#like could you imagine a series like this

[st7rnioioss]

omg i'm so obsessed with your chris x inexperienced reader series 🙂‍↕️ hate to fill your askbox (i imagine you have lots to do !!) but could you please consider chris wanting inexperienced reader to sit on his face? even though she's shy and scared/embarrassed to do that, chris just wants to devour her

۶ৎ BSF!CHRIS x INEXPERIENCED!READER

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... smut, oral (f receiving), kissing

“no- no, i promise it won’t hurt me. you just gotta trust me, alright?” chris had a smirk on his lips, though his tone was somewhat soothing, along with his thumbs drawing mindless circles on your inner thighs, his larger palms running up and across the soft skin beneath his own.

you nervously stare at him, your mind running in all directions. chris had asked if you could sit on his face, and you were scared shitless he would suffocate or something along the lines of it.

chris offered you a tiny smile when you nodded and cleared your throat. “o-okay.. but seriously, if you can’t breathe or something, push me o-“

“sweetheart, relax. i won’t suffocate.. you worry too much about me,” he chuckled, reaching up to cradle your face in his hand, pulling you closer for a soft kiss.

he suddenly moves you off his lap, a soft yelp escaping his lips when doing so, before he settles to rest on his back. carefully, he wraps his hands around your thighs, lifting you closer and closer to his face.

slowly and deliberately, he places kisses up the inside of your thighs, leaving a glistening mark. his expression curls up into an almost smug smirk when he spots the wet patch on your panties, laughing to himself.

“oh, baby.. i think you like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dark and quiet when you settled close to his lips, his warm breath fanning across your inner thighs.

it was pathetic. maybe you did like this, more than you’d like to admit, hence the fact you were clenching around absolutely nothing.

“m-maybe.. a little,” your voice was slightly whiny, the words fading out at the end when chris’s hands guided you closer until your soaked core was hovering directly on top of him.

his fingers snook to your inner thighs, his digit hooked under the bridge of your already damp panties, almost admiring your glistening folds right above him.

“shit.. such a pretty pussy for such a pretty girl..” he husked, pushing the wet fabric to the side to allow the pad of his thumb to brush across your swollen clit, down your wet folds to spread apart.

“f-fuck, chris.. i don’t know- you don’t think i’m too heavy?” your skin was already buzzing, and he had hardly even started yet, one hand holding you up, while the other reached for his hair for some sort of stability.

he shook his head with a gentle smirk, looking up at you to catch your eyes. “you won’t, baby.. you worry too much,”

by now, he’d told you enough times throughout the whole day that it wouldn’t hurt either of you that you convinced yourself it wouldn’t be too bad. he had done this before, just not in this position. so why not give it a try?

with a hesitant nod, chris didn’t waste another second wrapping his arms around your thighs to actually reach your sensitive mess. suddenly, and with a yelp from your swollen lips, he thumps you down carefully, immediately attaching his lips to your bud.

your jaw goes slack, both of your hands instinctively going to entangle into his dark locks, an almost desperate moan falling from your parted lips, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“o-oh my god,” you knew that no matter what, chris could work absolutely wonders with his mouth on your body. but this? this was beyond anything he’d done, anything he’d suggested.

chris could feel you were still holding back, and he knew you were too shy to even let a fragment of your weight on top of him—but he didn’t mind.

with his tongue running over your clit, he pulled you closer to him, and you gradually allowed yourself to put some weight on him.

chris didn’t want to push you further just get, so he continued to let his muscle lap at your folds, occasionally skimming your sensitive pearl. his eyes were stuck shut for the most part, though he stole a couple of glances at your fucked out expression here and there, eliciting whimpers and groans from him that went straight through your core.

“fuck, chris- that’s.. k-keep going,” your words came out as a moan, allowing more weight to rest on top of him when tongue swirled around your nub.

he felt a sense of pride bottle up inside of him, wanting this to nothing less than make you feel like you were on cloud nine, to send you into absolute bliss—which it did.

slowly, he lowered you further down, and you were way too lost in the pleasure to even notice you were fully sitting there, besides the ache in your thighs.

chris’s own head was spinning, your taste on his tongue leading him down a path that he was sure he’d never turn around from, his fingertips digging into the plush skin of your thighs.

“mmpph- please don’t stop,” you squeaked, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to not let the pathetically loud moan that were threatening to slip, fall from your lips. your eyes batted shut, your eyelashes fluttering against your skin.

oh, he didn’t plan on stopping. chris was savoring every second of it, fucking you slowly with his tongue, testing the waters. a sheen of sweat was beaded across your lower back and forehead, a warm pool starting to spread in your lower stomach.

the new change allowed your swollen bud to brush against his nose, your legs attempting to close around his head and your lip slipping from your teeth, wailing on a moan. you could practically feel his saliva mix with your wet mess, coating his lips and chin when he traced and ghosted his tongue over your hole.

“f-fuck! chris, i’m close, please-“

your grip on his hair drove him wild, driving him to fuck you rapidly and lightly with his tongue. one of his larger hands ran up the inside of your thighs, until his thumb met your clit, flattening his tongue over your folds to taste your sweet mess.

“chris, i’m gonna cum-“ your voice was weak, only coming out as a quiet yelp, moans of his name continuing to fall freely from your parted lips.

your cunt was leaking, your hips jerking forward when the circles on your clit sped up. it felt like all your muscles were tightening, a fire running down your spine while the heat spread under your skin.

the tension snapped in your lower tummy when you were pushed over the edge, a strangled moan of his name flowing from your slacked jaw. he let out a weak groan when your release coated his tongue, his eyes pinched shut as if he never wanted to leave this position ever again.

“chris- holy fuck..” you were panting by now, your chest heaving when he continued to glide his muscle from your drooling hole, up to ghost over your bud. broken whimpers of his name fell from your mouth, trying to warn him.

"y'taste so good.. like a fuckin' drug.." chris managed to groan between your legs, his words sending vibrations up your core, his fingers leaving marks on your skin.

your thighs were close to trembling around his head, carefully tugging on his hair as a way of telling him you couldn't take anymore, which he thankfully caught onto.

with a final lap at your leaking folds and a soft kiss to your clit, he gently lifted you from his face, your body buzzing from head to toe when you settled on his hips like before, looking down at his flushed face and glistening lips.

wiping the mix of his own spit and your release off his chin, he smiled up at you, "you don't think you liked that? just a little bit?". his tone was teasing, the smile curling up into a smirk.

"stop, chris.." you shyly giggled, playfully dodging his hand away from your cheek when he reached to cradle your face, a soft, pink hue taking over the soft skin of your cheeks. to say you liked it was a complete understatement.

more bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader here!

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: thank u so much anon!!:3 i hope i got her embarrassment across without making it the whole plot lol. and it's ok!! thank u all so much for the absolute love on this au, it makes me giggle so bad.

۶ৎ taglist 1: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @sierrraaaaxz @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @unknvhx @chrisslut04 @sturniolossss @slvtf0rchr1s @blahbel668 @starkeysturniolo @miolos @user1smvtysturniolo @lizzyzzn @sturnslutz @decimatedxdreams @chrissturnioloswife88 @sturn777 @sturniolonationsblog @frankoceanfanpage @priscillaog @courta13 @sweetrelieef @loverboysturn @sturns-mermaid @cutseylady @sofieeeeex @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @mattsturnii @conspiracy-ash

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[canthelpit0]

Dacryphilia

[prev. Unreleased from kinktober 2024]

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Wordcount: 3.6K+

Summary: 4 times Chris gets aroused at your crying, and 1 time he does something about it. (Sort of?)

Warnings: smut, fantasizing, crying, sweet!chris, refer has a naval piercing, porn with a lot of plot, voice kink, praise kink

A/N: bear in mind, this is old. It was originally for the kinktober series but since I gave up on that…. Anyway. This was written 12.05.2024, so it’s just been sitting in my drafts for a while.

00.

You and chris met at a party. It was just a month after Chris had moved to LA with his brothers.

You were both influencers and had collabed a few times before.

01.

The first time it happened Chris didn’t think anything of it.

Your boyfriend, who you had been dating for over a year had cheated on you.

Chris had met the guy once, and as soon as he had he hadn’t liked him.

Tho who was he to tell you he didn’t like your boyfriend, when you’ve been dating him for literally longer than you’ve known chris.

When you found out that your dear boyfriend was cheating on you, the first thing you did after breaking up with him and screaming, telling him to never talk to you again, was drive to the triplets house.

You wanted to see your best friends.

Even tho you’ve only known them for a few months they were one of the only genuine people in LA

You were crying in nicks arms, hysterically sobbing, and all Nick could do is be glad that you didn’t crash your car on the way here.

Matt, who’d been in the kitchen came to the living room faster than Chris.

And while Matt and Nick were doing a fine job calming you down, trying to get you to explain what happened without hyperventilating, as soon as Chris was there all the work was out of the window.

As soon as you spotted Chris at the top of the stairs and now in the living room, you ran over to him and hugged him.

He hugged you back letting you bury your face in the corner of his neck and sob into his shirt.

Chris felt a wave of dread and sadness wash over him. That was until he gently pulled your face out of his chest and looked at you.

Your eyes red and puffy. You had tear streaks running down your red-tinted cheeks. Your lips were red and puffy. You had that adorable yet sexy pout on your lips. Your eyebrows were low. your eyes narrowed in sadness.

You had no right to look that hot right now.

Chris wanted to comfort you, but he couldn’t help but scan your features again.

Your mascara being waterproof only fell in black tiny little clumps. A bit of it smeared at the corner of one of your eyes lower lashes.

Chris hadn’t really ever seen a woman cry. He’s never dated anyone, so he’s just never made a woman cry. At least not that he knew of.

He tilts his head at you as if examining your face even more. You think you’re imagining it when you see his pupils dilate. You blink up at him.

The way he’s staring at you seems so outlandish that it makes you curious. Curious enough to make you momentarily forget about your sorrow.

Chris blinks seeing that your tears stopped. Seeing that you weren’t sobbing anymore. After a slight pause he snaps out of it.

Having sexual thoughts was one thing.

But having sexual thoughts about his best friend who was crying was a whole Nother thing.

In the end you started crying again while explaining what had happened.

02.

Chris was borderline scared of himself for thinking like that.

Well not really scared, but he was weirded out by himself.

You weren’t one to cry easily.

Yet today had been a horrible day.

You originally wanted to edit your newest video, just to have the revolution that the audio hadn’t picked up and that the entire 30 minutes of footage was useless.

You let go of it easily, simply sighing and letting it go.

You then decided to make yourself an iced coffee like you used to in 2020 for old times sake. The infamous whipped coffee.

When you started to use the frother on your mixture of instead coffee, sugar and hot water, you somehow managed to let the glass down out of your hands.

It landed on the floor with a loud crash and you jumped at the impact.

It wasn’t fun having to clean that up and the bottom of your pink satin pajama pants were slightly stained now.

But you sucked it up and reluctantly cleaned up.

You went to change and get ready for the day, you wore a cute button down you’d just gotten.

You walk out of your bedroom to the living room and have a mini heart attack thinking you lost your phone. Until you realized that it’s probably still in your bedroom, since you thought you took it with you.

Being clumsy as you are tho, while walking back into your bedroom you walk straight into the door handle. The door handle catches on your button down and rips off a button.

You groan. You end up searching for that damn button for too fucking long. You put the button on your desk already taking the top off to sow the button back later.

Then you remembered you were searching for your phone. So you searched every corner of your bedroom while still not wearing a top.

You decide it’s a problem for later and find yourself a new top that fits with your flared jeans.

These jeans were a little tight on you, but that meant that it just showed off your curves great. That was until you tripped on a stray sock.

You fell in a weird way. Your hands instinctively flying out to catch your body, wich caused you to twist your wrist.

With the pain in your wrist you hadn’t even heard the loud rip of your jeans.

You groan turning around to sit up. You instinctively cross your legs and hold your arm with your other arm. You sigh heavily letting your head fall forward.

When you open your eyes tho you notice a patch of skin peaking through your jeans. You pause pulling your arms out the way.

Your jeans had ripped along the seam on your inner thigh. You scoff, beyond done with today.

All you want to do at this point is go to bed and sleep, but after the iced coffee thing you’d texted Nick that you’d be coming over and you didn’t want to stand him up.

So you get up and take the jeans off once again changing your entire outfit. Then you have another mini heart attack and search for your phone.

After a while you give up and decide to go back to the living room, Your kitchen being open to the living room.

You suddenly hear the telltale sound of an iPhone notification. You look around only to see your phone blowing up on the counter of your kitchen.

After that everything goes smoothly. Well except for you consistently bumping into things.

You don’t know what’s up with you today, normally you’re not clumsy or prone to accidents at all.

Now you’re at the sturniolos house sitting in the couch. Nick had gone upstairs to change for some reason, and Matt and Chris had been in their rooms all day.

You feel thirsty and get up. You just have to go to the kitchen to get a drink, it’s not that hard-

You stub your toe. On the fucking couch table. You’d been overthinking so much, that you didn’t pay attention.

But instead of scoffing and playing it off like you have been all day you actually let out a cry at that.

It was like that was the last straw and the floodgates snap.

Chris who’d been on his way upstairs to get a Pepsi sees this unfold. He sees the way you double over in pain and start crying.

His immediate instinct is to rush up to you and ingulf you in a hug.

You weren’t really crying because you stubbed your fucking toe, you were crying because you suddenly felt every single bruise on your body that you had gained today from just bumping into shit.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed with the feelings you’d been pushing back all day.

“Sh, sh You’re okay.” Chris whispers sweetly. He lowers you both to the ground.

You sit on your legs your hand in his. It still hurt from when you fell on it earlier, you just felt it even more right now.

You let out a pathetic sob. You can’t help but look up at the ceiling trying to compose yourself.

Chris watches you with awe. He couldn’t help it. And he really felt confused of why he thought you were hot like this. A crying and sobbing mess on the floor.

Sure you were attractive, but why did he find this sight particularly arousing?

All he wanted to do was to cradle your face into the crook of his neck and whisper sweet nothings to you. And that’s just what he did.

He wanted to care for you, to soothe you and to make you calm down. He wanted to see your big glossy eyes right after you finally stopped crying.

03.

It was the week before your period. Your lower back was aching, it felt like a bunch of needles were being stabbed through you over and over.

You were feeling all emotional like you usually do the few days before your period.

The triplets were at your house once again.

They’d just invited themselves in with nicks spare key before you had woken up. You woke up just to see the three lounging in your living room and eating your snacks.

You didn’t even bat an eye at it.

You simply walk to your kitchen getting stuff for a toast ready.

Once you’re finished with preparing and making your food, you sigh. You lean against the counter plate in hand and take a bite of your warm toast feeling the cheese melt on your tongue.

Suddenly you hear Chris gasp. You look over, wich wasn’t hard since your kitchen is open to the living room.

You watch the way Chris jumps up from his seat on the couch and then proceeds to fumble around with something.

You just raise an eyebrow but keep eating your toast while it’s still warm.

You watch Chris walk around the kitchen island to you.

Chris holds out a small white paper bag. You put your plate on the counter and clap your hands together to get any and all crumbs off of them.

You swallow the food in your mouth “For me?” He nods simply.

You tenderly take the paper bag from his hands. It somehow looks fancy. You raise an eyebrow after peering into the paper bag.

You take out a small box. You slowly place the paper bag on the counter not bothering to take your eyes off of the small white box in your hands.

“Open it” he urges. Chris looks like he is about to jump out of his shoes. He’s practically radiating energy. He looks so excited.

Your eyes momentarily lock on Chris’. This was probably some jewelry, but what kind. Had he gotten you a ring, you’ve been needing some new ones in your collections. Or ear rings or-

Before you can think about it too much you’re already opening the box.

You’re greeted with the sight of jewelry for your belly button piercing. It’s cute silver jewelry with a Viviane Westwood chain dangling off of it.

Your eyes start to Involuntarily water.

You love Viviane Westwood. You had some cute earring, and when you had talked about wanting to buy the matching necklace Chris had given you his.

“When I saw this I thought of you” he explains rubbing the back of his neck slightly. He was mildly embarrassed. But it was a cute gesture.

You gently put the box on the counter next to the other stuff. You were aware that Viviane Westwood probably didn’t sell belly button rings, wich only means he’d probally gotten it off of Etsy or something.

Even tho you knew it was probably just stainless steel and not actual silver, it was the gesture, the idea that counts.

You look up at him with your teary eyes.

You wanted to damn your sappiness to hell right now, but that was probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, or at the very least that was the only thing you could think of.

You knew you probably looked like a mess. Your hair being messy, no make up on, your bottom lip quivering as you hold in tears. You were always an emotional train wreck a few days before your period starts.

“Thank you so much” you croak out.

Your vision is too blurred to notice but Chris is giving you that look again. He looks fond.

With a swift move, you wrap your arms around Chris’ neck and hug him. Out of instinct his hands go to your waist.

He sighs. “That’s so sweet” you let out under your breaths a chocked out sob following after.

You feel Chris’ arms wrap around your waist to pull you even closer.

He’d accepted it, he liked seeing you cry. Obviously he didn’t like seeing you sad, but he thought you were cute. You always were, even sobbing with mascara running down your face.

But seeing you cry out of happiness because of such a small gesture, a small gift Chris got you… that was a whole other high for him.

04.

Chris decided on a random Tuesday morning that he had nothing good to do. He felt incredibly bored.

So he decided to google random things that come to his mind.

Whether it be learning more about fish types going down the rabbit hole of the internet and what not.

He always googles random things he thought about to find out more about it so he could maybe talk about it in a car video or something.

Suddenly he thought about you and the few times he’s seen you crying.

He thought about it more, and it became apparent that he thought that crying was hot.

He googled his thoughts out in multiple diffrent ways. And at the end, the watered down version was “why do I find crying hot?”

He continued to lay in his bed semi intreated in what google had to say.

the first thing that popped up was a Wikipedia page with some title he couldn’t even pronounce.

So he continues scrolling trying to find the meaning of said word without having to klick on the link because he was too lazy to.

Dacryphilia (also known as dacrylagnia) is a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing

He reads out in his head. “Huh?” Was literally all that went through his mind after reading that.

And the follow up question was “what the fuck is a paraphilia?”

So Chris went down a rabbit hole.

Chris figures out that Apparently philia is a Greek word that means “love”. Better yet, a paraphilia is apparently a non-normative sexual interest. - a fetish. Not really but almost.

The word ‘pedo-philia’ now makes a whole lot more sense. It’s a taboo fantasy. And it’s taboo for a reason ew.

Chris spirals from topic to topic almost forgetting why he even started this search.

Until he goes back in his history to read over the meaning of this thing again.

“I have a crying kink?” He says under his breath his eyes narrowed at the screen while he questions his life and everything that got him to this point.

Chris wrecks his brain to think. It’s like his brain is empty trying to process the information.

Suddenly his mind comes up with a scenario he’s all too familiar with. It’s always the same, just slight differences.

You, His best friend under him crying loudly while choking out moans while he eats you out.

Him fucking you from behind, his eyes glued on the tears rolling down your face through the mirror.

Chris, watching you come on his cock, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you break out in tears, your chest heaving while you try to catch your breath.

He sighs heavily closing his eyes. These were all thoughts he’s had before. He licks his lips his eyes locked on the ceiling. He’s hard, painfully so.

In hindsight, he doesn’t know how he thought these thoughts were average. Well first off he’s fantasizing about his best friend, but also because they seem kind of extreme.

In hindsight it makes sense

+1

Chris continues to thrust into you.

He doesn’t really know how this happened really.. it just kind of did.

He’s kept you in missionary all night thrusting into you.

Some of his messy hair strays were sticking to his forehead from the thin layer of sweat coating his skin.

His eyes stay glued on you. He knows it’s wishful thinking, but he wishes sho much that you’ll start crying for whatever reason .

Of corse he doesn’t want to hurt you or anything, but he would love for his fantasies to become reality.

“Fuck please keep talking” you pant your eyes shutting as you try to take in this moment.

You never in a million years would’ve thought that your best friend would rail you this good.

He keeps hitting every right spot in you to make you weak in the knees.

“Mhm?” He mumbles. You groan in response. he was teasing you. You wanted to hear him talk, and praise you, but instead he was waiting for you to beg for it.

“Come on” you whine. Your head is thrown back at the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

“Eyes on me ma.” He demands. So without any second thought, your eyes snap open and connect with his.

He’s looking down at you with so much love in his eyes, it’s almost painful. Despite literally fucking you dumb right now, he’s looking at you with such intense need and desire it almost makes you melt.

Your mouth drops open when he quickens his pace even more.

Your legs stay wrapped around his torso trying to keep him close.

“So pretty” he breaths out. One of his hands mindlessly grabs one of your boobs starting to toy with it.

He keeps thrusting into you, and the intensity, both physical and emotional, makes your eyes water.

You really were not an overly emotional person, but this good ass sex was making you weak and you silently curse yourself for it.

You let out a slight sob. You immediately fell embarrassed, you slam one of your hands on your mouth to shut yourself up the other one still tangled in your bedsheets.

His eyes widen seeing your eyes become glassy. He felt a corse of adrenaline shoot through him.

“You okay?” His thrusts don’t waver, he doesn’t seem phased by your tears, if anything, only more turned on.

You nod eagerly. You try to make it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to stop since you’re getting close.

He lets out a breath his eyes becoming somehow even darker. “Let me hear you” he says under his breath. His tone is so low but borderline seductive.

He grabs your wrist pulling your hand from your mouth. You have tears running down your face ruining your once perfect make up.

You close your eyes in embarrassment while you can’t help the few sobs between moans. Chris’ desire only seems to be fueled more as he keeps up pace.

You feel the rubber band in your stomach twist up so uncomfortably, ready to snap at any moment.

“Eyes on me or I’ll stop.” Chris threatens gruffly. And as soon as your glossy eyes meet his again,his pace only seems to get messier and more uncontrolled.

You can’t even warn him through your loud sobs, whines and moans, and before you know it you’re creaming a round his cock.

The impact of your orgasm feels like a brick to your head. you feel lightheaded, your eyes only watering more while you can’t seem to keep quiet for the life of you.

Chris is close behind you, and seeing the expression you make, trying to keep your eyes open, but not being able to focus, along with the tear stains on your cheeks and the mixture of sobs and moans, sends him over the edge.

He doesn’t even bother pulling out instead giving you a few more deep and significantly slower thrusts to help you both through your highs.

You blink the tears in your eyes away trying to compose yourself. You honestly don’t know why you have such a man emotional reactions with Chris.

“So pretty” Chris coos. He leans down cupping your face and showers you in kisses. He doesn’t even bother pulling out while he does so.

“You’re not disgusted?” You breathe out. You’ve only cried once during sex before and it was your first time. The guy had been disgusted at it, but ‘let it slide’ since it was your first time.

“No.” Chris chuckles leaving a long kiss on your forehead. “Why would I be?”

His goofy grin makes you smile.

You watch Chris lick his lips. “I’m sorry I’d didn’t ask this before, but.. uh, can you be my girlfriend?” He starts to get more shy again his eyes soften as he looks down at you.

He looks at you with practically heart shaped eyes.

You feel happy when he asks you tho, you don’t want to be his fuck buddy, you want to be his.

“Yes” you breathe out looking up at him.

Chris connects your lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, one that makes your heart melt.

he pulls away with a boyish smile. He slowly pulls out his eye never leaving your face. “I’ll be right back” he mumbles pecking your cheek.

He gets up quickly putting on his boxers, he practically sprints into your bathroom.

You smile at the eagerness. Your new boyfriend was just the sweetest.

Masterlist

‼️ please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

A/N: proofread, but English is not my first language so idk. Tell me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist. I do not write for the triplets anymore, this is a draft.

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life , @h3arts4harry , @whosthislyssbitch , @jamiesturniolo , @sturniololover-09 , @zayyluvz , @sturnzsblog , @jetaimevous , @imwetforyourmom , @yoongslvr69 , @ilovethesturnstriplets , @obsessionsarenotfortheweak , @mininishiriki , @bigbootyjudyyyy , @harry-winkes , @likefirenrain , @emely9274

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James’s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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[myladysapphire]

A doe a Deer - A name i call myself

being the youngest archeron sister often meant that you were the forgotten one, no one ever saw you, until he did.

Azriel x Archeron!OC

Word count: 2,180

CW: mdi 18+, selective mutism, ableims?, death? self-hate, self-doubt, sad boy Azriel, angst, Daphne goes on a jounrey of self discovery in this one. not beta read!

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

Shock resounded across the field as they took in the state of the once war-torn field. The hight lords had all left the tent where the cauldron had been broken and then re-made, where a high lord had died and been reborn. They had thought that would be the most shocking thing that would have happened. That nothing could beat the very destruction of the very object that created the universe.

And yet as they left the tent, expecting the battle to be in full swing still, they ere left with the sight of Daphne Archeron. On her knees her hands outstretched and holding what seemed to be that of a thousand suns in the palm of her hand.

They heard the screams, the begs and the cries of Hyberns men. How the army that outmatched the combined power of seven courts, was eviscerated into nothing but dust.

And then the light changed from a golden blinding ray to a soft sliver glow. The power expanding to where their soldiers stood or flew, having stooped in shocked as their weapons pointed at nothing but piles of dust. As they all turned their eyes to her.

Fear claimed there faces, only to be meet with nothing but a soothing feeling. As their wounds were healed, and their dead reborn.

Their fear morphed into more shock, then into cries of joy, of celebration and victory.

Her name became a cheer, and the name “the saviour of Prythian” quickly found purchase in Daphne Archeron.

The sky had kept a golden hue to it, as if the sun refused to leave and the moon had simply made space in the sky for it. with the sheer strength of her power lingering even hours after, with no focus or thought, as made apparent by Daphne’s blank face.

The question of how she did it still lingered in the air, though she was cauldron made it seemed she had embodied the very might of the cauldron. Even when it had been broken, her power so strong inside her that even as the universe began to shatter, she could still harness the remnants of it.

And because of it, some had even called her a god.

Though if Daphne hadn’t dissociated completely, she would have scoffed at the word. She wasn’t a god, she was just a girl given powers beyond imaginable thought and magic she didn’t need and never wanted.

Hours later, after being coaxed from the battlefield and taken to her tent, she was still sat staring at her hands shocked and confused.

She only remembered parts of what happened, but not why. She had felt the hopelessness of her new family, the defeat she felt from falling soldiers and rage had built with in her, the grief from loosing her father. And as a result, she had become a unbreakable force, wiping out a large army by herself.

She remembered the looks on everyone’s faces. The shock. The horror.

Nesta and Elain had looked at her in disbelief, almost as if they had started fearing her, despite Nesta holding the decapitated head of the king of Hybern in her hand.

It scared her. Scared her that she was capable of doing something like that and what she even could do that and what else she could possibly do.

What if she hurt someone she loved?

But what scared he the most was the fact that’s she could still feel it bubbling inside her. Surely its should all be gone. Surely, she had used every last drop of her magic and she needed to rebuild it.

But as sun danced on her fingers I her pitch-black tent she feared she would be seen as a weapon, as something to fear. And she hated it.

Feyre had told her how proud she was of her, a smile on her lips as her the inner circle all gathered, following the meetings to discuss the war and a possible new treaty.

She had said nothing. And though that was nothing new.

She made no effort to communicate, not with her eyes or facial expression. Not with her hands. Nothing.

Azriel shadows hugged themselves around her skin, oddly drawn to her light.

They traced over her skin as if to offer comfort. But she didn’t even react to them, causing a frown to tug at Azriel’s lips.

She usually lit up when his shadows surrounded her. A smile always tugging at her lips, a happy glint in her eye.

But now there was nothing.

Nothing as the inner circle cheered and celebrated.

But Daphne simply sat and watched.

Nesta had vanished. Though no one seemed to be notice, expect Cassian of course. whose eyes darted around the tent searching for her.

Later that night, she still sat in the same spot as before, her eyes focused on her hands.

Everyone had left for bed, and only daphne and azriel remained.

“daphne” he spoke, moving to sit beside her.

She didn’t look up, her gaze fixated on her hands, drops of sunlight dancing around her fingers.

“daphne” he spoke again, his voice soft but concerned. “What is it?” he asked, the bond between them thrumming in his chest.

She had cut him off, the little connection they had from their bond, a bond neither of them had yet to acknowledge to the other but both knew they over knew of it.

His hand reached for hers, his eyes drawn to the drops of sunlight that his shadows seemed to play with.

A hot seeing pain pierced his skin as his already scarred and brunt flesh was met with the heat of the sun.

She startled back as he hissed in pain.

Her eyes widening in horror.

Standing up quickly, she ran from the rent. Her eyes swelling with sorrow and the bond filling with pleas of forgiveness.

Days passed and no one had seen Daphne. Not even Azriel’s shadows had found her.

And though she wasn’t the only Archeron sister to leave after the war, at least the inner circle knew where she was, where she lived and could find her when needed.

But Daphne? She was simply gone.

Her room in the townhouse was locked, a barrier in place that know one could breach. And yet Azriel knew she wasn’t in there.

He had tugged and tugged on the bond, but found no purchase, but at least it was there, and she was alive, that was enough, right?

It wasn’t for Daphne, not as she had returned to the sight of the war. The place she became a monster.

At least that was the name she had given herself.

She had ignored the praise, the songs that were sung in her honour. And named herself a monster. It was how she saw herself, because she was. She had heart Azriel without even thinking, had reduced thousands to nothing.

She ignored the good she had done, the healing and allowing solders to return home to their families.

Ignored the long feeling she felt every second of every day, the urge to respond to Azriel’s incessant tugs.

And had simple sat and started to think.

In the dust filled field, the remnants of swords, and arrows. Shields and helmets all left and abandoned; she had reflected on herself.

The burden she had been her how life, the illness that had nearly taken her. And how she was gifted with immortality and an ability to irradicate armies.

She had become everything she ever wanted, in truth.

Her whole life she had wished to be okay, to not be plagued with a constant illness. To not hear the tolls of death every winter season. To be able to speak with out fear or her body rebelling. To not be a burden, to be useful. And she had been. She had ended a war and saved the lives of the entire world. And yet, though she no longer felt as if she was a disappointment, she felt as if she was a monster.

She had abandoned her family, the people who had been nothing but proud, to wallow in self-pity, when she had gotten everything, she had ever wanted, or almost.

She had wanted to be loved and seen, and the whole of Prythian had seen her that day. Had started to worship her even.

Love though? She had received bounds of it from her sisters, even if it was veiled behind their poverty, and their struggles. They had showered her in it as she had them, even if not openly she had always felt it.

And now she felt it more so than ever, it was thrumming in her chest, pulling her to where the mountains meet the stars.

But she feared what she would do, she couldn’t control it, she had hurt him. She had hurt him.

The words played on repeat in her mind.

After everything he had told her, of his story, his youth. She had done the very thing; his half-brothers had done to him.

Though she had done it without malice, without thought. It was an accident, and Azriel didn’t hate her for it.

But she hated herself.

And hated that she couldn’t rely on his, on her family’s love, in order to love herself.

If there was one thing Daphen remembered about herself before her family was poor, was the desire to travel the world.

Her mother had long told her of her tales of traveling the continent, of even visiting fae courts. How she had danced with a fae prince who had won her hurt but had forced her to leave shortly after.

It was all she thought of when she was younger. Of what the world looked like, what it would show her, and the love she might find within it.

Of course, for a small child of four or five, this was very little. The world to her was an unimaginable thing. She had never seen the see or what the world outside their family’s estate looked like. And even when she grew up, she rarely saw outside of their small village.

She had still never seen the see, felt the brush of waves against her ankles, or the annoying caw of seagulls circling her as she feasted on her food.

She had never seen the courts her mother spoke of the cities of the mortal realm.

But now she decided she would. Even if she would spend a day doing each, she wanted to travel, to something for herself.

She felt as if her whole life, she had only ever acted to please. To do things that made her sister happy, whether it was find seeds for elain, sewing her sisters clothes, helping Feyre make her traps, or skin her kills. She had always helped, doing whatever they asked when she could, just to hear them say thank you. Just to feel less of a burden.

She had done it so much that she had started to burden them even more. Working herself to the core, getting sicker every year until it killed you, literally.

And though a part of her still whished to return, a part of her nagged at her that her family must be worried, and she so desperately didn’t wish for them to be, that she had to force herself to think of only herself.

And so, she found herself traveling to Gallia. The mortal kingdom her mother hailed from.

It was strange to her that she knew so much about her mother, when her sisters did not. That she only had happy memories of her and they only negative.

And yet she found herself not caring as she walked to the beaches along the shores of the continent.

She had travelled across the entirety of the mortal realms, seen cities and libraries and experienced human life for the first time, even though she was now fae.

But she had savoured the beach till last. Until she felt ready to go back to Velaris and to make it her home.

Peace settled upon her, as the see kissed at her ankles, and sand covered her feet.

She felt peace here, with the sun on her back. Her magic flared within her, and though she still feared it, the calm of the beach and soft sounds of waves crashing into rocks soothed the magic that bubbled with in her.

The sun had never stopped dancing around her fingers or lingering in the dark. The sun always seemed brighter wherever she went, and a warm always filled her chest.

It was comforting, though she dared not admit it. as the fear of what she could still do lingered with in her.

But for once she allowed herself not to think about the future, simply focused on the want to leave and find home.

So for the first time in a year, she found herself responding to the bond.

she just hoped to much hadn’t changed since she left.

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[erenstitanweave]

❥HOW WE LOVE III

pairing: various x reader (vi, caitlyn, vander)

rating: giving/receiving love language headcanons

a/n: so, this is officially a new series! please keep in mind this will be my first time writing for all upcoming characters, respectful criticism and advice on how to write them is welcome! SPOILER ALERT!! reblogs and comments are appreciated, hope you enjoy!!

VI

giving:

poor vi, her eldest daughter syndrome bleeds through every aspect of her life (relatable but we move on)

all jokes (are we joking though??) aside, i think vi would be hesitant to love quickly or even love at all

vi isn't someone who shows her love through words though, so i feel like if she really began to care and love you, she would show it though her actions

i feel like her main type of acts of service would be protecting you in some manner, whether it be verbally or physically

she's genuinely afraid of losing you, so the protective nature would be slightly overbearing in cases where she's on the edge, but other than that, it's pretty standard.

quality time is another big one for her, not just because it's also a way for her to trust you, but because she'd quite literally just want to get to know you better

i could see this being the case whether or not you live the same type of life (i.e: being a zaunite or not)

i feel like she's seen enough to know that regardless of what side you're on, experiences vary for everyone, and she'd just want to know yours and through that, open up to you

small side tangent, but she's TOUCHY.

once she's attached to you, so are her hands. they quite literally are always on you in some way, whether that be through subtle touches (i.e: letting her hand graze against your side when she walks past you, her hands lingering too long as she's holding you, etc.) or through much more obvious ones like an arm wrapped around your waist

receiving:

although she is a protecter by nature, this causes her to be very wary of people and not very trusting of just anyone

i feel like she wouldn't just prefer acts of service but she would need it in order for her to begin to trust you

acts of service, subconsciously or not, are vital to slowly letting down her walls and letting her become trust worthy of you, but once they're down, it's game over

we see in the show how she is once she trusts someone, she shakes off the shell she shows the world and just becomes herself.

i feel like she'd love someone who can't keep their hands off her (except in the obvious situations)

even lingering gazes would make this girl WEAK and she knows it, so just imagine what having your hands all over her does to her brain (short answer: she short circuits)

much like vander, i think a part of her craves words of affirmation because of how her past mistakes constantly haunt and consume her being

even though a part of her knows it isn't her fault things turned out the way it did, a part of her mind won't allow her to believe it

even if she never might truly believe or accept this fact, hearing you tell her good things about herself and praise her makes her head spin with this feeling she can't explain, but all she knows is that it's one she'd never let go

VANDER

giving:

vander to me is probably one of the more protective characters in the show and i think his love languages in terms of giving reflect that heavily

i personally think he'd adore quality time the most, being the man he is, he doesn't really get much time to himself outside of his kids and dealing with the Lanes

it doesn't really matter what kind of quality time to him either imo, i think he'd be most comfortable with just being in your presence, even if you two aren't saying anything

one of his favorites moments though, is seeing you with his kids

he adores seeing you with them, the sight warming his heart knowing the family he works so hard to keep together is happy

words of affirmation i can see being another huge one for him, he'd definitely let you know that you're doing good in whatever you may be doing or even just making it through each day

he'd often pull you aside to let you know though, wanting his words to only be for you and not the prying eyes of others (or the kids potentially listening in on you both)

i could see vander being into physical touch, but only very slightly if it's in public

if you were behind the bar with him, he'd ever so slightly graze the small of your back with his palm or subtly grab onto your waist as he cleaned off the bar

he's an asshole though (lovingly, of course) and would do this especially if you were talking to someone just to get a laugh out of it

he'd be extra careful with this though, as he knows that he constantly has eyes on him, ones that could be dangerous to you if he overdoes his affections

receiving:

i could see vander loving words of affirmation in return, he definitely needs to hear that he's doing a good job taking care of his kids (especially when he feels like they fuck up because of him)

i also can see him holding a lot of doubts about past decisions in all aspects, so just hearing you tell him that he's doing good and that everything will be alright grounds him more than anything

even just telling him that he's a good father, even with his faults and past mistakes will make him feel so much better, no doubt making him fall for you even more than he thought possible

he's the biggest sucker for physical touch too, especially really subtle ones just for the two of you

don't get him wrong, he loves big gestures of physical affection, but he's not alone with you often, making the subtle ones happen a lot more often

he definitely loves holding hands and interlocking fingers especially, the latter being the one you two do more often when around most people

but when the last drop is closed to outsiders and is usually just benzo, the kids, and yourselves, he's all over you

he'll mostly have you in his lap if you're not off with the kids, or just hugging you from behind

CAITLYN

giving:

this girl is a bit of a tough one for me i won't even lie, but she's very well meaning in most aspects

i feel like she'd be into quality time and gift giving honestly

hear me out though, living in piltover her whole life and only recently seeing for herself how the world is and how things can change in an instant makes me think she'd gravitate towards spending time with you in one way or another

it doesn't even have to be explicitly spending time together either, just the fact that you'd be near her would be enough, especially if you're close enough to where she could protect you if need be

her protective nature is one reason why time with you is so sacred to her, not only that she'd be able to cherish her time with you, but that she'd truly be able to appreciate life in it's entirety

the gift giving aspect simply stems from her being wealthy (well not really)

i just see her as someone who expresses herself and what she wants to say with actions, and those actions are gifts

doesn't matter what you like honestly, she'd get it somehow. luxurious clothes? boom, right there on your shared bed. foods or sweets? she somehow has the entire stock right in front of you with a small smile on her face

both of these, to me, just stem from her innate desire to make you happy

she wants to give her lover the world, and with all she's seen in such a short amount of time after being spoonfed certain things about the world, she wants to make sure you're happy with her for as long as you both live

receiving:

receiving is a slight improvement but honestly she screams physical touch and words of affirmation yearner

think about it, being as skilled as she is, she's probably gotten praise about it from everyone

from you, though? it's way different in her mind, especially if you actually talk about why you give her the praises you do

she's expected the praise by now, but to her, it'd feel different because with you, it didn't feel..obligatory or forced

it wouldn't feel like the stuffy, fake pleasantries she'd be used to being in such a high place of power all her life, but something much more sincere and loving

she'd crave it, even going so far as to push herself beyond her limits just to hear you praise and support her for doing so

physical touch to me is another big one for her, i could see touching being a huge factor for her simply because of the intimacy

she most likely has never had anyone as close to her as her lover, so the sheer intimacy with even the slightest of touches knowing that she will only allow this from you is mindblowing for her in the best ways possible

[cha-melodius]

#16, Alex/Henry?

(Also requested by @firenati0n. I feel like there were two obvious options for this one: post-leaks in canon, or post-rescue mission of some kind. You can probably guess which one I chose. 😂 read all the hug ficlets)

Firstprince, 16: The “it’s okay, I’m here” hug.

Add’l note: This is more or less a tiny sequel to So Close to Something Better Left Unknown. You don’t have to have read the fic to read this ficlet, but it does contain minor spoilers for the very end of said fic.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

When Henry gave him the watch, it was half a joke and half because Henry’s in love with him and his hopeless heart latched onto the slim chance to keep an eye on him, at least from a distance. He’d expected Alex to leave it behind, or disable the tracker, or at the very least not wear it, but as far as he can tell, Alex had done none of those things. The tracker bops around the globe, giving Henry far too much information on CIA missions merely through its location. Not that Henry would ever pass on that information to his own agency, or anyone else for that matter.

That Alex trusted him not to, to keep his secrets… Well, it means a lot.

He assumed that at some point his own work would bring him within striking distance of Alex again, and he’d make use of the tracker to find him and… oh, hell, he doesn’t know. Say hello? It sounds absurd for a spy, but it’s pretty much all he could hope for. But before that happens, the tracker gets stuck for a week in a remote part of Guatemala, and Henry starts to get worried. Maybe Alex just lost the watch, or abandoned it for some reason. That’s the most reasonable explanation. Even so, Henry quietly requests recent satellite images of that area and zooms all the way in on the watch’s coordinates.

It’s a high-security compound of some sort. Not good.

He tries not to let his imagination run wild. The tracker he’d left in the watch is extremely high resolution, and he watches it occasionally move around the compound, as if someone was wearing it, though mostly it stays in one place. Alex could have traded it or gifted it as part of an operation; it was a valuable watch, after all. Still, it nags at Henry. He’s not going to be able to rest until he finds out what actually happened. The most straightforward way would be simply asking, but he has no way of contacting Alex except a burner phone he has no reason to believe Alex would be monitoring.

He sends a message anyway, but after a few days without a response, he can’t take it anymore.

It’s completely mad, he knows it is, but he makes up an excuse about tracking down a lead on a long-cold operation and books a ticket to Guatemala City. He covertly watches the outside of the compound for three days, keeping track of the men who come and go, and sends photos of them to Bea with a request to run facial recognition and not ask any questions. (She does, of course, but she doesn’t push, even when they come back with the names of some very bad people.)

Finally, once the compound’s primary resident leaves and takes with him what should be the majority of his armed muscle, Henry makes his move. The watch is still inside, and Henry follows the tracker’s signal down into the basement of an outbuilding, taking out a handful of guards with tranquilizers as he goes. The building is dark and dank, and the series of locked metal doors he finds do nothing to help the cold, hard knot that’s settled into his stomach. His hands don’t shake as he picks the lock on the one the watch is resting behind, but that careful composure slips when the door finally swings open to reveal a miserable lump curled on a thin mattress, a head of matted curls just visible through the murky darkness.

Alex flinches away when Henry first reaches out for him, scrambling into the corner, but then his eyes land on Henry and his mouth drops open. He blinks rapidly, scrubs frantically at his eyes, and blinks again.

“Henry?” he croaks in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you, love,” Henry tells him, holding his hands out in front of him as he slowly moves closer. “I’ve come to get you.”

There’s a beat of silence, then another, then Alex surges toward him. Henry almost shies away himself, unsure of what Alex means to do, but then Alex is grabbing him and wrapping him up in a hug so tight it squeezes the air out of Henry’s lungs, and Henry can do nothing else but curl his arms around the trembling man now occupying his lap.

“It’s ok, I’m here,” he murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand down Alex’s back.

“How?” Alex chokes out. “How did you…?”

His voice trails off as he raises his left arm and looks at his own wrist, where a bit of watch strap peeks out beyond the filthy cuff of his shirt. Inexplicably, his captors had let him keep it, though that becomes more understandable when his sleeve slips further down and Henry sees how he’s smeared it with mud. The exquisite Patek Philippe now looks like a beaten up piece of junk.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” Alex says, his voice cracking over the syllables. He drops his arm and tries to bury his face in Henry’s chest. “That probably sounds dumb.”

“No, love, it doesn’t,” Henry says, holding him tighter. It’s torture to pull away, but eventually he must. “Come on,” he says, tipping Alex’s chin, now covered in a scraggly beard, up so their eyes meet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 12 - The Muscle

Chapter Summary - the cobra is active once again, and someone close to Y/N has a target on their back.

warnings: mentions of murder

Series Masterlist

MINORS DO NOT GO BEYOND THIS POINT

I awoke the following morning to yelling from downstairs. It seemed the appearance of my father had caused some tension to arise.

"How did he even get onto the property? The guards know not to let him in unless we say so." I heard Wooyoung say, his voice strained from stress.

I could imagine the fallout. Not only the impact of me leaving halfway through my own party, but also the fact that the majority of the guests that were there hated my father equally as much. Seeing him supposedly invited to a party at the ATZ Manor could cause some damage to their reputation, or worse, cut ties with allies all together.

"It was a masquerade ball. He probably snuck in as a plus one." Yeosang answered Wooyoung, his voice indifferent. Yeosang had gone radio silent since our time in the library. He wasn't avoiding me, at least not on purpose, I suspected he was busy with work.

"With everything going on, why would he think it would be a good idea to show up here?" Mingi grumbles. By this time, I had made my way out of my room and was now hiding on top of the stairs. By the sound of it, they were gathered in the living room.

"He obviously wanted something. Yunho, did Y/N say anything?" Hongjoong asks.

"She didn't want to talk about it. Honestly, I didn't realise it was her father until she outright told me." Yunho says. I could imagine him sprawled out on one of the couches, his head resting on the arm with a hard expression on his face, his dark hair messy from sleep.

"She didn't say anything about why he could be here? Anything at all?"

"No, I don't think we have to worry about her. She wants nothing to do with him." Yunho says, his words causing a pang of confusion to prick at my stomach. Worry about me?

"Good, just in case, Yeosang can keep an eye on her since he's finished with his work." Hongjoong says, causing Yeosang to let out a groan.

"Are you really making me babysit? Yunho just said she's not a threat." Yeosang asks, his voice almost whiney.

"We don't know her well enough, she could be a spy." Hongjoong says.

"I think work is making you paranoid." Seonghwa says, his voice low in warning.

"Maybe you should all be paranoid." Hongjoong hisses, the sound of a chair scooting on the floor tells me he's stood up now. "The Cobra is on the move again, Y/N's father shows up uninvited to a party he shouldn't have known about. Not to mention, two of our generals were killed in their own homes."

"That still doesn't mean Y/N has anything to do with it!" Seonghwa argues, probably standing also. "Do you think she's the Cobra?" He scoffs.

Hongjoong laughs bitterly. "I don't know! It's possible, just like it's possible it could be one of us. But I trust you more, don't I? More then -" He stops when he sees me, now standing in the doorway of the living room with a heart broken expression.

Did they really think that of me? That I was a spy? Did Hongjoong not trust me even after all those nights we'd spent alone together?

The others turn to see me, Mingi and Jongho mirroring a saddened expression. The others just stared, probably not knowing what to do. Hongjoong looks down at his feet in shame.

"You're right," Hongjoong says, sighing deeply as he takes a seat once more. "I'm paranoid." He sounded more disappointed in himself, more than the fact that Seonghwa was right. I felt attacked yes, a little heartbroken sure, but I understood his worries.

He had a family here, one that I still needed to fond my place in, one that he needed to protect.

"The Cobra is back?" I ask, my hands fidgeting with the string of my night dress.

"A body was found last night." Mingi confirms softly, standing up and walking over to me. He reaches for my upper arms and gently rubs them with his calloused hands, giving my biceps a gentle and comforting squeeze. "Nowhere near here, but it was a his M.O."

"Were any of you going to tell me this?" I ask, glancing behind him and, for some reason, looking directly at Yeosang, who stared right back at me. It was like he was talking to me with his eyes, and I understood every word.

'Be calm, and all will be told.' Patience was never one of my strong suits.

"There's a lot to unpack." San says, the boy lounging in only a pair of sweatpants and a coat, his bare chest and abs distracting me for a breath moment.

"Like what?" I ask, moving away from Mingi and towards the empty spot beside Yeosang. "I want to know."

Hongjoong and Seonghwa share a look, before Seonghwa lets out a sigh.

"He's announced his next target." Hongjoong tells me, his expression serious. "It's someone you know."

"Who?" I ask, a sick feeling in my stomach.

"Mia Hua." Wooyoung answers for him, his voice soft but loud enough for me to catch the name.

"Mia? But she's not involved in this world! What would the Cobra have to gain from her death?" I question, my words coming out in a shout as I stand.

"Doll.." Seonghwa says, reaching forward, but I move away. I had to get out of there, a moment of peace to collect my thoughts.

The only girl who had been nice to me in 3rd grade, and had never left my side since. The girl who protected me, and gave me a home when life at home got too much. My best friend.

My sister.

She had a target on her back, and for what? Being a painter? Did The Cobra know I was searching for him already? Why has everyone I'm close to become a target?

Then it clicked.

Why did everyone I know become a target?

I made it to the library when I had my epiphany, the gears turning in my head, making it spin in turn. I hadn't noticed I'd been followed, not until his hands cupped my face.

Yeosang stared back at me, slowly bringing me back to earth with his gentle gaze. He understood the pain and fear. He had to have, especially with Aurora. I let my breathing settle, matching the patterns with his.

"There you are." He says gently, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. "It's okay, baby. Everything is going to be fine."

"It's me, Yeosang." I say, my breath heavy. "I'm the big target."

"What're you talking about?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowing. As I move towards the back windows.

"Everyone I know, every single target aside from Aurora I have met or known at some point. Yeosang, I'm a common factor." I say, starting to pace. "The Cobra has to be someone close to me, or someone associated with my family."

Yeosang stared back at me, genuinely considering my words. "I'll bite; if you're right, who could possibly be a mindless serial killer?"

"My father probably." I grumble.

"It can't have been, he was here last night." Yeosang says.

"When was the body found?"

"Early this morning." Yeosang answers, not missing a beat. It felt refreshing in an odd way.

"Do we know the time of death yet?" I ask next.

"Around 7:30 last night." He says, his voice going quiet as we both stare at each other. I could see the gears turning in his head now. "This is insane." He says. "As much as I hate that man, he's got too much going for him. Besides, would he really try and kill you or your sisters?"

I thought for a moment, sure he was a cruel father, but he'd never kill any of us.

"But you believed it." I say, taking a step forward. "Even if it was just for a second."

Yeosang relaxes his shoulders, looking away briefly. "If you're right.."

"Yeosang we could put a serial killer away!" I whisper, closing the gap between us and taking his hand. "The man who killed Aurora, the man whose been tormenting my family."

"That's not what I'm worried about. Not anymore." He says softly, his eyes gazing into my own again. "If it is your father.. Y/N that would destroy you, no matter how much you hate him."

I look down at our entwined hands. A small part of me didn't want to believe it.

"He is not my father." I say, "If putting him away saves whats left of my family then so be it."

I jolt slightly as I feel Yeosangs lips brush the crown of my head. "Just.. Let us do the dirty work." He whispers, cupping my cheek as I loft my head again. "I'm not letting history repeat itself."

I always had a feeling Yeosang was a romantic at heart, but this? This was a whole other level. I felt like I was in a movie with the way he was looking at me.

"I'm not going anywhere, Yeosang. You have my word."

I slept beside Seonghwa that night, the mans arm draped over my waist as he slept soundly behind me. My mind couldn't stay in one place, my thoughts muddled with worry. Hongjoong had agreed to allow Mia to stay in a safe house deep in the city. Mark would love with her for added protection, though I'm sure the only thing he could do was talk them out of it (To which I had faith).

I felt Seonghwas lips on my shoulder, just above the elastic of my night dress.

"Doll, you should sleep." He murmers. "If you keep worrying about one thing, you'll never have any new ideas about other things."

I pondered his words for a moment before speaking. "Have any of you ever had a target on your back?"

My question seemed to humour him, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

"All of us had, but they were empty threats." He says. "The only time the Cobra targeted one of us was after he killed Aurora." He says.

"He targeted one of you after?" I ask.

"Yeosang." Seonghwa answers softly. My eyes softened at the thought. They really couldn't catch a break.

"The Cobra went into hiding before he could make anything of it." Seonghwa continues. "Until now at least."

"Would he still come after Yeosang?" I ask, feeling Seonghwa hold me a little tighter against his chest.

"I hope not." He whispers.

a short one cause I've got two big chapters coming up! sorry I've been away for so long, I've been absolutely hounded by work right now, not to mention I start up again at Uni next week.

on a positive note; updates should return to normal once i set my routine up next week. so look forward to some more chapters! also, questions and feedback are always welcome! i love reading your comments!

taglist:

@bellaptv @arilevenatz @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @hecateslittlewitchling @starhwacore @neuviloved @monstacheol @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @vtyb23 @bigbabygremlin @professormingisglasses @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @pinuspot @astral-trashcan @ateezswonderland @joonhasjiminsjams @atzlordz @lightwxodd

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

you in my eyes [5] l Javier Peña

Summary:  you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings:  smut, fingering, kissing, enemies (?) to lovers, misogyny and sexism at work, some bad language, Murphy shows up, alcohol

A/N: I don't know how many people read this series, but I wanted to add another chapter. Maybe I can make someone happy with it.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[previous chapter]

[masterlist]

You turned down the TV and sat up on the couch, someone was knocking on the door. It was already late Friday evening, which you decided to spend at home. After Messina announced that O'Connell had been urgently called to the States, you felt calmer. That's why you didn’t go to any pub or place like that.

The knock repeated and you finally approached the door.

"Javier?" the man on the other side smiled “What are you doing here?”

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, a little confused.

"No. But it's late. Is something wrong?"

He raised his hand, in which he held the bottle of whiskey, and waved it, smiling slyly.

"I won the bet," he boasted.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the door frame, looking at him with interest. Peña was pleased to note that you were wearing a green baggy t-shirt, probably from the department's supply, and your hair was still damp from the shower. You looked nice.

"There was a bet, back at the office. The guys were betting on when O'Connell would give up and come home." Javier explained. "And I won."

"You bet he'd leave right now?"

"No. I said someone would punch him in the face."

You burst out laughing. And even Peña laughed, still holding his bottle in front of you.

"We're partners, so you deserve it, too."

"Oh! How generous of you! You flatter me, Agent Peña."

You bit your lip as if you were thinking about something, then gently pushed the door open, nodding slightly. 

He entered the room, bringing with him the smell of cologne and cigarette smoke.

"I wasn't expecting guests." You announced, pulling glasses out of the cabinet.

"I was wondering if I'd find you home." He mumbled, unscrewing the bottle and giving you a furtive glance. "Didn't you want to go out somewhere?"

You put the glasses down on the coffee table with a clatter and sat down on the couch, pulling your legs under you. "I wasn't in the mood. I think I'll skip places like that for a while."

Javier poured the amber liquid into the glasses and handed one to you, sitting next to you.

"¡Salud!" He raised his glass in a toast, and you did the same. "What are we drinking to?"

"Peace of mind." You replied. "Unless you have other suggestions?"

"Naah. That's good too."

You tipped the glasses down and Javier filled them again.

"Nobody's waiting for you?" you asked as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and lit one. "I think you'd find better company than me."

"Oh! I definitely would!" Javier chuckled, blowing a wisp of smoke from his mouth. "Don't tell anyone I came here, you'll only ruin my reputation."

You laughed and covered your eyes with your hand as if you were thinking about something. "God! Can you imagine that?" Javier raised his eyebrows expectantly. "What the girls in the office say about you, what the guys say about me... And what would they say if we started sleeping together? Damn! Loise would go gray in an hour."

"Murphy would beat the shit out of me." Javier stated, sipping his drink. "He probably thinks you're too good for me."

"And he's right." you shrugged "I could be with the commander, but I'd trade him for a simple agent? Sorry, Peña, no chance."

"Fuck, you're a menace." he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

It was nice. He sat with you, talked about work and life. Melancholic stories from your past life, no plans for the future, because where you were you didn't really plan anything. Neither of you delved deeper, because why would you, it was just a friendly conversation over a Friday night drink.

After the third glass, he noticed your legs, exactly when you got up to go to the bathroom. The skimpy shorts gave Javier room for imagination. His eyes, dark as night, followed you involuntarily, and then he cleared his throat.

The alcohol was coursing through his veins, he felt hot, so he took off his jacket and threw it on the armchair next to him, rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn't even hear you come back. Only the feeling of you sitting down next to him, the smell of your shampoo caught his attention.

"I'm a terrible housekeeper." you stated finishing your drink, Javier raised his head looking at you with interest "I don't have anything to eat, nothing I could give you." you pouted and he chuckled.

"Please, hermosa." he sighed "If I wanted to eat something, I would take you out for dinner. I have a hard time believing you cook anything yourself, to be honest."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise "You're suggesting that..."

"I'm not suggesting anything." he interrupted you and instinctively placed his hand on your thigh, stroking it gently "You just work a lot, like me."

"Maybe if we had someone to cook for sometime..." you pondered, completely not noticing his gesture, which only made Javier not withdraw his hand "Murphy and Connie, they definitely cook."

"Not as often as they both might claim." he raised an eyebrow and you laughed "But Connie is good at it. Anyway, you'll find out tomorrow."

"It's nice that they invited me, I guess..." you lowered your eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed "I mean... We don't know each other that well, right?"

Peña frowned.

"What the hell are you talking about? If it wasn't for you, they would still be collecting our fragments from the surrounding trees by now."

"Don't say that."

"But it's true." he moved closer to you, his hand moved higher, now resting on your hip, his thumb stroking your body hidden under your shirt. Neither of you felt embarrassed by this, maybe it was because of the drinks you had, or maybe it was that night. "You're doing a great job here. Everyone can see it."

"They think I'm a slut." you mumbled almost incomprehensibly and Javier had to tilt his head slightly to hear your words "No matter what I do, I'm labeled an easy girl. You know... I try not to worry about it, people will always talk, but sometimes... Sometimes it hurts."

He grabbed your chin and lifted it slightly. Beautiful brown eyes stared at you intently. "The most important thing is what you think about yourself. Double standards suck, you said so yourself and you were right. Surely if I say you're the coolest chica in the office, it won't change anything, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "Please..."

"And you have the prettiest legs." Peña added quickly, you chuckled "Your smile is also very pretty. And when you're excited about something, your eyes widen and shine so nicely." you snorted, your hand closing over his, which was still holding your chin. "And when you yelled at me the first time, I got hard."

The smile disappeared from your lips, which slightly widened in surprise. You fell silent, both of you a little surprised by this bold confession.

"Javier..."

His name was quieter than a whisper, but he heard it clearly. He leaned even closer. Warm breath brushed your lips.

"This is really a very bad idea." you said with difficulty.

"You can stop me, hermosa." His lips lightly brushed yours, you closed your eyelids, inhaling the air.

"Did I really make you hard?"

"Mhmm..." you didn't see the smile of satisfaction on his lips. "They call it difficult working conditions."

It was a split second and you felt his lips on yours. All dilemmas disappeared, and when you kissed him back he knew he was gone. Your hands instantly found their way to his face, your fingers tangled in soft hair and you pulled him closer, parting your lips.

An invitation that Javier read flawlessly. His tongue slipped into your mouth, you tasted the whiskey, and that was even more captivating for him. The kisses were intense, deep as if you both could finally give vent to what had been brewing inside you for a long time. You felt him squeeze your buttock and you moaned, but his tongue effectively muffled you. So you didn't wait for anything more, in an instant you slid onto his lap and clung to his body. Javier felt your breasts under the thin T-shirt, you didn't have a bra. He knew that, of course he had already glanced at your breasts, but when he felt it…

You pulled away from his lips for a moment and looked into his dark eyes.

"You can back out at any time. No hard feelings." you said. "I don't want you to feel..."

"Used?" Javier laughed quietly. "I guess I'm the one who should be saying things like that, don't you think?" his hands gripped your buttocks tighter, making you feel the bulge in his jeans.

"Oh!"

"That's a clear answer, I guess."

He lifted himself up and his lips captured yours again. The excitement grew in your lower abdomen with every passing second, with every kiss and touch. His strong hands shamelessly slid under your shirt, first stroking your back, and after a moment he grabbed your breasts. He kneaded your tits, rolled your nipples between his fingers, and you moaned as much as his tongue in your mouth would allow you.

"Take it off." he ordered, tugging at your shirt.

"Do it yourself."

"You're something else, you know that?"

You bit your lip, smiling obediently, raising your arms up so the shirt could be removed. Javier kissed you the second your lips peeked out from behind your collar. Damn, he was a threat to you.

Large hands explored your body, testing every inch of it, teasing every nerve. Could you want more? God, you didn't have to ask, he wanted to give it all to you.

When he slid his hand into your shorts, you gasped loudly.

"Fuck, you've got a real pool here, sweetheart." he mumbled, smiling slyly. "Would you like me to take care of that?"

A nod.

"Words, hermosa. Just words."

"Yes, please."

He ran his fingers over your folds, hot and wet, knowing perfectly well that he would be able to slide them inside without a problem. And so he did. And when you threw your head back, sighing quietly, he marveled at how wonderful the sight was.

Hot lips closed over one of your nipples, sucking and teasing with his tongue, fingers moving in and out, searching for that spot that could take you apart.

"Shit, Javier..." you moaned.

You clenched your fingers in his hair, hips rising slowly and rhythmically as he finger fucked you. Why did this have to feel so good? You couldn't remember the last time you felt like this, when someone had made you feel so...

"Oh fuck!"

"I think I found it." Javier chuckled, kissing your cleavage, your skin was slightly salty from sweat but still smelled of soft soap and you "I'm holding you, hermosa, take what you need."

He crossed his fingers with his thumb massaging your clit, the pressure was perfect and soon he felt your walls clench around his fingers, your body tensing and you held your breath for a moment feeling the pleasure spread through your body.

You rested your head on Javier's shoulder breathing deeply, his hands stroking your thighs sending a pleasant shiver through your heated skin.

"That was the first one." Peña finally spoke.

"The first one?" you lifted your head and looked at him curiously "Planning more of these?"

"Oh, sweetheart..." he sighed, brushing the strands of hair from your face, then bringing his lips to yours and stealing a tender kiss "At least two more tonight." another kiss "Two in the morning." another one "And how much more will you allow me to have with you, because - fuck - I want to see you cum again. I knew I'd get in trouble with you."

Your hand stroked the back of his neck, you could probably let him have a little more of you.

It was like an addiction. Javier was addicted, and you were his best drug. Before he knew it, you were crawling under his skin, coursing through his veins, and rushing to his head. Sometimes it felt like every time he saw you, his addiction grew.

His fingerprints were all over your body, and he proudly wore yours, even though no one was around to see it. You kept the fact that you were dating a secret, even though you never talked about it like that.

God! You never thought you could fall for a guy like that, and even more so that you would let him do things like that to you. Because sex with Javier was on another level. 

Never before, no one had made you feel so desired, enough, beautiful, and fulfilled. Peña gave you the best orgasms, the ones that left you silent for a moment afterwards because you couldn't form a grammatically correct sentence in your head. The sleep problems disappeared and lazy mornings were something you loved doing with him. 

His sleepy eyes, his hot body, his ruffled hair... In the dictionary, next to the word 'sex', they should have put a picture of Javier, you were sure of that.

In your apartment or in his, in the car in the parking lot, or at work in some tight space, because you wanted a quickie. It was getting more and more intense and what you were feeling was starting to scare you a little. A little over three weeks since O'Connell left, and you felt really good. For a while.

The information about the mole in the office was bothering Messina and she had talked to you about it many times. You promised that you would revolve around it, but for some time you hadn't found any new leads. It was frustrating.

"I talked to informants, but no one would tell me anything." You muttered one evening, resigned.

Peña opened a beer and sat down with his ordered food. "Maybe you're looking in the wrong places? Maybe it's not some higher agent or something?"

"But all this information that's been leaking..." you sighed.

“Honestly, many people have access to it. Hermosa, stop stabbing your food with fork and start eating,” he replied, gesturing to your plate.

However, your gaze drifted away for a moment. Javier noticed it after a moment, huffed impatiently. "Hermosa." he repeated warningly.

"Hmm?"

"You'll have cold food." he shook his head in disbelief. "I really don't know why I'm here with you."

You looked up from your plate and smiled. Your foot, under the table, slowly slid up his leg and headed for his crotch, rubbing it lightly. "I think I know why."

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. It was nice, what was between you. Although neither of you named it. The sex was fucking amazing, you could talk or not talk at all and Javier loved it. You didn't pressure him, you didn't expect declarations or confessions. You took what he gave you, you gave just as much.

And eventually both of you started eating more or less regularly, although the last attempt at cooking ended in burnt chicken, because when Javier came back from work he had a strong urge to get into your panties.

He grabbed you at the ankle and squeezed lightly which made you smile, he loved it. You spent quite a lot of time together and he slowly started to notice the little things he liked about you. Your smile was his favorite though.

"Murphy and I have to go out of town. We'll be gone for a few days." he said watching you as you reached for his beer and took a few sips.

"Anything important? Do you have new sources?" you asked, frowning.

Javier nodded "Yeah, we want to check them out. We also need to watch one guy."

"Okay. Just watch your backs. I won't be able to save your asses there." You squealed as he gripped your calf tighter and pulled you so hard you almost fell off the chair "Peña! Fuck you!"

"You wish." he chuckled, but then turned serious "You watch your back too, hermosa. Promise me that."

And you promised, and then you gave him something so he wouldn't forget about you and would have something to think about when he and Murphy were out of town.

"Will you miss me?"

You shook your head. "I don't think so."

"I think you will." Javier stopped the car in front of the office building and turned off the engine.

It was still early, the streets were empty. You were enjoying your last moments together. His hand on your thigh squeezed you lightly, it was nice.

"Tell me you'll miss me." He looked at you with a gentle smile and those eyes of a poor puppy. "I know you have a soft spot for me."

"You wish!" you chuckled.

"I will."

There was something in his tone of voice that made the laughter die on your lips. Those ambiguous sentences made your heart beat faster, but you calmed it down every time. You didn't want it to happen so soon. And what was that anyway?

"Maybe a little." You finally sighed, his lips stretched into a smile.

"Kiss me, hermosa."

It wasn't a request, more of an order, but you didn't mind. Javier moved closer, you stroked his cheek tenderly, and then you let his lips brush yours. At first gently, because he was teasing you, and he loved doing that. Finally, you curled your fingers in his hair and Javier slid his tongue between your lips, you moaned. His hand grabbed your waist as if he wanted to pull you even closer. Damn, he kissed like a dream.

Another brush of lips, another tender touch. Finally, he rested his forehead against yours and sighed. "Maybe we still have time, huh? Murphy will definitely be late."

"I don't think so." you replied quietly.

"He's always late."

“But not today.”

Javier looked at you, surprised, and then turned around. Steve was standing in front of the hood of his car, his glasses slid down his nose and he looked at you with disbelief on his face.

You opened the door. "I guess I'll go now." you said, smiling uncertainly, "Take care of yourselves."

"You too, hermosa." Javier replied, sitting down in his seat and putting on his glasses.

Steve nodded in your direction, then walked over to the car. "Really?" he asked, staring at his friend, "You and her? Really?"

Peña didn't even look at him, "Get in."

"Is that why you haven't been so annoying lately?" Murphy chuckled, but got in and closed the door with a soft click.

The engine started and the car slowly rolled down the road.

It was strange. They managed to come back a day early. He wanted to surprise you. He even bought some oranges, which you liked so much lately. But the apartment door was closed. Javier kept knocking for a while. He glanced at his watch. It was late, so you should have…

"She left." The older man peeked out from behind the neighboring door and glared at Javier.

"Long time ago?" he asked, surprised.

The man shrugged. "I don't remember. But she looked really nice." He smiled slightly. “You must have been late, boy. If she’s not here yet…”

Javier nodded and quickly went down the stairs. Something strange tightened his insides. He didn't expect this...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @qpiiee @missladym1981 @axshadows @djappleblush @picketniffler @txmel @wowitsafemale @cheekychaos28 @underneath-the-sky-again @misstokyo7love

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° no, nothing good starts

♡ a/n — for my new F1 x Bllk series !

♡ word count — 1k

♡ content — bachira meguru x fem! reader, PR manager! reader, F1 racer! bachira, no established relationship, bachira is crazy, mentions of a car crash, reader slowly liking bachira, mentions of drinking (kinda) , bachira is a menace and loves bothering reader

♡ synopsis — Meguru Bachira was known for one thing in the F1 world, his insanity. You just hoped you could hold onto your own when living with him.

Bachira Meguru was chaos wrapped in charm.

His driving style was infamous in the world of Formula 1—wild, unorthodox, and borderline dangerous. Where others played it safe, he took every risk imaginable. He was the kind of driver who kept engineers up at night, wringing their hands over the longevity of car parts. Fans loved him for his unpredictability, but team managers hated him for the same reason. And now, thanks to his growing reputation for off-track antics, you had been saddled with the impossible task of taming him.

Your official title was PR Manager, but your actual job was more like a glorified babysitter. You’d been assigned to Bachira after an incident involving an unauthorized rooftop party in Monaco, complete with fireworks, which ended with him being escorted out by police.

The FIA had been furious.

The team had been livid.

And you? You were just trying to survive.

You met him on a Thursday afternoon, standing outside the team’s garage. He greeted you with a grin so wide it made your cheeks hurt just looking at it.

“Ohhh, you must be [Name]!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing on his feet. “They told me I was getting a PR babysitter. You’re cuter than I expected.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, refusing to rise to his bait. “I’m here to make sure you don’t singlehandedly ruin this team’s reputation. Let’s keep the compliments to a minimum, shall we?”

He gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “So cold! I like you already.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. This was going to be a long season.

For the first week, he tested every boundary you set.

He snuck out of meetings, ignored curfews, and somehow managed to get himself banned from an entire bar in Barcelona after an incident involving a mechanical bull. You spent more time cleaning up his messes than actually managing his public image.

And then there were the nights.

Bachira was a nocturnal creature, disappearing after dinner only to resurface hours later with stories of his latest escapades. You’d find him perched on rooftops, wandering city streets, or, on one memorable occasion, attempting to start a drum circle with strangers in the park.

“You’re impossible,” you told him one night, dragging him back to the hotel after finding him trying to climb a lamppost.

He just laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “And you love it.”

Race day in Spa-Francorchamps was a nightmare.

The infamous Belgian track was wet from an earlier rainstorm, the slick surface making the already dangerous circuit even more treacherous. Everyone was on edge—the drivers, the engineers, the fans.

Everyone except Bachira.

He was practically vibrating with excitement as he climbed into his car, flashing you a grin through the visor of his helmet. “Don’t worry, [Name],” he said over the radio. “I’ll put on a good show for you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you muttered, watching as he pulled out of the garage.

The race started smoothly enough, but it didn’t take long for things to spiral. Bachira’s car darted through the pack like a predator hunting prey, taking corners at impossible angles and threading the needle between rival cars.

Your heart was in your throat as you watched him move into P4, his sights clearly set on the three cars ahead of him.

“Meguru, slow down,” you said into the headset, your voice tight with worry. “The track’s dangerous, and you’re pushing too hard.”

“Pushing is the fun part,” he replied, his tone light and teasing.

“Meguru, I’m serious,” you pressed. “Wait for an opening. Don’t force it.”

But he wasn’t listening.

You watched in horror as he tried to squeeze his car into a gap that didn’t exist, the tires screeching as he fought for control. And then, in an instant, it all went wrong.

The back end of his car clipped another, sending him spinning off the track and into the gravel. The sound of crunching metal filled your ears, followed by static as the radio cut out.

Your heart stopped.

“Meguru?” you said, your voice shaking. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, through the crackling static, you heard it: laughter.

“Meguru!” you snapped, equal parts furious and terrified. “Answer me!”

“That was awesome!” he said, his voice crackling through the headset. “Did you see that drift?”

Your knees nearly buckled with relief, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “Awesome?! You could’ve been seriously hurt, you idiot!”

“Eh, I’m fine,” he said, still laughing. “A little gravel never hurt anyone.”

You ripped off the headset, turning away from the pit wall as your hands shook. He was fine, but you weren’t sure you’d survive working with him.

Later that night, you found him sprawled on the couch in your shared hotel suite, completely unbothered.

“Hey, [Name],” he said, waving at you with a chip in hand. “Want some?”

You stared at him, your anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Do you have any idea how close you came to disaster today?”

He shrugged, popping another chip into his mouth. “Close, but not quite.”

“That’s not the point!” you snapped, storming over to him. “You scared the hell out of me, Meguru!”

His grin faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer. “You were scared for me?”

“Of course I was scared for you, you maniac!” you shouted, throwing your hands up. “You could’ve died out there, and you’re sitting here eating chips like it’s no big deal!”

He sat up, tilting his head as he studied you. “You’re cute when you’re worried, you know that?”

“Meguru, I’m serious!”

“I know,” he said, his voice softer now. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You sighed, sitting down beside him. “You can’t keep doing this, Meguru. One of these days, you’re not going to walk away from a crash, and then what?”

He leaned back, his grin returning. “Then I guess I’ll have to haunt you.”

You glared at him, but he just laughed, the sound warm and infectious. Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, leaning back against the couch.

“And you love it,” he teased, nudging you with his elbow.

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew he was right.

idk what happened recently but i hate everything i write, hope this was still good :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 2

Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Part two baby let's goooooooooo

Okay first up, I wanna thank every single person who has liked, reblogged, commented on and read part one (if you didn't catch it, you can read it here :)) . I love and appreciate every single one of you. Your support, comments and tags are literally food for my soul. So thank you ^^

Second, this fic makes reference to @beckyninja 's Titus x reader fic series. Specifically, it references Titus' relationship with the reader character "little healer." I really wanted to reference them bc they were such a big inspiration for me and @beckyninja is such an awesome writer and creator. If you wanna know more, go check out their fics. They're superbly written, and as mentioned above, they are among the inspo for this series. So go read them! :D

Third, standard warnings and notes: this part is sfw, but has violence, angst and general 40kness. Also unedited so apologies for any spelling and grammar errors (I'm sure there are some lol)

As always, thank you for reading and please enjoy :)

Between the towering grid of criss-crossing spires, the night sky twinkled at Ellicent. It was only a sliver- if she held out her hand, she could cover it entirely with her palm. But for a girl whose life until how had been spent at the very bottom of the Underhive's deepest fissures, it was like looking through a planetary telescope.

Stars of every colour shone against the deep blue back drop. It might just be her imagination, but Ellicent could've sworn it they were winking at her. Like they knew how pretty they were, and were only too happy to show off of her.

A smile touched Ellicent's lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly content.

"I thought I might find you up here."

She turned in her seat. On her left, not far from where the chimney sat, a warm, round face framed with silver hair appeared over the edge of the roof. Ellicent's smile broadened a little more. "You know me well," she said.

Climbing off the ladder and onto the roof, Gadriel carefully made his way over to her Although they were about the same age, were she was lithe like a cat, he built like an ox. Meant with every step he took, the iron sheet that made up the roof shook and rattled. He lowered himself down beside her, then followed her gaze upward.

"Pretty, right?" Ellicent said.

"Uh huh. If only there weren't so many hive spires in the way."

Smirking, Ellicent leaned into his shoulder. Gadriel lifted his arm to make room for her, then draped it around her. Ellicent had to resist the urge to sigh- after sitting outside in the cold for so long, the warmth of his body against hers was heavenly.

"If you join the Angels, you'll get to see all of it," she said.

"You mean when."

"Sorry. When."

Both of their tones are humourous, but underneath is an edge. An unspoken tension wedged between them, despite how close they are now.

"I thought you'd be too old now, anyway," Ellicent said. "Don't they only take young boys?"

"18 cycles is the official cut off," Gadriel said. "I've still got one more left to make it."

Eliicent nodded, but said nothing. Her silence, however, spoke for her.

Gadriel's arm around her tightened. Gently, he guided her head into the crook of his neck. "Ellie. I-"

"I know. It's the best way to get out of here. To get us out of here." She shook her head slightly. "But it's not the only way. And it's definitely the most dangerous."

"It's only dangerous for me," Gadriel said. "For you and Mum, it's the safest."

Ellicent swallowed the lump that was forming in the back of her throat. An old familiar grief rose up within her heart. With it, it brought pictures of her father.

"Ellie?" Gadriel asked. She felt the warm kiss of his forehead touching her crown. "Will you say something?"

Gazing up at him, Ellicent gave him a brief peck on the lips. "We've still got one cycle," she said. "We'll figure something else out by then."

"And if we don't?"

"We will," Ellicent said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It wasn't him.

Over and over, her head tells her the same thing. With every turn of her screwdriver. With every jolt of pain that shoots through her shoulder from her damaged cybernetic arm.

It wasn't him.

It wasn't him.

It wasn't him.

"But it was," Ellicent says aloud. "It was. He said my name. I heard his voice. It was him."

Why did he never come back, then?

Why did he leave you?

The screwdriver slips from her hand and clatters to the floor. Cursing, she stoops down to pick it up. "I... I don't know," she hisses at herself. "Maybe he- maybe he was too busy. Or thought I was already dead."

Or maybe he forgot about you.

Tears sting Ellicent's eyes. It's all she can do to keep herself from crying out loud.

"It wasn't him," she mutters. "It can't have been."

The snap of an opening door makes her look up.

"Ellicent! What the hell was that?"

Ellicent winces away from the voice. It grates her like a razor across her ear, spawns a knot of anxiety deep within her gut. "I'm sorry, sir," she says. "I-"

He punches her in the face. Hard enough to break the skin of her brow. Ellicent tumbles out of her chair, breaking her fall with her still-damaged cybernetic. The arm's metal hisses like a snake who's been stood on.

"How many Space Marines have you killed for me already, huh?"

Ellicent touches her finger to her brow. She stifles another wince.

"How many?!" Severus bellows.

Ellicent swallows bile and blood. "Ten," she murmurs.

"That's right. Ten." Grasping her by the pony tail, Severus hails her to her feet. His own bionic arm whines with the effort. "So tell me, " he spits. "Why the fuck was some trio of damned blue boy-scouts able to best you?"

Ellicent avoids his eye. He hates it when she looks at him. Doing so now would only earn her another punch. "I'm sorry," she says again, even meeker than before.

She can feel Severus' glare boring through her skull. Her scalp is screaming, but she bites her lip against the pain. Show no resistance. Only subservience. Even if you hate it, it is the only way to survive.

With a wordless snarl, Severus throws her to the ground. "Worthless wretch. I invest everything in building you, and you give me nothing in return."

Ellicent sneaks a glance up at him. Running his hand through his long, greasy hair, he wears an exhausted, frustrated scowl. "The Drukhari won't forgive us for this," he says, more to himself than to her. "They'll want to cut ties. Won't wanna risk having the Sons of Guilliman looking their way."

He carries on like this for several minutes. Completely ignoring Ellicent, as if she'd never been in the room in the first place. Ellicent pushes herself up to her knees, but doesn't risk trying to rise. Even without the threat of Severus' wrath, however, she doubts she could stand anyway. Her face aches from the punch, and her head is spinning.

It wasn't him, her mind tells her. Over and over again.

Her heart, however, is not so easily silenced.

But what if it was?

* * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"A Valkyrie is on it's way for Chairon," Titus reports. "Despite appearances, the Apothecary believes he will likely survive."

Gadriel looks up from his hands. For the last hour, he's done nothing but stare at them in silence. He looks past Titus to where their brother lies prone. When the gas charge had detonated, Chairon had caught a piece of debris to the side of the head. It had struck with enough force to sever his helm, break his skin and crack his skull. A sickening mixture of emotions broil within Gadriel at the sight of his brother like this. At the knowledge of who had done it to him.

"Promise me you'll come back."

"I promise."

"Sergeant?"

Gadriel starts. "Forgive me," he says. "That is- that is a relief. Thank the Emperor, indeed."

Titus' expressionless helm stares at Gadriel for several long moments. Gadriel has to stifle the urge to squirm. The lieutenant briefly looks around; after the attack, the fireteam had retreated into a nearby complex, smashing down the windows and taking cover within its walls. Since then, the area has been silent. The only evidence of there ever being a fireifght are the odd tangle of black smoke still spiralling in the air. Satisfied that they are still secure, Titus looks back at Gadriel.

Then, he removes his helm.

The seals around his throat hiss as Titus breaks them, lifting off the helmet before tucking it under his arm. His face is squarer than Gadriel's, with a firmer jaw and a blunt nose. His hair is cropped close to his skull and the pair of silver studs above his right brow indicating his century-long career as an Ultramarine- gleam in the low, polluted light. His is a fierce visage to look upon, there's not doubt about that. But despite that, when he looks at Gadriel now, the only thing fierce about him is the intensity of his worry.

"Forgive me for saying this, brother. But you appear to be distracted. Unsettled, even."

Gadriel's instinct is to lower his gaze. To try and brush the lieutenant off with a snide remark or flat out refusal. Indeed, if they had been having this conversation back on Kadaku, that might have been exactly what he would have done. But much has happened since then. Many things, both good and bad, have passed between him and Titus. As such, the lieutenant has become one of his closest friends.

If anyone might understand, it will be him.

Taking a breath, Gadriel sighs it out through his nose. Removing his own helmet, he sits upon a nearby ledge and sets it on his lap. "That woman," he starts. "I... I know her."

"You've encountered her before?"

Gadriel covers his blush with one hand, feigning the need to rub his nose. "That's one way of putting it."

Titus eyes him carefully. Despite his best efforts, Gadriel can feel himself wilting under the scrutinisation. Titus clasps his helmet to his hip, then walks up to Gadriel to sit beside him. He's leaning forwards elbows braced on his knees. Something about the posture gives Gadriel a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Is she a former ally?" Titus asks quietly.

Gadriel chews his cheek. Shakes his head.

"An enemy, then?"

"No," Gadriel says sharply. "No, she- she was the first one."

"An ally?"

"How much more?"

The word makes him wince. "Yes. But she was..." Throne, how do I even describe it? "She was more than that. A lot of more."

Gadriel bites his cheek. His tongue feels like ash in his mouth. "We were... together. Before I joined the Ultramarines."

Titus nods thoughtfully. "I see."

A beat of silence passed between them. Titus is the one to break it. "Tell me, how long have you served for?"

"As of this cycle? Fifty three years."

Tirus nods again. "That's a long time. Particularly in the eyes of a baseline."

The comment is innocent enough, and in no way untrue. Even so, Gadriel feels his hackles rise. "What are you saying? "

"She tried to kill us, Gadriel. She raised a weapon against the Emperor's Angels. And even if she hadn't, I know you saw the same as I: the particle beams, the necronian cybernetics. That alone is-"

"It's not as simple as that," Gadriel says. He looks down at his hands. "It can't be."

His hands become fists. For the first time this entire interaction, Gadriel looks Titus right in the eye. "I need to talk to her."

"Sergeant-"

"No, listen to me. Ellie would never do this. Never. Severus must be coercing her or have her enslaved."

"Gadriel-"

"She could've killed me back there, at the warehouse. She had her blade at my throat. But she didn't. When she heard me speak, she stopped. She recognised me, Titus. She said my damn name!"

"Gadriel, enough!"

Titus' voice snaps like a whip, cutting Gadriel off mid-breath. The corners of his eyes have hardened slightly, and though he still appear sympathetic, Gadriel can feel exasperation bubbling beneath it. "I understand your frustration, brother. If she were truly falsely accused, you know I would take your side. But we both saw her wielding alien technology. We both saw her bomb wound Chairon and her blade almost kill you." His voice softens. "Whoever she was to you does not change that. It can't."

Gadriel bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. The taste of his own blood is sharp on his tongue. Sharper still is the invisible blade scything away at his heart.

But what if it's all my fault? He wants to say. What if I was reason for whatever terrible thing that brought her here, and if I didn't remedy it, I could not bear to live with myself.

Gadriel says no such thing, however. If he did, all he would get from Titus is more stern sympathy.

That isn't to say that Gadriel remains silent, however. In fact, he's already got his next argument prepared, has for a while. He doesn't know if it will work, and the only thing he does knkw is that, initially at least, it will do nothing but outrage Titus. But Gadriel has no other ideas. He's desperate. And he running out of the time.

"What if it had been your little healer?"

Titus' entire body goes rigid. "What?"

Gadriel clenches his jaw. Both of his hearts pound as if he'd just stepped into a firefight. But he keeps talking. "She was accused of heresy, wasn't she? Her own people tried to kill her. But you saved her."

Titus' nostrils flare as he exhales sharply through his nose. "What relevance does that have here?"

"What relevance?" Gadriel demands. "It is the same thing!"

"My healer was falsely accused."

"You didn't know that when you saved her, though, did you?"

With a crash of ceramite on concrete, Titus is on his feet. "Speak your mind, Sergeant," he growls. "But I warn you; you are on thin ice."

Gadriel steadies his pulses with a slow, deep breath. Then, joining Titus on his feet, he meets the lieutenant's gaze. "If this was your healer," he says. "You would not hesitate in seeking her out. Even if she had attacked us- even if she'd succeeded in killing Chairon and I- you would go to her. You'd want to help her. Or, at the very least, try and talk to her. I know you would, and I know that you know it too, even if you won't admit it. So why won't you allow me to do the same?"

Titus' jaw feathers with tension. Gadriel can practically hear the storm raging behind his eyes. He imagines Titus can see something similar happening behind his own eyes, too. "You know the Codex would absolutely abhor such an action," the lieutenant says quietly.

"I do," Gadriel says. "But the codex is not always right. You taught me that."

For a long time, Titus says nothing. He just stares at Gadriel. Either searching for something within the sergeant's expression or mulling over his own thoughts. Gadriel's hearts roar in his ears. The cut he'd chewed into the side of his cheek has now become an open wound. But he doesn't dare interrupt the Titus' thoughts. Right now, the lieutenant is Gadriel's only hope. By extension, that makes him Ellie's only hope.

Finally, after what feels like a century, Titus opens his mouth. "You're right," he says. "Absolutely, you are right. And as your friend, I wish I could stand by you. But I am not merely your friend, Gadriel. I am also a servant of the Emperor, and I am also your commanding officer." He trails off, but Gadriel can hear what goes unspoken. It makes his throat close over, fills his stomach with rocks. "Titus," he whispers. "Please-"

"I'm sorry, Sergeant. But there is nothing I can do."

Gadriel opens his mouth to argue, but as the first curse word leaves his mouth, the bang of a firearm makes both Astartes turn. Gadriel scoops up his helmet and makes his way over to the window. Above the city skyline, piercing the dying daylight like a sword through armoured plating, a single, scarlet light rises into the sky.

"Is that a flare?" Titus says from Gadriel's side.

Gadriel swallows thickly. There's no way... No way she still has it.

"Yes," he replies.

"But there are no other Imperial forces here."

"It's not Imperial," Gadriel mutters.

Titus looks at the sergeant, confused. It doesn't take long, though, for the pieces to fall into place. "Gadriel-"

But Gadriel is already gone. Slamming his helmet back over his head, locking its objective marker onto the location of the flare, no other thought, feeling or concern in his mind.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Feel like I'm finally cooking now XD part 3 is about to be the scene that I dreamed up that made me wanna write this story in the first place so I am SO HYPED to write it :D

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed <3

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi

[cosmicalily]

"love (and caffeine) on the brain" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist and outline here

month 42: but two though? | fiance!kim seungmin x fem!reader

author's note: as you can tell by the title, this entry is inspired by 'juno' by sabrina carpenter (minus the freakiness). i hope you love this final chapter, and of course there will always be more seungmin content in my oneshots and timestamps!

warnings: pregnancy (giggles mischeviously)

“Hey pretty girl,” Seungmin mumbled into your shoulder, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your jawline, “I’m gonna go to the store; wanna come?”

You rubbed your forehead, downing the glass of water he’d given you mere minutes ago. “Yeah, okay. Maybe some fresh air will help clear my head.”

Seungmin looked at you with his head tilted to the side, an action that your beloved dog, Mini, frequently imitated. “I was just thinking . . . like obviously, you know your body best so I don’t want to assume but . . . are you sure it’s PMS?”

“I mean, it’s the longest fucking PMS I’ve had in a while,” you groaned, rubbing your lower back as you stood up, giving him a crooked smile and pulling on one of his hoodies.

Mini whimpered a little as the two of you closed the door behind you, despite the endless amount of attention he’d received all day.  Once you were settled in the car,  Seungmin rested his hand on your thigh as you hummed to the music, wincing as the pain in your lower back moved in waves of tension.

“You haven’t gotten your period in a while,” Seungmin persisted, giving you a quick glance as he drove, rubbing circles on your knee.

“What a good boyfriend, being so concerned about my hormonal cycle,” you giggled.

“I’m being serious, baby,” Seungmin replied, face concerned.

You turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, you’re not wrong. With all these ongoing symptoms, I’ve been expecting it for a while now. I just assumed that it would show up eventually.”

“Two months,” Seungmin replied, pulling into the parking lot of the grocery store and hopping out of the car, opening the door for you like he usually did and helping you out.

“Seung, you’ve been counting?”

He shrugged, grabbing a trolley and holding the list in between his teeth. “I’m your boyfriend, I notice when something’s off.”

“You’re not my boyfriend, stupid, didn’t you propose to me?” you lightly slapped him on the arm, and his expression of concern faltered for a little, his mouth moving into an automatic smile at the memory.

“Fiance, whatever,” he replied, gently elbowing you back, then slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans.

Your eyes widened. “Wait, two whole months?” 

“Yeah . . . do you think . . .” Seungmin shoved the list into his pocket, looking at you. “Like . . .”

You paused in the aisle, mentally calculating everything that you’d experienced throughout the past few months. “Oh my God, I think you might be right.”

Seungmin didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hand and abandoned the empty trolley, leading you towards the medication aisle. You looked through shelves until you reached the end. Next to the pads and tampons Seungmin hadn’t bought you in so long was a selection of pregnancy tests.

“Do you care which one we get? I don’t really know if there’s a difference,” Seungmin asked, looking through the boxes. 

“Just get whichever one’s quickest. I don’t mind,” you replied, heart thumping hard in your chest.

Weekly groceries forgotten, the two of you headed to the cashier with two boxes and his hand in yours.

That was when you realised that even if you weren’t pregnant now, you most definitely wanted to be.

Because Seungmin would be the best dad you could ever imagine.

“C’mere, sweet girl, just leave it for a little while, then we can check,” Seungmin pulled you gently by your waist, briefly removing your focus from the white test sitting on the bathroom countertop. He’d set a timer on his phone, and knew that the seconds would take much longer if you both simply watched the piece of plastic’s little screen, yet neither of you could really draw your attention away.

“Are you . . . Seung, if . . . if it is . . . what do you want to do?” you sobbed into his shoulder, suddenly overcome with emotion.

“I’ll do whatever you want to do. It’s your body, baby,” Seungmin replied, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. “If you don’t think we’re ready, that’s fine. If you wanna keep the baby, that’s fine too. If you change your mind in a year and  suddenly decide you don’t ever want kids at all, I’ll be a little bummed, but I don’t care, as long as I have you, and as long as you’re happy.  It’s your decision, and I support it.”

You stared up at him, eyes like pools of wet ink. “I think . . . I wanna keep it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Seungmin’s eyes shifted into crescents, pressing kisses onto your forehead. “But if you really don’t, I-”

“No, Min, I do, I know I do.”

“Okay,” Seungmin mumbled into your neck.

He felt a buzz in his left pocket. The timer. You didn’t want to pull yourself away from his arms, feeling so comforted by him that you didn’t really care about the answer on the test anymore. Whatever the case was, he was your safe space, and you knew, just by the way he reacted and cared for you throughout all those years you’d been together, that he was the best partner you could ask for.

“Baby . . . you might want to look.”

You reluctantly removed your face from the crook of his shoulder and stared at the two lines that were set across the screen of the test.

“Oh my god . . . oh my GOD!” You gasped, grabbing the test out of his hands and holding it to your eye, before tossing it back onto the counter and shoving yourself back into Seungmin’s embrace. Tears of joy prickled at your eyes, and you felt his own start to dampen the top of your hair.

“You’re perfect,” Seungmin murmured. “You’re so strong. I’m so in awe of you and what your body is doing, I hope you know that.”

“It was you who seemed to know my body better than I do,” you chuckled softly, leaning in to press a long, sweet kiss to his lips.

“You’d be surprised by how much I’ve actually adored your hormonal clinginess, you big baby.”

“Shut up. I love you.”

“I love you too. Both of you,” Seungmin beamed, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach, before taking your hand in his and gently pulling you on top of him onto the soft bathmat.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @zelinkcrossing @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @nappynapnaps @yaniluvs @bellarellasstuff @btch8008s @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger @woozarts - send an ask, comment or dm to be added!

[storiesandthoughtsf1]

Love for the race (desire for the chase) - Chapter 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x teammate!reader

Summary: Pre-season testing couldn't come fast enough, because you had finally made it to Formula 1. It was everything you had ever wanted, nothing was going to ruin your mood now. Not even your idiotic teammate.

Warnings: Max being an asshole ngl lol, christian horner unfortunately because I need the team principal for the storyline

Word count: 1,3K

Author's notes: Welcome to my new enemies to lovers series!! I can't wait to share this story with you guys I really love what I have so far! Chapters will for sure get longer from now on, this was just the start to set the mood. Please note that this is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. Not all characters are real, because I don't know the rbr team enough for that lol. Your race engineer Robin might also low-key be based on Robin Scherbatsky, because I was watching himym while I was working on this :) Also please note that English isn’t my first language!

If just you had known what your first year racing in Formula 1 would be like. How you bit by bit had to realise what you had thought maybe hadn’t been the whole truth. But there was one thing you knew for sure, Max Verstappen was one complicated man.

Wednesday, 21st February 2024Bahrain International Circuit, Sahkir, Bahrain

The whole circus that was Formula 1 was finally back, new rookies, plenty of familiar faces, and everyone in between filling the pitlane and paddock. The Red Bull garage was buzzing with life once again, pre-season testing finally having started up. The big change for them? Max Verstappen had gotten a new teammate. But it wasn’t just any new teammate, no, it was the first woman the sport had seen in decades. A 24 year old woman that Red Bull had gotten a hold of over the winter, as she had shown great promise in the feeder series. You. And you very well knew this year wouldn’t be easy, far from it actually. Not only as the first woman in too long, but also as Max Verstappen’s teammate. The reputation Red Bull had wasn’t subtle, and you knew it would be a challenge to drive alongside the Dutchman. But a challenge you couldn’t wait for. 

Today was your first day in the car. You had just finished your first long stint, the car parked in the garage. As you climbed out of the car, you still felt the adrenaline rush course through you. Your very first time on track in this year’s Formula 1 car, and it had felt beyond anything you had ever imagined. Faster than you had ever imagined. You exited the car with a huge smile on your face, slowly beginning to take off your helmet so you could go debrief with your race engineer Robin. 

The sight of the entire garage moving around in sync made you smile, the disbelief of you actually having made it to Formula 1 still apparent. Yet here you were, with your whole team. Your team. You looked around as you walked towards Robin, and saw your team principal Christian Horner stand in the garage too. Right beside your teammate.

Max was seated on a chair in front of the screens that showed your lap time data. As you pulled off your helmet you caught the sight of him, his arms crossed as he stared at the screen in front of him with a harsh look on his face. But you tore your eyes off of him, figuring he must be looking at some data.

  “She’s fast.” One of the engineers said with an impressed look on his face, nodding approvingly at your lap times. The triumph on your face had been unmistakable as you had stepped out of your car, and in fact you didn’t need anyone to tell you that you had nailed it, because you very well knew. Everyone knew. 

Max’s leg bounced rapidly as he sat on the chair, arms crossed and his jaw locked tight. He had never been the type to give away much through his facial expressions, but the way his eyes lingered now on the data screens told a different story. 

So while the garage buzzed with activity and chatter from the mechanics and engineers, you were so caught up in it that you hadn’t seen the look on your teammate’s face that brought a deep contrast to the rest of the people there. You were focused on the electric atmosphere that your last stint had formed, smiling at your mechanics who all greeted you with comments of approval. Totally unaware of how the sight of you soaking in that praise, your head held high with that infectious smile, itched him like a splinter he couldn’t ignore. 

  “Fast doesn’t mean ready.” The words left his lips before he could stop them, or even think of what he had just uttered. Even though they were directed at the engineer seated right beside him, the engineer who had called you fast to begin with, his comment had been loud enough to catch the attention of others. Most importantly, you. 

Suddenly all sound in the garage died out. Like everything came to a halt as if time stood still. Your head turned to look in Max’s direction, watching how he still looked at the screen in front of him.. His brows were furrowed, arms still crossed, with his legs spread widely apart. You, halfway through pulling off your last glove, paused in your steps as you glanced at him. Taking in the weight of his remark. 

  “Sorry, what was that?” You spoke up, much to just about everyone’s surprise. The tension in the garage was heavy now, as if everyone were holding their breath. Waiting to see what would happen next.

Max finally glanced your way, his expression sharp and clearly unapologetic. He leaned back in his chair, vaguely gesturing at the screen in front of him. It made your blood boil.

  “You heard me. Quick lap times don’t mean much when you’re all over the place in the corners like that. You’re lucky it’s testing, not a race.” His voice was cold, blue eyes piercing their way straight into your soul. Your stomach twisted at his words, but you fought to keep your expression neutral. This was your very first day, and you weren’t about to get on everyone’s bad side for getting into a fight with their reigning world champion. Even when he acted disrespectfully.

  “I didn’t feel lucky out there, just fast.” You said, your pulse loud in your ears. Yet your exterior was kept calm, and while your words were indeed stern, they didn’t display anger. “I’m not here to give you an easy time, and I’m not afraid to push harder”

The workers around you exchanged uneasy glances at the situation unfolding right in front of them. Max moved in his seat on the chair, leaning further back and resting his one elbow on the armrest. He shrugged.

  “Being fast won’t do you any good when it matters. You’ll push too hard, make mistakes, and then what? The rest of the team, we have to clean up your mess just because you wanted to be reckless?” His words were meant to hurt now, like a spike boring its way into your chest repeatedly. Your jaw tightened, slowly feeling the anger bubble up inside of you, no matter how much you tried to keep it at bay. You told yourself it was stupid to fuel the fire, but at the same time you did not want him to walk all over you. Wanted to show that you were here to be taken seriously, and not just bow down to him. 

  “Good thing I’m not gonna make any then.” You shrugged at him as you spoke, trying to keep your cool and controlled facade. It was obvious that your words stirred something in Max, his lips pressed into a thin line, icy blue eyes narrowed. For a moment it looked like he was about to respond, to further complicate matters, but that was when Christian Horner seemed to come to his senses, and decide to put an end to this.

He physically stepped in between the two of you in the most Team Principal way he possibly could, putting his hands up to tell you to back off. “Alright that’s enough, both of you.” He looked pointedly at Max first, then turned his eyes to you and to the same, his frustration evident. 

He kept his eyes on you as he spoke up again. “Good run. Go debrief with Robin.” It was clear his words weren’t up for discussion, it was an outright demand. You nodded, walking over to your engineer, Christian turning his attention to the Dutchman.

  “You’re up next, let’s focus on the car, not each other please.” Horner said sternly, not moving until Max had shown he had understood and gone to get ready. But not before he had sent an extra look your way with narrowed eyes. The blood boiling in his body. 

The silence in the garage remained for a moment longer before the activity came back to life, the tension reduced to a lingering shadow.

But still, this wasn’t something you were about to just let go. You thought his comments had been outright disrespectful, and they bothered you deep inside of you. There was one thing you knew for sure.

That was the day you swore you despised Max Verstappen.

———————————————

Thank you so much for reading this first chapter. Can't wait to share more with you! Feedback is always much appreciated!<3

[unacknowledgeable]

For the SK reader series, will the reader get a love interest?? Because there's something so dark yet hypnotic when u find someone who doesn't want you to change, they accept you as you are, worms and all. Something akin to Hannibal and Will Graham if you get me.

Anyways, just wanted to say your series is so addictive and I can't wait to read more!

Y’know, I've thought about love interests so much this week, because ppl seem very interested in me introducing one and I genuinely can't decide which one I like the most, because I find them all utterly hilarious. 

For the “so what are we” Gothamite, think Mikasa from DeathNote lol. Those are the major vibes I'm getting from them, and I just jotted down some conversations I imagined. I'll just call them the ‘Near Victim Interest’ lol. 

SK!Reader: “I will rip your intestines out through your mouth and dance the night away with them lining my neck”

NV!Interest: “Oh dear god…Baby you promise?”

SK!Reader: “...What?” NV!Interest: “What?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: “That is the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

SK!Reader: “I literally said I was going to split your head in half starting at the throat.”

NV!Interest: “Yeah, exactly.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: “Haha, sweetie is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see- oh i've been impaled.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: (Laid out on the embalming table, having gotten into readers work place) “paint me like one of your crime scenes”

SK!Reader: “How… did you get in here?”

NV!Interest: “Oh the commissioner let me in once I told him we’re dating! Gordy’s so nice, right?”

SK!Reader: “Wha- Gordy?? Wait- we’re NOT dating! I don't even know you!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway, one of the other “love interests” I've thought about was someone within the same Elite circles as SK!Readers “Mini-Brucie” persona. 

They’ll probably end up looking at this ditzy, airheaded, charismatic moron and, for just a second, catches a glimpse of how truly calculated the twitch of your lips are, how your eyes flash in cold fury at the touch of hands dragging you around the room, how the precise snap of your words works the room in your favor, intricately crafting every conversion you’ve been dragged into under your control, but never to the center stage.  In the blink of an eye, it’s all gone and they’re left thinking, ‘oh I could make you so much worse.’

 This person basically wants to groom the reader into the next “big bad” of Gotham, or maybe into joining The Court, without realizing just how far off the deep end SK!Reader already is. It’s like trying to teach someone the alphabet, while not knowing they can already read at a college level. 

They want to mold you into the perfect mastermind, able to rival the likes of Batman on wits alone, and wish to chisel at your marbled potential so that they may unleash their magnum opus upon the unwitting populace of Gotham. 

But… you just aren't interested in using your intellect for more than what you are now. You're quite content with operating as you have been, thank you very much. You have no intention of disrupting your meticulously maintained status quo. So, it's safe to say that this is getting proceedingly more frustrating on both sides. This person thinks you're putting all your potential to waste, unaware just how capable you really are, meanwhile you're trying to get this pompous asshole off your back so you can continue business as usual.

And my last love interest idea was diving more into the Jinx aspects of SK!Reader and going full TimeBomb lmaooo 

~Masterlist~

[jadeazora]

PLZA Wishlist/Hopes, gonna divvy it up between both, past, and present/future:

Both:

Obtainable AZ's Floette

At least one new Zygarde forme. Imagine if it could go beyond Complete.

An underground area based on the catacombs (doesn't have to be mass grave tho)

Hostile rogue Megas being our rampaging Noble equivalent

Bring over (at least most of) the ORAS Megas

More Kalosian Megas, or potentially re-introducing Battle Bond as a "pure variant" of it (especially since Mega Evolution was mentioned to have terrible effects on the Pokemon.)

Yveltal being a threat to the city at large at some point, with a team-up with Xerneas to corral it.

AZ getting more story importance.

Letter "A" Legendary Pokemon, perhaps based on one of the Kalos League statues?

Past:

Malva, Sycamore, Lysandre, and Diantha ancestors (I feel like Sycamore or Malva's ancestor has the highest probability of being our main villain)

I feel like it's more likely to get his Floette here? It's gonna be a hundred and something years till it returns to him, we can look after it in the meantime!

Old starters getting new regional forms a la PLA

Going more into depth about the discovery and origins of Mega Evolution.

More lore on the war from 3000 years ago.

Future:

Set maybe a couple decades after XY at most rather than the far future. (Descendants would be cool, but I'm more interested in the characters we actually know tbh.)

Sina and Dexio sharing a joint professor role since they give you the Zygarde Cube in the Alola games. They could potentially carry on that research.

Vastly expands outside of the Lumiose we had in XY, further into Kalos. (I always wanted to explore the ruins of the Ultimate Weapon.)

Villain Sycamore or Malva. Or both. Like I said when I brought this up before, I don't think Sycamore would be evil, just misguided and let his guilt get the better of him. Malva is still more of a villain, and we need more lady main villains in this series. It's only really been Lusamine and Sada (if you played Scarlet), but this girl had hella potential in XY, and it's always been super frustrating to me that she got so little screentime.

The Flare scientist girls too! The only one of them that really got any slight fleshing out was Xerosic.

Diantha gets more story importance. She's another character who got majorly shafted in XY and deserves another chance!

Kalos starters with new Megas, secondary Kanto or Hoenn starters.

Potentially canonize Lysandre's survival from Masters here. It would be neat to see him get stuck with the same immortality curse AZ has, condemning him to live in and adapt to the world he lost faith in.

What are some of the things you all want to see? 😄

[thefandomsfervent]

JayVik x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 23) - Transparent Earth Yellow

Gala chapter coming soooon <3

Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

not that I'm losing steam with this fic, but it has inpsired so many other things that i want to write too. This fic may enter a hiatus after a few more chapters so I can start other projects. Stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

As Mel said, there was an invitation later that week. A rich blue envelope and a golden wax seal delivered on top of a series of letters and books when Jayce walked into the lab. Viktor was first to see it, peeling the wax open with a screwdriver. He huffed as he read it, tossing the paper to the side. 

“Ridiculous,” muttering under his breath. “We should not go Jayce, we have more important work to do than to flaunt our feathers.” Viktor speaks clearer there, his words sharp when he points to Jayce with the tool in his hand. Jayce doesn’t respond right away. Instead he goes to look at the invitation himself. 

“To Talis and Co.,” He winces at that, his lips curling to the side and his brow furrowing. 

“You have been invited to the Innovator’s Gala, an event centered around Piltover’s finest and brightest minds.” Jayce is reading it to you, as much disdain and sarcasm as that man could truly try to muster lacing his words. His finger pointed in the air like he is imitating some elderly man. 

“Yes Jayce, I read it.” Viktor’s back is to you both when he speaks. “Help me with this equation.” He doesn’t see the way Jayce’s finger droops down, shoulders dramatically slumping. You can’t hide your giggle at Jayce’s pout. Viktor turns around at the sound, just in time to see you covering your mouth. Shaking your head when Jayce starts mimicking his partner, opening and closing his hand. He turns around to see Viktor’s deadpan face, a raised brow, and a smirk that only grows when your laughter gets louder. 

“Mocking Jayce. How unbecoming. Truly, I am wounded.” He gestures for Jayce to give you the invitation with one hand, and tilts his head back to the board. Jayce hands you the paper, fingers grazing your own. He was so warm, and you can only hope that the burning of your cheeks could be chalked up to your laughing. He’s stifling his own when he joins Viktor, letting his partner jokingly shove the chalk into his chest. 

It’s a thick parchment, barely holding itself open at the creases where it had been folded to fit into the envelope. Golden filigree at the corners and the symbol of Piltover embossed directly in the center top. It was good paper, expensive like all things were here. Viktor’s chalky fingerprints glinting softly as raised swirls around the edges. Jayce’s own were left in some barely there soot from his time in the forge that day. And now yours, in colorful pressed oils. It clashed against the paper, was too loud, if you had intended to leave a mark you would have chosen something more subtle. Instead of focusing on that you look over the words scrawled over the letter. 

Your eyes quickly skim over text. It would be held in The Academy’s own event hall as a pre–cursor to the Young Innovator’s Competition that would be happening later on in the year for different inventors of Runterra to converge at. Despite what Mel had said, it seemed that it wouldn’t be where they would need to show off new inventions, but to mingle and talk and garner interest. The idea of them both in something nicer than mandated Academy outfits did sound promising. Imagining them in another environment than the lab, what would that be like? The closest you had been to seeing that was when Jayce had gotten drunk off the wine they chose to keep in a cabinet of the lab. You almost put down the letter to get back to your own work when something catches your eye. Thick golden letters in a different font, also embossed to make them stand out against the pale paper, gracing the bottom.

“This invitation is valid for three guests. Jayce Talis of House Talis, Assistant to the Dean of the Academy Viktor, and -” your name was there. The title they had given you was “Arts Institute Guest.” And something bubbles up in your chest. It was embarrassment and shock. It was anxiety and excitement. Mostly confusion. Their labels were so impressive, although you were sure they would both dislike the chosen words. Your own was so… plain. You were here as a guest after all, you knew that. But then why were you invited in the first place? Was this Mel’s doing? Would they want you to go? Did they even want to go? You brush a thumb over the words, silently questioning the characters as if they had any of the answers. All you get in reply is the printed date, the numbers defined in thin strokes. It was about three weeks out. The competition itself was several months away. The two men are talking amongst themselves. Drag of chalk along the board, the tapping on someone’s foot, gentle shuffling. Sounds that ground you. 

You turn to the painting, you had left it by an open window to speed up the drying process. Summer was chasing Spring. Telltale signs of the season showing in heat waves distorting the horizon line as you looked out over the city. You let yourself settle against the frame, back on the wall and legs stretched forward. You hold the paper in one hand up to the window, letting the sun shine through the fibers. Letting the rays backlight the golden embellishments, turning that brilliant yellow to a dull glowing brown. You can see where the paper is thicker in some spots. It was smooth and high quality, but you can tell. “This was hand-made.” Your voice is quiet, and you are too focused on the craftsmanship before you to notice how Viktor and Jayce stop working to watch you. Your fingers feel the edges of the paper, deckled and soft, barely there fraying. 

Viktor has talked with Jayce about it before, how it was not fair that there was no one to draw you. And in this particular moment it feels cruel. The moment felt intimate. Domestic. The edge of your face golden in the sunlight, eyes focused and calm, a rosy glow on your cheeks. Jayce has dabbled in sketching before. Shared his own small drawing of Viktor from their first encounters. It was crude, cute even. And Jayce would admit that he has tried to draw you too.  But he couldn’t show that to you or to Viktor. So he takes the moment in, watching your eyes dart over the paper in your hand. Your attention to detail was endearing to him. To both of them. His affection for Viktor was overwhelming in a lot of ways. Caused his heart to jump to his throat, to stutter over words. With you it was warm and soft, like a hug. What either of them would give to walk behind you wrap their arms around you, settling their heads in the crook of your neck. When you start moving it startles them both, Jayce jumping in his spot and Viktor choosing to look at the books on the table. 

Staring at the paper you hear Mel’s words, “Afraid of a challenge?” If she was the reason your name was on the invitation, you should go. Just to get out of this stuffy lab and do something new if nothing else. Certainly not to prove a point. That there was nothing you needed to be aware of. And that despite your nervousness, you do not back down from a challenge. Not as a Zaunite. Not as an artist. You set your shoulders, steel your breath, and turn to Jayce and Viktor. 

“I’d like to go.” 

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

--.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 22-.-Next Part will be linked here.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .--

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[atzloverr]

Our unsaid truths - chapter 2

previous chapter - next chapter

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pairings: poly!ateez x reader, atz x atz

cw: polyamory, teasing, mentions of sex, jealousy, use of Y/n, reader is flustered lol, that’s like it, I know this is really short but I promise next chapter will have more!!!!

The sun had just begun to peek through the curtains when you started to stir awake. An unknown but comfortable warmth surrounded you, and it took a few seconds for your sleep-fogged mind to register why you felt so… crowded.

Wooyoung’s arm was slung lazily over your stomach, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, while Seonghwa’s leg was tangled with yours, his deep and even breathing tickling your shoulder. You stared up at the ceiling, your heart beating faster than it should for someone who had just woken up.

The events of last night hit you like a truck.

“Oh my god…” you whispered under your breath. You tried shifting slightly, but Wooyoung pulled you closer to him, groaning softly in his sleep. Your cheeks burned as you realized the position you were currently in: pinned in between the two.

“Morning, beautiful.”

Seonghwa’s voice was smooth, carrying a teasing lilt as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes. His hair was disheveled, and the smirk on his face made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Before you could respond, a soft yawn escaped Wooyoung, his body stretching slightly against yours. You averted your attention towards him. He looked up at you and grinned. “Morning, gorgeous.” His voice was husky from sleep.

“Um… good morning,” you stammered with a small smile, feeling heat creep up your neck.

It was surreal, waking up sandwiched between two men who now seemed equally interested in you. As the moment stretched on, you started to wonder what this would mean for your relationship with not just Seonghwa and Wooyoung, but with the rest of the boys as well. You bit your lip anxiously at the thought.

The worst thing you could imagine was ruining something that was so perfect between them, so perfect between you and Seonghwa.

”Whatcha thinking about sweetie?” you heard Seonghwa ask, snapping you out of your dazed state of deep thought. You simply shook your head. ”Nothing special.”

Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchanged looks, was your lie too obvious? ”Whatever, I’m hungry,” Wooyoung said before groaning loudly, finally letting you go to stretch out his entire body.

”Will you let me borrow your clothes, hyung?” Wooyoung said, trying his best to use his puppy eyes, a large pout on his lips.

Seonghwa sighed but eventually gave in with a tired ’sure’. You figured he probably didn’t want Wooyoung to walk out completely naked. The thought made you pause.

Would the others know what went down last night? You knew the walls weren’t exactly thick, but would you have to walk out to being humiliated this morning? You decided to speak your mind, worry brimming within you.

”Do you think they’ll know? I mean, not that there would be anything wrong with that, but—” you stammered nervously. ”Hmm, maybe,” Wooyoung giggled, getting dressed in one of Seonghwa’s sweatpants.

”I don’t know baby, but I’m sure they won’t mind if they do know,” Seonghwa reassured. You sighed in relief at those words. It was sometimes as if Seonghwa knew exactly what you needed to hear and when.

You quickly threw on one of Seonghwa’s shirts, not bothering to put on pants, before the three of you started to make your way to the dining area. As you heard the sound of voices from the kitchen, you felt nervousness starting to creep up on you. Seonghwa’s comforting hand on the small of your back sure helped though.

As you entered the kitchen, you were greeted by the sight of Hongjoong and Yeosang cooking something by the stove, as well as some of the other guys spread out around the room.

“Well, well, good morning, Y/n,” Hongjoong greeted, his lips curving into a smirk. Yeosang gave you a knowing look, one brow raised as if he already had several jokes lined up.

“Morning,” you said, trying to sound natural, avoiding their gazes, pulling down the shirt to somewhat cover yourself.

“I see someone’s had an eventful night,” Yeosang said lightly, eyes focused on the food he was cooking. His words made you freeze, heat rising to your cheeks.

Before you could reply, Wooyoung’s voice chimed in from where he was standing by the fridge, getting some yogurt. “Why do you sound so jealous, Yeosang?” He said with a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Jealous? Of what, you being the loudest person in the building?” Yeosang shot back. You swallowed, feeling the embarrassment inside you grow for every word and glance the two exchanged.

“Loud?” Mingi suddenly piped up from the table. You turned your head to see his face filled with faux innocence. “Oh, they were definitely loud.”

You groaned and sank into the nearest chair, burying your face in your hands. “Can we change the subject?” you pleaded.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Wooyoung teased, sliding into the seat next to you with his yogurt in hand. “I think we made a great team last night.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat aggressively made everyone pause. Seonghwa stood up, his expression calm but his voice sharp. “Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung cowered slightly, glancing at him sheepishly. “What? I’m just saying—”

“Don’t make her uncomfortable.”

Seonghwa’s tone left no room for argument, and Wooyoung held up his hands in surrender, though the playful glint in his eyes remained.

“Sooo, Y/n,” Jongho said casually, trying to break the awkward silence that had come to be. “Are you planning to make your rounds with the rest of us, or are you sticking with these two?”

You choked on your own breath, flabbergasted by his question. You felt your cheeks burning hotter for each second that passed. “Jongho!”

“What? It’s a valid question,” he said with a shrug. You heard Yeosang giggle at the man’s words.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, sinking further into your chair.

Yunho entered the room then, his hair messy from sleep and eyes still not completely open. “What’s unbelievable?” he asked, walking up to Mingi who had already prepared a cup of coffee for him.

“Y/n’s, well… expanding her social circle,” Mingi quipped, earning a chorus of laughter from almost everyone.

Yunho glanced between you, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung, piecing the situation together almost immediately.

His expression softened as he set his mug down and came to stand beside you, gently patting your head. “Don’t let them tease you too much,” he said kindly.

You gave him a grateful smile, only for him to add with a wink, “You’ll need your energy for the rest of us anyway.”

The room erupted into laughter, and you groaned. “I swear,” you glanced at the amused faces around you, “you’re all going to drive me insane.”

As breakfast continued and everyone eventually sat down by the table, you felt as if something was slightly off, or rather, someone.

You looked over to San, who silently ate his breakfast, and a thought struck you. He hadn’t uttered a single word this entire morning, which was very unlike him. He would always cling to someone, that someone usually being Wooyoung or Yeosang, but today, he seemed distant.

While the teasing had dialed down, Yeosang and Jongho still left some remarks about how much they heard and how they couldn’t sleep, but every time when the table erupted into laughter, you saw San sitting there, not even cracking a smile.

You were seated in between Seonghwa and Yunho, at the same spot you would usually sit at, and Yunho seemed to notice that you were deep in thought about something. ”What’s up?” he silently asked, making you blink when you returned to reality. ”Huh?”

Yunho giggled at your confusion, before a comforting smile coated his lips. ”What are you thinking about?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked around, and everyone was still caught up in their own conversations. ”Is San alright?” you almost whispered. You made it look casual though, not wanting someone to ask what you guys were talking about.

”Oh, so you noticed too huh?” Yunho smiled, pulling his hand through his hair. ”Hmm, I think he might be a little jealous, that’s all,” Yunho said quietly, still smiling widely.

”Jealous?” you echoed, starting to feel worried all over again. ”Don’t worry, Y/n. He gets like that sometimes, and you haven’t done anything wrong,” Yunho comforted, his hand rubbing circles into your shoulder. You took a deep breath while nodding, hoping that Yunho’s words were true.

”Who’s on dish-duty?” Hongjoong asked, grabbing everyones attention. You silently volunteered, but was immediately shot down by everyone else saying that you shouldn’t. ”You had a rough night, don’t you think you should rest?” Jongho said with a wink, making you roll your eyes before finally leaving the kitchen, still feeling flustered by the events.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A few hours later you found yourself outside of their house, Seonghwa’s arms wrapped tightly around you. Seonghwa always got pouty when you were going back to your place. He wished you could always stay with them, but he also understood that you might want some alone time, where you’re not constantly the ”ninth wheel.”

He never wanted you to feel that way, and although you assured him that you didn’t, he still noticed that you still hesitated before staying at their house, even though he tried to assure you that you weren’t a burden.

”Hey, how are you feeling about all of this? With Wooyoung and everything? I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to talk it through,” Seonghwa said, his hand rubbing your shoulders. You sighed heavily.

”I don’t know… I don’t want to complicate things for you guys, you know? I don’t know what they all expect from me now and—” Seonghwa noticed the shift in your emotions, and it made his heart ache.

”Shh, baby,” he brushed your hair away from your face, looking deep into your eyes. ”Take your time. There’s no rush into anything that you might not be ready for,” he reassured, placing a small kiss on your cheek. ”Just do what feels right.”

You nodded, feeling at ease from his comforting words. You placed a hand on his shoulder before kissing his lips. He pushed deeply into you, not wanting the moment to end. ”Call me anytime,” he reminded, watching you pick up your bags to leave.

”You’re leaving!?” the intimate moment was suddenly cut off by Wooyoung’s voice as he came scrambling out the door. You raised your eyebrows with a smile at his panicked expression.

”It’s not like I live here, I’m just going to my apartment, that’s all,” you laughed as Wooyoung wrapped you in a hug as if you were never going to see him again. ”You’ll come back right?” he asked, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

You ruffled his hair with your hand, finding his face adorably funny. ”Pf course I will.”

You were about to take off when Wooyoung opened his mouth again. ”A—And Y/n?” you looked back. ”Can I kiss you too?”

Your eyes widened slightly at the question, as you immediately looked at Seonghwa. The reaffirming smile on his face told you everything you needed to know. ”Yes.”

And with that Wooyoung rushed towards you to give you a short but sweet kiss on the lips, before you finally made your way to your car.

On the way home, you thought about everything that had happened. It felt so surreal, to now receive the same kind of affection that your only used to from Seonghwa, from Wooyoung too.


Maybe you had liked him this whole time, but you were just too scared to make a first move. Maybe you had liked them all this whole time, you couldn’t tell. But once you parked your car in your driveway, you had made one thing clear for yourself. You were more than happy to expand this relationship, however far it would eventually do so.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you’re excited for a brand new series!!! Love you guys💕

taglist: @wooyoungsbrat @dawn-iscozy @fairy-jojo

those who requested a part 2: @nightcat101 @oreoqueen @the-belching-toe @stolasisyourparent @freyaphoria

tell me if you want to join the taglist!!!💕 part 3 is already written and will be posted very soon!

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