifice.

But then you remembered the anger and hurt in Azriel’s eyes, and this was no longer easy.

The light extinguished from your eyes, shoulders deflating in Warren’s hold. “I can’t. He was so angry with me.”

“When?”

You met the blues of his eyes, chest hollow. “He found out about our engagement the night before I returned. He told me to go. He was—Warren, he wouldn’t want me back.”

Warren clicked his tongue. “I can guarantee that he’s kicking himself over that. He didn’t mean it. Imagine you learned he was engaged after so many years together. That can’t have been easy.”

“I know,” you mumbled, ashamed.

“But—” he continued “—if he loves you, he would have regretted that the moment you left. Go back to him. Speak with him. If he turns you away we can still be married in the morning.”

“You would still marry me?” you deadpanned, brow raised in amusement.

“It’s either you or the girl my mother surely has on standby.”

You scoffed out a laugh and pushed at his chest. He grabbed his sweater in mock pain, a charming smile playing on his face.

Despite the task that awaited you, you felt lighter. You let out a resolute sigh before saying, “You’re going to be a wonderful husband, Warren.”

He looked up at you from where he had bent his neck, peeking out from below his lashes. “Just not to you?” he asked.

“Not to me,” you affirmed.

The air in the Night Court felt different—shimmering, somehow, although that may have been chalked up to the anxiety coursing through your veins. The crystalline silk dress still adorning your frame stood out against the dark hues of the court.

It had been a feat to get up to the house. After winnowing into the outskirts of Velaris, you had prayed Mor was home to the tune of several knocks on her door. She was—thankfully—and seemingly more than happy to see you. She had rushed through a tale of how terrible Azriel was doing without you that quickly morphed into a lecture about how pissed she was that you left without a proper farewell.

You had apologized, and she had sent for someone with wings.

Cassian appeared next, rattling off much of the same as Mor only with more shouting and less snapping. After several apologies, Cassian brought you up to the House and then promptly left to the opposite side of the House.

And so, you were left alone with an insurmountable task.

The halls of the House were painfully familiar, each step a reminder of the life you once thought to be forever. You passed your room—only used for the first few months before you made a home in Azriel’s—several sitting rooms, the kitchen; Azriel’s door was closed.

You hadn’t knocked on it in years.

You sucked in a breath, allowing it to fill your chest and then your stomach, and then you knocked. And knocked again.

“I told you to leave it, Cassian,” came Azriel’s reply. “I don’t wish to talk about it.”

His voice was rough and thick. You knocked again, listening close to the wood for the sound of footfall or movement. You only heard Azriel’s bed shift.

You knocked again.

No answer.

Well, if you were going to do this it wasn’t going to be halfway.

You turned the knob, the metal cold and reassuring under your palm. You had done that before.

Azriel’s room was much of the same. Some things were missing; paintings on the wall had been removed, the side of the bed you typically slept on looked all but bare, his curtains had been changed.

Your gaze went out before it went in, and when it went in, you saw him. Hunched over on the side of his bed, Azriel sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His fingers were threaded through his hair, his room almost unseeably dark. He didn’t look up when you entered.

“I want to be left alone,” he grunted out. He sniffed. “Tell me after she’s married and only then.”

He knew you were getting married tomorrow. He had kept track.

Obviously, that had been a possibility, but you had expected more avoidance. He was angry with you—at you. He couldn’t even look at you when you left, hadn’t told you he loved you as you packed your things and vanished. It would have made sense if he resented you. If he stayed away from all things that involved you.

“I am not getting married.”

His head snapped up at a vicious speed, hands falling into his lap just as quickly. His shadows, once in a clump at his feet, exclaimed in the air before cautiously edging towards you. He took you in, eyes roving over your figure in a panic. You caught the reflection on his cheekbones in the small amount of light filtering past his curtains. His eyes were swollen, his face gaunt.

His voice cracked as it formed the sounds of your name.

Nerves caught up with you. You closed the door behind you and stayed rooted in the same spot you had left him in, feet creating an indent by the wall. You played with your fingers at your waist.

“Um, hello,” you greeted, clearing your throat. It hurt to look at him, you realized. You tore your eyes from his ruined expression to gaze down at your hands. “I realize you told me to leave. And I did—I had every intention of following my father’s requests as you told me to do. But—um. Warren could tell something was off. I was trying my best, I swear I was, but it was hard to fall back into that role after spending so much time here. After being comfortable here. With you.”

You chewed at your cheek for a moment. A bad habit you had picked up in the months back in Winter. Azriel’s bed creaked. He’d stood up.

He was going to leave. You needed to get this out, quickly.

“I know you’re angry and I’m so sorry, Azriel. I had foolishly thought I could avoid the fate my father had set out if I just ignored it. If I just lived out my life here with you. I thought it would all go away so I never told you about Warren and—”

“Please,” Azriel interrupted. “Stop saying his name.”

You could feel his presence. Now directly in front of you, his shadows became more comfortable and had taken to sliding along your skin. Azriel stepped forward until you could hear his breath, but you refused to look up. You couldn’t.

You apologized instead. “I just came back because… I just wanted you to know that you have become my family. You had said that I was making a choice between you and my family, but that’s not true. I feel at home here. And you can tell me to leave again. You can and I’ll—”

“Look at me.”

You sucked in a breath, picking at the skin of your palm.

Azriel placed his thumb and forefinger on your chin, tilting your face up to his. The first touch of his skin against yours had warmth blooming in your gut, but it was quickly replaced with a tight ball of anxiety when his eyes met yours.

“Gods, I’ve missed your eyes,” he all but sighed. You backed up a step until your back met his door. He followed. “Is it my turn to talk?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded.

“Letting you leave—speaking to you like that—has been my greatest regret,” he began, the gravelly nature of his voice conveying more than his words ever could. His lashes were damp as they fanned against his cheeks.

“I didn’t tell you the truth. You had every right—”

Azriel pressed his thumb to your bottom lip and trained his eyes on the skin he displaced. He winced with a slight shake of his head. “I’m talking, my love.”

He continued. “I did not have the right. I was hurt, you were correct, but I wasn’t listening. It was unfair of me to react that way. I wanted you to come back the moment you left.”

“Then why didn’t you come get me?” you whispered.

“I thought you had everything you wanted. I figured—y/n, I have never been the best option. I’m a killer. I have hang-ups. I wanted you to have a way out.”

“I didn’t want a way out,” you stressed, gripping Azriel’s wrist. He had moved his hand back to cup your jaw. “I wanted you. I didn’t care about any of that. I was willing to throw away my entire life in Winter to stay.”

“I know.”

“And then you told me to leave.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair.”

Azriel let out a tortured breath. His shoulders sagged and his forehead met yours, even though he didn’t ask, even though you weren’t sure who was mad at who anymore. You kept your eyes open as his closed, watching his face twist.

“Wanted?”

You drew back. “What?”

Azriel’s eyes opened. “You said wanted. That you wanted me. That you were willing to stay.”

You could only stare at him.

“Does that mean… is this irreparable?”

“Why do you think I’m here, Azriel?” A broken, defeated smile donned your face. “I don’t think we could ever be irreparable. I don’t think I’d have the strength to keep that up.”

He was kissing you, a hurried press of his lips against yours, and his sticky cheeks became wet once more as they brushed against yours. His hands found the back of your head, your waist, pulling you in closer. His wings came around to keep you in place—unnecessary. You weren’t going to leave.

He pressed harder still, barely enough air between you to breathe. He took the small amount that was there, whispering apologies and declarations against your lips.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Azriel.”

“Please don’t marry him.”

“I won’t.”

“I love you. So much.”

You kissed him more, softer, and he let you set the pace. At some point, his feet had guided you to the plush surface of his bed, positioning you at the head without ever breaking from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said again—a kiss to your jaw, one along your temple. “I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. Showing you how much I love you.”

“It’s okay, Azriel. I’m sorry too—”

“Don’t. Please. I played out you returning to me so many times in my head. You never apologized in them. You have no reason to.”

You threaded your fingers through the hair on his nape, eyes cast softly up as he hovered above you. “I could have been more open.”

“I’ve thought about that. I—I was foolish to think you’d want that future. You are nothing like the woman they have forced you into the mold of.”

A small smile. “So you’ve noticed?”

Azriel only kissed you once more before a seriousness cast over his face. “Were you… treated well?”

“Treated well?”

“I believe his name is Warren.”

You fought back a laugh at the way he mumbled the words. “You’re worried he was cruel?”

“Among other things. I know how noblemen can behave.”

“And when did you begin to worry about that.”

“From the moment you said his name was Warren.”

You did laugh that time, shifting on the bed until Azriel laid on his back. You rested along his side, palm flat on his chest. Like a moth to a flame, Azriel’s wings captured you in their own hold. “Warren would have made a good husband. He is a kind man—doting, even.” Azriel tensed beneath you, but you only smoothed your fingers down the plane of his chest. “But I didn’t love him. Maybe I could have tried, before I met you. But not after.”

Azriel rested his hand atop yours, squeezing your fingers. “I will thank him then. For caring for you when I did not.”

You looked at him softly, removing your hand to brush stray hairs from his forehead. “He told me to go to you. I was at my rehearsal dinner. I think if I had opened my mouth I would have said your name.”

He responded with a hand rubbing circles into your back. You laid your head on his chest. “Things will be different now. I can’t go home for a while.”

“You are home,” he replied. “Things may be different, but I will never be different. Not when it comes to you.”

Read the continuation of Warren's story here

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

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5sospenguinqueen · 7 months ago

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Little League Karting | George Russell x Reader

Summary: Fighting against Lando's big mouth and fans' speculations, George and Yn somehow managed to keep a special moment hidden from the private eye.

Requested: Yes by anon

Warnings: Pregnancy. Swearing, Fluff. Suggestive comments

2023 season. Pinterest pics

F1 Masterlist

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yn_ln just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, alex_albon and others

yn_ln happy anniversary, georgie. here’s to 5 years together. i can’t wait to have at least 50 more with you

2,992 comments

georgerussell63 happy anniversary, my darling. i’d spend forever with you on that beach

alex_albon still can’t believe he went on holiday without me

→ landonorris he stopped loving us 5 years ago

→ georgerussell63 you know you’re always in my heart

→ yn_ln and this is why @/lilymhe and i are running away together

→ georgerussell63 but, i thought you loved me

user1 another day, another shirtless george pic

mercedesamgf1 the cutest grid couple

→ landonorris actually that would be me and carlos

→ danielricciardo no it’s me and max

→ yn_ln stop stealing my moment

charlesleclerc @/georgerussell63 as director of the gpda, i would like you to hear my complaint against your girlfriend posting shirtless pics of you. it has blinded me, thus hindering my ability to drive on sunday

→ yn_ln maybe if you looked at the track more than yourself in the mirror, you would see better

→ charlesleclerc now i’m complaining that she’s hurted my feelings

pierregasly it wouldn’t be a photo dump without shirtless george

user2 so no ring?

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yn_ln just posted

liked by mercedesamgf1, roscoelovescoco and others

yn_ln my weekend boys

3,850 comments

user3 who’s your favourite

→ yn_ln bono and roscoe

→ georgerussell63 whoa now. i’ll remember this energy when you want me to stroke your back as you fall asleep

→ mercedesamgf1 toto said he would like to talk to you on thursday

→ yn_ln the boss man knows he has a special place in my heart?

→ mercedesamgf1 the question mark makes that doubtful - toto

lilymhe okay but the fit is serving

→ yn_ln had to squeeze myself into those jeans. think i need to stop sneaking a macca’s when george isn’t around

→ lilymhe so long as we can keep our cheeky waffle sundays

→ yn_ln always ;)

→ georgerussell63 excuse me

landonorris fake caption, alex and i aren’t here

→ danielricciardo i think you’ll find i’m her favourite

→ yn_ln my favourite doesn’t race anymore :(

→ georgerussell63 sweetheart, kimi hasn’t raced for over a year

mercedesamgf1 lewis isn’t happy that you chose the photo that makes him look small

→ yn_ln i haven’t yet mastered photoshop. please pass my condolences to lewis for showing him his actual height

user4 my favourite thing about yn’s race weekend posts is seeing how hot she looks in her race day fits

→ user5 yes because she spends fri and sat in Mercedes merch and then SERVES on sundays

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formula1 have added a new YouTube video

user6 not them still being referred to as 2019 rookies like it’s not their 5th year on the grid

user7 did anyone catch what alex said at the end that made george and lando laugh?

→ user8 no i swear it was edited so we couldn’t hear

user9 did you guys see the way alex and george looked at each other? they know something!

→ user10 and the way lando giggled after like he’d done something wrong

user11 not george trying to save himself by saying she’s always in his heart

→ user12 if i was yn, i’d be messaging him saying i caught the ick

→ user13 no because even george looked weirded out after saying it

→ user14 lando and alex immediately taking the piss out of him

→ user15 didn’t he say that to alex and lando once?

user16 lando definitely said something he wasn’t supposed to

→ user17 the fear in george and alex’s eyes before they tried to play it off

→ user18 and we can all tell that little league line was bullshit he made up on the spot

user20 okay so we’re all thinking that one of the grid are having a baby right?

→ user21 the only question is who?

user22 but aside from his brief blunder, the way george spoke about yn in this

→ user23 honestly my goal in life is to have a love like theirs

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yn_ln just posted

liked by carlossainz55, lewishamilton and others

yn_ln don’t mind me, just showing off my extensive hoodie collection

3,002 comments

user1 everyone relax, she’s alive

user2 girl, you can’t vanish for 3 months and then show up just to post hoodies?

user3 i love yn but i cannot pretend that this is acceptable. she abandoned us for months and no apology

user4 no babe, we need you back in the paddock serving face and body

landonorris oi, i’ve given you like five and you can’t be bothered- the audacity

danielricciardo DR3 dominance, baby!

carlossainz55 smooth operator

user5 love that she posts a lewis one, not a george one

→ user6 i find it odd. she hasn’t posted him in a while and he’s not liked the post

→ user7 she only posted it 5 hours ago, give the man time

→ user8 but he’s usually always first and no comment?

charlesleclerc wait, i didn’t realise you were taking options from other drivers. can i add to the collection?

→ yn_ln only if it has ‘just an incident’ on it

maxverstappen1 i’ve got one with giant pockets so you can put all your snacks in it

→ yn_ln ladies and gentleman we have a winner!

→ alex_albon i can’t believe he won

→ yn_ln yeah well he tempted me with pickles and peanut butter

→ oscarpiastri together?

→ yn_ln is that a judging tone!

→ oscarpiastri no! please don’t cry again

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user9 um why is this hashtag trending. let’s not speak this into existence

user10 okay some of you calling us crazy but george and yn are one of the more public couples and now we get nothing?

→ user11 i need an interviewer to ask him about her because the way his eyes light up when he talks about her can’t lie to us

→ user12 yes! if the eyes are sad then we know they’re over

albonooo lily asked me to tell you to stop licking the screen

→ lightningmclerc oh so THOSE hormones have kicked in

→ letsgolando they never left, how do you think she ended up in this situation

→ ynoncrack i am not a horndog!

→ princessgeorge well…

chili55 please don’t have another child if this is what we have to deal with

→ ynoncrack have i really been that bad 🥺 george said i haven’t been that hormonal

→ kiksgomes what is wrong with you, carlos! we just got her to stop crying

→ princessgeorge oh no, what’s up, honey?

→ golflils she was upset because your curls looked amazing and she couldn't run her hands through them

→ ynoncrack oh my god, i am a horndog!

letsgolando all i’m saying, baby russell better be mega adorable after all this

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georgerussell63 and yn_ln just posted

liked by alex_albon, landonorris and others

georgerussel63 baby russell was born happy and healthy two weeks ago. whilst we settle into life as new parents, please enjoy some baby bump pictures to tide you over

10,499 comments

alex_albon i’m so happy for the two of you and can’t wait to meet mini russell

→ lilymhe you’re just glad yn won’t be crying on facetime anymore

→ alex_albon that too

user1 okay but the hand placement wow

→ user2 we all know how they ended up here then lol

lewishamilton much love to the new parents ❤️

user3 oh so the complete opposite of a breakup then

user4 hang on a second. so not only was yn pregnant but they've had the baby? parents for real?

user5 how did gossip girl george russell keep this from us

→ user6 especially when he saw us all theorising his breakup

→ georgerussell63 trust me, it was hard

→ yn_ln he wrote a bunch of tweets defending us on a fake account

charles_leclerc congratulations george and yn. i cannot wait to meet the little one

→ alexandrasaintmleux he's already had a bunch of baby ferrari onesies made

→ alex_albon over my dead body will my godbaby wear those!

williamsracing congratulations. what happy news

→ mercedesamgf1 you can’t have him back

→ yn_ln neither of you can have him over the next month. he’s all mine and bean’s

francisca.cgomes free my girl! those boobs belong to me

→ yn_ln always

→ georgerussell63 @/pierregasly please come get your girl. she's trying to steal mine

→ pierregasly she’s right though. you don’t need to be groping her like that on main

→ georgerussell63 oh no one asked you, “tripod”

landonorris oh, thank god. took you long enough to tell the world he was here. keeping it to myself these past few months was giving me wrinkles

→ user7 they’ve had a boy!!!

→ landonorris crap

→ alex_albon well done mate

→ landonorris but i did so well!

→ user8 omg so it was george and yn who were expecting when lando made up that bullshit about little league karting

→ landonorris hey! i want to see their kid in a go kart so it wasn’t a total lie

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Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @leclercsluvs (you mentioned wanting to read this on an ask WEEKS ago and it's taken me forever to write it so i am so sorry!)

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