#like if i respond they’ll look back and be like ��……maybe it wasn’t that good actually’

[yoonguurt]

Pairing: non idol Jihoon x F!reader

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint, smut

Trope: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers

Word Count: 5,088 

Trigger Warnings: none

Summary: Jihoon always joins in when his group of friends makes fun of Mingyu for being a simp for his girlfriend. It isn’t that he thinks that a man shouldn’t go above and beyond for their significant other, it’s just that he hasn’t had a girlfriend that makes him want to go that far. Maybe one day, though.

A/N: This is for @ddeonghwa-s secret cupid event! Surpise @strawberry-skiess I'm your cupid! This honestly was hard to start, but once I started I just couldn't stop. I hope you enjoy it! Happy Valentine's Day (even though I'm a day late) Thanks to @kwanisms for this lovely little banner. I love it so much. This is for adults only, no minors allowed! I will fight you.

Read all of the other wonderful entries here

Smut Warnings: slight nipple play, dom!Jihoon, sub!reader, fingering, oral (f receiving) unprotected sex (do not), maybe two thigh slaps

“Well, if it isn’t the simp of the century.” Jeonghan’s voice floats through Jihoon’s ears and he looks to the door as Mingyu walks in. Over the last couple of months, calling their group giant a simp has become something of a ritual. They don’t mean it, they honestly think it’s adorable how whipped Mingyu is. And he certainly isn’t ashamed of it. He wears the title like a badge of honor. “Still single and bitchy, I see.” Mingyu’s retort is almost immediate, a cheshire grin adorning his face as he watches the rest of the group burst into laughter and Jeonghan’s face turn into a mix between a smirk and a scowl. 

Jihoon retreats into his thoughts while his friends chatter amongst themselves. He does think it’s sweet how much Mingyu loves his girlfriend, he just isn’t sure that he understands. Sure, he’s had a few relationships of his own, and while he cared about them, even loved one or two, he has never known the amount of love Mingyu seems to wield. His friend found his self described love of his life around 4 months ago and he’s been head over heels the entire time. Jihoon has watched Mingyu rush to get to his phone when he gets a text, with a special ringtone for his girlfriend, and smile like an idiot at whatever it is she has said.

He’s lived through Mingyu leaving nights at the bar solely because his girl wanted to cuddle. When her birthday came around, the two men spent hours going through unlimited stores while Mingyu tried to find the perfect present. Every time Jihoon suggested something, Mingyu had a retort on why it wasn’t good enough. The new cd by her favorite band? “I don’t have enough time to get it signed.” The pretty pink purse that screamed something his girlfriend would like? “I already got her that one.” Eventually, the tall man had settled on a necklace that Jihoon was certain cost more than a used car. Mingyu had the money to throw around, he guessed. 

Part of Jihoon wants to know what it’s like to feel like that. Another part thinks that it seems like a burden. He can’t decide where he stands on the topic. Sure, he wants that great love that novels describe, wants to give his heart to someone and know that they’ll always be there. But at the same time, he isn’t sure he’ll find someone that can deal with his finicky moods. There are times when he wants someone to cuddle, only to immediately change his mind. He knows that can be annoying, and he is working on it. One of his other issues is time. He takes his job seriously. 

Working as a producer, he is a busy man. He doesn’t know if there’s a person out there that will understand that sometimes, he loses himself in his work. His phone drifts to the back of his mind, dates forgotten without him meaning to. It’s the main reason his relationships have failed. He genuinely doesn’t mean to, and it’s another thing he has been working on. He’s been getting better at responding to his friends in a timely manner, he’s even taken to setting alarms on his phones so he doesn’t miss the planned hangouts. Sure, he still falls into the music and forgets the world around him, but he’s getting better.

There has always been an exception, though. You. His best friend. The two of you have known each other for years, having met in freshman year of college. Your sunny disposition sometimes clashed with the grumpy facade he puts on, but it’s always worked. A couple of his exes thought there was something going on between the two of you, but that’s never been the case. He just clicks with you. You understand him. You’re a busy woman, too. The journalism world stops for no one. 

“Isn’t that right, Jihoon?” He snaps head up toward the voice. Soonyoung looks at him expectantly, obviously waiting for him to agree with him. “Sorry, what?” The huff of air that comes from Soonyoung’s mouth lets him know how annoyed his friend is. “I said that it’s cute that Mingyu loves his girl so much, isn’t that right?” Honestly, he doesn’t know how to answer this. “Sure, it’s cute, but it seems exhausting.” The sound of a scoff comes from behind him and he turns to the sound. He hadn’t realized that you were here. He suddenly feels like he said something wrong, like when a teacher calls on you to answer in class and you fumble and answer wrong. It’s embarrassing for some reason. “So what I’m hearing is that you would find caring for your partner that much to be an inconvenience?” Everyone’s eyes flit between you and Jihoon, waiting for a debate to start. The two of you have always been like that. You’re able to have a small, argumentative conversation and then go back to joking like it never happened. 

Jihoon sighs deeply, knowing where this is going. “That’s not what I said.” His tone lets you know just how annoyed at having a conversation like this again. “I’m just saying that Mingyu’s level of simpdom sounds like a bit much. I’m happy he has someone that he loves so much, but being at her beck and call constantly sounds tiring.” Mingyu responds before you can even open your mouth. “That isn’t how it is.” His tone isn’t defensive in any way. He just sounds like he’s explaining something to a child. “She doesn’t ask me to do any of that. She actually encourages me to have fun with you guys. I just feel so happy that I have her and I want to make sure she knows that.” 

Jihoon stays silent for a moment, thinking over Mingyu’s words. He thinks to himself, wandering again if he’s ever had something like that. He thinks the closest thing he’s had is you. He’s dropped more things that he can count to be at your side when you need him. He’s even dipped on girlfriends because you were upset. Once, he canceled on his most recent ex just because you secured a front page spot for the local paper. He needed to be the one to celebrate your accomplishment with you, needed to be the first one to congratulate you. He didn’t want to think too deeply about what that meant. Sure, he had had a massive crush on you in college, he thought he might have been in love with you, but that had disappeared a long time ago. 

When you showed no sign of reciprocating his feelings, he decided to let it go, letting you go, at least in the romantic sense. 

Of course, there were still times where he’d look at you and think about how beautiful you were, especially when you’d just woken up and the light was hitting you in a specific way. But, that was just him appreciating your beauty as a best friend. He was sure of it. Realizing he had been quiet for too long, he glanced at Mingyu, nodding his head. “I guess I could see how someone could feel that way.” He chose to ignore the way Soonyoung cut his eyes toward him, knowing what he was thinking. Soonyoung had been the only person who had known about his college crush. He always insisted that you had felt the same, and that Jihoon still held a candle for you. 

“You’ll find it one day, Hoon. Don’t close yourself off to it.” Your voice is strained, though you try to hide it. You’ve always admired Jihoon, even if he was a bit closed off. He’d never really let himself go in a relationship. It was like he never felt comfortable. But you knew him at his core, knew how sweet and thoughtful he was. He had always been there for you when you needed him, which was probably why your love for him had never died. You’d tried to find someone else, dated people, even loved one or two, but not like you loved Jihoon. No one could compare. You’ve seen every side of him and there isn’t a single one of them that you don’t adore. He’s also been growing his hair and God does he look better than you’ve ever seen him. You can tell his confidence has grown a little and that is even more attractive. You know you’re well and truly fucked, but you aren’t sure you want to change that.

The night winds down and everyone gathers their things to leave. Soonyoung takes the time to pull Jihoon aside, making the younger boy look at his friend in confusion. “Look, I know you’re going to deny it like you always do, but watching you two pine after each other is getting hard to do.” Jihoon opens his mouth, only to be silenced by Soonyoung’s hand lifting in the air. “Have you ever stopped to think that there’s a reason that relationships never worked out for either of you? If you haven’t, then think about it, ok?” Soonyoung clapped his friend on the shoulder before he moved to hug you and tell you goodbye. 

“I’ll help clean up.” Jihoon’s words cut into your thoughts, distracting you from what it is you were thinking. You turned to face him, a teasing smirk gracing your features. “Take a look around. There’s nothing to clean up. Go home and actually get some sleep tonight. I know you have to be at the studio early tomorrow, just like I know you haven’t been sleeping. Just listen to me and go sleep.” He was baffled at how you knew that, but then again it was a talent you seemed to have. Knowing everything without him having to tell you. But then again, he guessed he had the same talent. It was like a sixth sense. Some real ‘There’s a disturbance’ shit. He simply nodded at you, saying goodnight and leaving without even stopping to think that you barely had to have any force behind your turn to get him to do exactly what you wanted.

The thinking came when he walked through his door. A lot of it. Soonyoung’s words began to float through his mind. Did they have any weight to them at all? Sure, relationships had really never worked out for the two of you, but that didn’t mean anything. Relationships come and go, that’s what they do. Occasionally, people get lucky and they find who they’re supposed to be with. Sometimes, they don’t. That was just life, it didn’t mean that the two of you were the reason the other’s relationships failed. The more he thought about it, though, the more merit Soonyoung’s words seemed to hold. Any time you needed him, he came running, and the same applied to you. You’ve both left dates and anniversaries because the other needed something. He’s had to assure quite a few exs that there was nothing romantic between the two of you and if he had to guess, he’d say you’ve done the same. Everything hits him at all once and he feels the need to sit down to process. 

You’re going through your own mental roller coaster. You know that Jihoon could find his person if he would just let someone in. It doesn’t have to be you, though you desperately want it to be, you just want him to find someone that will make him happy, someone that will bring out the loving side you know that he has. You sigh deeply as you lock up your apartment, making your way to your bed to get some much needed sleep.

You don’t hear from Jihoon for a few days, but that isn’t totally unusual. Sometimes he gets so lost in the music and you just wait until he’s back in the land of the living. But as a whole week passes, you start to worry. He’s never gone more than 3 days without speaking to you. You try to play through the events of the last time you saw him, thinking about if you had done something out of the norm. The only thing you think of is the conversation everyone had about Mingyu. He must have been offended that he was ganged up on, but then again that didn’t make sense. It wasn’t the first time everyone had had this conversation and he has never reacted like this before. It takes a split second for you to make up your mind and grab your purse and walk out the door.

Jihoon sits at his computer, staring past it like it’s not even there. He can’t focus, hasn’t been able to focus for a week. His thoughts always float back to you and how he feels. Now that he has realized he does in fact have feelings for you still, he can’t seem to bring himself to face you. What if he acts different? What if you realize? He can’t risk it. There are too many years of friendship on the line. Sure, not answering your texts is the coward’s way out, but he doesn’t know what else to do. As he had sat on his couch a week ago, the realization that he was in love with you hit him in the face. Damn Soonyoung. He would have been totally fine if he had kept being ignorant. Now though, he knows that he’d do anything for you. He knows that he already does do anything for you. 

The beeping on the keypad to his studio brings his attention back to reality. There are select few who know the code to his studio and he looks at the door with held breath, hoping it isn’t who he knows it is. You swing the door open, displeasure written all over your face. “What the fuck, Lee Jihoon?” He grimaces, hating that you’ve pulled his full name out of your pocket. If he didn’t before, he knows now that he is in deep trouble. He sits in his chair, slouching like a scolded child as you glare at him. “No text in a week. No reply in a week. Nothing to let me know that you’re even alive. Who the hell do you think you are?” Jihoon almost wants to laugh, thinking you’re adorable even when you’re angry, but he doesn’t dare. He knows that will only make things worse for him. 

Jihoon is hit with a sudden urge to touch you and he can’t hold back. He quickly stands and moves towards you slowly, watching as your demeanor changes. You go from angry to confused as you watch his steps. He stops in front of you, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sorry.” The words are whispered, but you can still hear them. All of the anger leaves you, almost. You hit his shoulder lightly, making him giggle slightly. “You damn well should be. Had my ass worried sick, asshole.” There’s a playfulness in your tone, one that you can’t help but let out. Your confusion grows as you realize that Jihoon hasn’t stopped hugging you. That is definitely different. Jihoon hates physical touch, he always has. In the entirety of your friendship, he’s only hugged you a handful of times and everyone has been quick, lasting only a few seconds.

“What happened to you in the past week for you to be so affectionate? You hate physical affection.” Your words come out teasing, trying to mask your genuine curiosity as a joke. He doesn’t answer for a moment, seeming content to just continue holding you. When he finally does speak, you choke on air, starting a small coughing fit. “Yeah, but I love you.” There’s no teasing tone. No joking. You can hear the sincerity in his voice. You have no words. No thoughts, head empty. 

Jihoon pulls back just enough to look at you and you can see the hesitation and worry in his eyes. You need to say something, you want to say something, but nothing is coming out. Your mouth is opening and closing like a fish gasping for air and you’re sure you look ridiculous. When you finally find words, they aren’t what you planned to say. “Are you sure about that?” Jihoon can’t contain his laugh and the sound hits you in your gut. It makes every fiber of your being tingle. Hearing him laugh brings you back to reality and you give him a playful shove, smiling and letting out a huff of laughter of your own. “Shut up.” There’s no real bite to your words and you know that he knows that. “I tell you that I love you and your response is to ask me if I’m sure?” He’s teasing you and loving it and you pout. “Hey! It’s a perfectly valid question!” Looking at him your heart surges with affection. 

“As funny as that was, I’m kind of panicking over here. A response would be nice, even if it’s a rejection.” Jihoon chews his lip as the nerves show on his face. You can’t help but smile at him and reach up and lace your fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. “Have I told you how much I love your hair like this?” Your statement throws him off guard and he looks at you with furrowed brows. “Wha-” You cut him off with a finger to his lips. “Almost as much as I love you.” The smile that comes across his face could light up a room with no lights. He leans down and presses his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?” He giggles against your lips as you give him a pout and a shove. His reaction is to pull you closer to him, pressing you as close to his body as possible. 

His eyes flit down to your lips before trailing back to your eyes, in silent question. You give him a slight nod, knowing that he’ll get the message. You watch as his lips slowly move towards yours, as if he’s teasing you by making you wait. You let out a whine of impatience and he giggles. He can’t help but give you what you want. When he finally presses his mouth to yours, it’s like the world explodes in a rainbow of colors you didn’t even know existed. You feel as if your entire purpose makes sense now that you have tasted his lips. It doesn’t take long before the sweet pecks turn into desperate, open mouthed kisses. His tongue dances with yours, fighting for dominance, which he quickly wins. The way he takes control of the kiss goes straight to your core. You’d thought about this and sure, you thought he’d be more of a dominant lover, but the reality is greater than what you could imagine. And this is only kissing. You can only imagine what it’s going to be like when he’s actually fucking you. The thought alone has your thighs clenching.

Of course, Jihoon notices even though you’re trying to be subtle about it. He pulls back with a smirk. “Oh? Is someone getting needy?” The way his voice drops in octave only causes you to clench tighter and let out a small whimper. Jihoon’s lips make their way to your neck, leaving small nibbles and kisses in their wake. “Aww. My poor baby. Already getting desperate, huh?” All you can do is nod against him as your hands grab at his shirt. He lets out a deep chuckle against the skin of your neck and the vibrations make you shiver. His hand slowly makes its way from your neck down the front of your chest, stopping just above your breast. He lifts his head to look you in the eyes, silent asking for consent. Instead of giving him a verbal answer, you take his hand, completely bypassing your clothed breast and placing it at the hem of your shirt. He takes the hint, leaning back just enough to lift your shirt from your body.

The chilly air in the studio causes your nipples to harden immediately and Jihoon’s eyes fall to your chest and darken with lust. His hands instantly find your bra covered breasts, pulling the cups down just enough to him to see your peaked buds. Taking one in between his thumb and index fingers, he pinches lightly, just enough to see your reaction. When you arch into him, he smirks, knowing he’s found something you like. “Hoon, please.” Your voice is light and airy, the need evident. “Please what, sweetheart? What do you need? You’ve gotta use your words, pretty.” The way you buck your hips and whine tells him all he needs to know. 

He moves his fingers to the button of your pants, making a show of slowly loosening the button. His teasing is both driving you crazy and making you more horny than you have ever been. Your hips are bucking into nothing, desperate for some sort of stimulation. When he finally gets the button undone, he sinks to his knees, pulling your pants down as he lowers himself. “Hands above your head, baby. No moving unless I say.” The softness of his tone does nothing to hide the dominance and it makes you weak. You nod and move your hands above your head against the wall. Jihoon flashes you a smile that makes your heart flutter. “What a good girl I have. You listen so well, my love.” 

When he taps your leg to signal for you to lift your legs to step out of the pants. You obey slowly, trying to tease him a little bit. A quick slap to your thigh makes you gasp, a moan slipping from your lips. “Behave. I’m trying to make our first time sweet. Don’t test me, angel.” His patience wavers slightly when he can’t wait to remove your panties, simply using his strength to rip them so that they fall off of you. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. “Holy shit, Jihoon.” He smirks like he knows how much his strength affects you, because he does. He doesn’t say anything, simply lifts your right leg and places it over his shoulder. Your breath hitches as you look down at him, making eye contact as he makes a show of sticking his tongue out, flicking it over your clit. The sudden contact makes you jerk forward and your eyes fall closed. Even though the action was nowhere near enough, it made you even more wet. You’re practically dripping at this point and once glance at the man below you lets you know that he enjoys the effect he has on you. 

He spends what feels like forever just slowly giving your clit kitten licks, driving you insane just as slowly. Without warning, his actions speed up. He grips your hips and harshly pulls them forward, shoving his face as far into your pussy as he can get it. The moan you emit is bordering on pornagraphic. Your fingers twitch, wanting so badly to grip him by the hair and ride his face. As if he can sense your thoughts, he pulls back, making you whine. “Don’t even try it. Move those hands and you won’t cum at all.” The slight growl in his voice does things to your insides. “Yes, sir.” Your voice is low and desperate and Jihoon groans, approving of your choice of title. 

He dives back into your cunt, quickly sliding his middle finger inside of you, his ring following a few seconds later. He curls his fingers, searching for the spot that he knows will make you come undone. It doesn’t take him long to find it, pressing the tips of his fingers against it and rubbing. You can’t control the sounds that come from your throat and you’re beyond glad the studio is soundproof. You can feel yourself getting closer to your peak and you do your best to communicate that. “Ji, please. So close.” Your hips are moving without your control, chasing your end on instinct. Jihoon leans back long enough to give you permission to come. “That’s it baby. Let it go. Let me taste you. Give it to me.” His words throw you over the precipice, launching your mind into a different plane, one that is filled with nothing but pleasure and the sound of his voice. Jihoon works you through your orgasm, slowing down gradually to draw it out as long as possible. 

“Breathe, love. In and out.” You don’t even realize how hard you’re panting, but you listen to him regardless. Your eyes are closed and your legs feel like jelly and you’re aware that you’re only standing because he’s holding you up. You aren’t sure when he stood, brushing his fingers across your face and through your hair. When you finally return to reality, he’s looking at you with concern. “Are you ok?” His voice is shaky with hints of worry and his eyes flicker all over your face like he’s looking for some sign of distress. It takes you a moment to respond and when you do, you can only say the first thing that pops into your mind. “Are you fucking kidding me? That was insane and amazing and I need your cock in me right now or I’ll die.” The laugh Jihoon lets out is loud and unrestrained and it makes you smile. 

He places a quick kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself briefly on his lips. His hands take hold of yours and he slowly moves you toward the couch that sits against the wall behind his computer chair. With another kiss, he steps back, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt. “Lay down on your back, baby.” You don’t even think before doing as he says, keeping your eyes on his as he lifts his shirt over his head. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen Jihoon shirtless, but the fact that you know what’s about to happen makes it all the more erotic. He drops the shirt on the floor, not caring where it lands, moving his hands to the basketball shorts he’s wearing. Your breath hitches in anticipation, and you refuse to even blink as he eases his shorts and boxers down together. When his length comes into view, your mouth goes dry. He’s the perfect amount of length and girth, not too long or short and you just know the stretch will be heavenly. He watches you look at him for a moment before he steps out of his clothes completely and makes his way to the couch where your body lies limp and needy.

His eyes wander your body, simply taking you in, clearly liking the way you’re spread out for him. “You are so fucking beautiful, do you know that?” The way he’s looking at you makes your insides turn to mush and you reach for him, making grabby hands at him. He gives you a soft smile, kneeling in between your legs and linking his fingers with yours. After giving each hand a kiss, he lifts them to fit around his neck, leaning down to give a slow kiss, full of nothing but love. Giving you one last questioning look, he waits for you to smile and nod before he reaches down to align his length with your entrance. When he pushes forward, it feels like the world expands and closes in at the same time. You’re hyper aware of everything while also only focusing on the feel of him. It’s like you’ve finally found a piece of yourself that you didn’t even know you were missing. 

The first thrust steals every bit of oxygen you have, replacing it with love and just Jihoon. The sound he makes causes a groan to erupt from your throat. He sounds wrecked already and you love that you’re the one that is making him that way. His face buries itself in your neck, lips littering kisses along the exposed skin. “Fuck, you feel so good.” You can tell that he’s holding himself back. You lift your head just enough for your lips to be close to his ear, giving it a soft bite. “Jihoon, you can be soft later. Right now, I need you to fuck me.” It seems like that’s all he needed to hear. He pulls his hips back until his cock is almost completely out of you before he slams back in. Hard. The movement jolts your whole body, shoving your head against the arm of the couch. Without missing a beat, Jihoon brings his hand down to place it between your head and the couch, his thrusts still hard and fast. 

With the combination of his speed, depth and roughness, you’re embarrassingly close to coming for the second time. You dig the nails of one hand into the skin of his back, the other making its way to his hair, pulling just enough for him to feel it. The groan he lets out lets you know that he very much enjoys that. Your moans are loud and mixing with the filthy babbles that are coming from him. Praise of how good you feel, how badly he’s wanted this, how you’re his now. Your orgasm hits you full force without you even realizing just how close you were. The squeezing of your pussy around his cock and the look on your face has Jihoon following you immediately, filling your cunt with every bit of cum he has. You look up at him, and his breath hitches. You’re so, so beautiful and so, so his. Looking at you like this, he knows that he would do anything for you. Anything just to see you happy and smiling. He would eat glass if that would cause you joy, even though he knows it wouldn’t. A sudden realization hits him and he lowers his head.

“Shit, I’m a simp, too.”

[pucksandpower]

Like … for Uber?

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: maybe you should have been a bit more specific when you told your parents that your boyfriend drives for a living

The aroma of roast chicken and freshly baked rolls wafts through the air as you nervously adjust the centerpiece on the dining room table. Your parents and younger brother are due home any minute, and you’ve spent the afternoon preparing for this pivotal family dinner. Tonight, they’ll finally meet your boyfriend.

The doorbell chimes, sending a jolt through your body. You hurry to the entrance, smoothing down your dress before opening the door. Max stands there, a bouquet of flowers in hand and an easy smile on his face.

“Hey,�� he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “These are for your mother.”

“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that,” you reply, taking the flowers. “Come on in. My family should be here soon.”

As you lead Max into the living room, you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. You haven’t exactly been forthcoming about Max’s career, telling your family only that he’s “a driver.” It wasn’t a lie, per se, but you knew they assumed he worked for a ride-sharing service or delivery company.

“Nice place,” Max comments, looking around. “Very ... homey.”

You laugh. “Is that a polite way of saying it’s nothing like your fancy Monaco apartment?”

“No, I mean it,” he insists, pulling you close. “It feels lived-in. Comfortable.”

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway interrupts your moment. “That’ll be them,” you say, your stomach doing somersaults. “Ready?”

Max squeezes your hand. “Always.”

Your parents burst through the door, arms laden with grocery bags. Your mother’s face lights up when she spots Max.

“Oh, you must be the boyfriend!” She exclaims, setting down her bags to give him a hug. “You’re even more handsome than Y/N said.”

Your father steps forward, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, son. Heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Max replies with a chuckle.

As introductions are made, you can’t help but notice your parents exchanging curious glances. You know they’re dying to ask about Max’s job, but they’re too polite to broach the subject right away.

“Dinner smells amazing,” your father says, sniffing the air appreciatively. “Shall we sit down?”

Everyone gathers around the table, and you begin to serve the food. The conversation flows easily at first, with your parents asking Max about his family and where he grew up. But as the main course is cleared away, you can sense the questions they’re itching to ask.

Your mother finally breaks. “So, Max, how long have you been driving?”

Max looks momentarily confused. “Uh, professionally? Since I was 17, I guess.”

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seventeen? Isn’t that a bit young to start with Uber?”

“Uber?” Max repeats, bewildered. “I don’t-”

You quickly interject, “Dad, Max doesn’t work for Uber.”

“Oh, my mistake,” your father says, looking embarrassed. “Lyft, then?”

Max turns to you, a mix of amusement and confusion on his face. “Schatje, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Before you can explain, your mother chimes in. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, dear. Driving for those apps is honest work. We’re just curious about what it’s like.”

Max opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. “Mom, Dad, I think I need to clarify something. When I said Max was a driver, I didn’t mean-”

The sound of the front door slamming interrupts you. Your younger brother, Tommy, comes barreling into the dining room, out of breath and wide-eyed.

“Sorry I’m late, I was at practice and-” He stops short, his jaw dropping as he spots Max. “Holy shit! You’re Max Verstappen!”

The room falls silent. Your parents look from Tommy to Max, then back to Tommy, confusion etched on their faces.

“Language, Tommy,” your mother scolds automatically, before adding, “Wait, what did you say?”

Tommy is practically vibrating with excitement. “That’s Max Verstappen! He’s not just any driver, he’s a Formula 1 World Champion!”

Your father turns to Max, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “Is this true?”

Max nods, looking slightly sheepish. “Yes, sir. I’m a Formula 1 driver for Red Bull Racing.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Your mother is the first to recover, letting out a nervous laugh. “Oh my, and here we were asking you about Uber! We must look so foolish.”

“Not at all,” Max assures her, his smile warm and genuine. “It’s actually quite refreshing. Most people I meet already know everything about me.”

Your father leans forward, his interest piqued. “So, Formula 1 ... that’s the racing with the really fast cars, right?”

Max nods, launching into an explanation of the sport. As he talks, you can see your parents becoming more and more fascinated. Tommy, meanwhile, is peppering Max with questions about his latest races and rival drivers.

“I can’t believe my sister is dating Max Verstappen,” Tommy says for the third time, shaking his head in disbelief.

You feel a blush creeping up your neck. “Tommy, please ...”

Max reaches under the table to squeeze your hand. “It’s alright, liefje. I’m just glad they know now. No more secrets, yeah?”

Your mother stands up suddenly. “Oh, goodness! I completely forgot about dessert. I’ll just go fetch it.”

As she hurries to the kitchen, your father clears his throat. “So, Max, I have to ask ... is it dangerous? All that racing, I mean.”

Max considers the question carefully. “There are, of course, risks. But the cars are incredibly safe these days, and we take every precaution possible.”

Your mother returns with a homemade apple pie, setting it down in the center of the table. “I hope you like pie, Max. It’s an old family recipe.”

“It looks delicious,” Max says sincerely. “Thank you for going to all this trouble.”

As your mother serves the pie, the conversation shifts to more casual topics. You find yourself relaxing, relieved that the truth is finally out and that your family seems to be taking it well.

“So, how did you two meet?” Your father asks, between bites of pie.

You and Max exchange a glance, both smiling at the memory. “It was at a charity event in London,” you begin.

Max jumps in, “She spilled her drink all over my shoes.”

“Max!” You exclaim, swatting his arm playfully. “I did not spill it, you bumped into me!”

He laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Maybe we bumped into each other. Either way, I’m glad it happened.”

Your mother sighs contentedly. “That’s so romantic. And now look at you two, so happy together.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Gross, Mom. Can we talk about racing again?”

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of laughter and conversation. As the night winds down, you find yourself in the kitchen with your mother, washing dishes while Max chats with your father and Tommy in the living room.

“He’s a lovely boy,” your mother says softly, handing you a plate to dry. “I can see why you like him so much.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry I wasn’t more upfront about his job. I just ... I wanted you to get to know him as a person first, you know?”

Your mother nods understandingly. “I get it, sweetheart. It must be hard, dating someone so famous. But from what I’ve seen tonight, he seems very down-to-earth.”

“He is,” you agree, glancing towards the living room where you can hear Max’s laughter mingling with your father’s. “He’s just Max to me.”

As you finish up in the kitchen, Max appears in the doorway. “Need any help?”

Your mother shoos him away. “Absolutely not, you’re our guest. Go relax.”

Max insists on helping anyway, drying the last few dishes as you and your mother put them away. The domesticity of the moment strikes you, and you find yourself imagining a future where scenes like this are commonplace.

Later, as you walk Max to his car, the cool night air nips at your skin. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“That went well, I think,” he says, a hint of relief in his voice.

You nod, leaning into him. “Better than I expected. Sorry about the Uber mix-up.”

Max laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Don’t be. It was kind of fun, actually. Your family is great, by the way.”

“They liked you too,” you assure him. “Even before they knew you were famous.”

He stops at his car, turning to face you. His eyes are soft in the moonlight as he cups your face in his hands. “That’s all that matters to me. That they like me for who I am, not what I do.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. “I love you, Max Verstappen, Uber driver extraordinaire.”

He grins against your lips. “And I love you, Y/N Y/L/N, girl who definitely did not spill her drink on my shoes.”

[mggslover]

Valentines Savior

In which Spencer saves his best friend from a failed Valentines date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff x slight angst Content warnings: friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is tipsy, reader curses, confessions of love, vague mention of reader having abandonment issues, suggestive joke Word count: 3,6k A/n: happy valentines my lovers! 💛

Everything seemed perfect. And maybe that was the problem.

The restaurant you found yourself in had the perfect setting. There was the right amount of background noise: the clinking of wine glasses, muffled talking, occasional laughing in the back, and a jazz band playing the most atmospheric tunes. The lights weren’t too harsh—a pet peeve of yours—and the food was delicious, which you knew was a reason for you to return some other time. Just not with the person you were seated in front of now.

Kamil Everett was a good-looking guy. Slightly older than you, but not enough to doubt his reasons for being into you. He had the perfect jaw structure, covered in the perfect amount of neatly trimmed stubble. He had nice, white teeth, not the kind that you could tell was fake. He wore a cologne that was strong enough to notice, but not overpowering enough to bother you. He’d put effort into his hair and outfit, and he asked questions that showed interest but weren’t too invasive. He was perfect. Again, just perfect.

Still, the little devil on your shoulder nagged at you that this wasn’t what you were looking for. That something was missing, something neither Kamil nor the restaurant could give you.

You jumped in your seat when a pocket-sized Penelope with pink wings suddenly popped onto your right shoulder. Fuck, you’d been drinking too much.

“I am sick of this! Truly!” Penelope’s chipmunk voice peeped right into your ear.

“How many times have you come to me, saying, ‘Oh Penelope, someone has put a curse on me. There are no cute guys anywhere. The universe hates me’, and look at you now! Perfect guy, right over there!” Her small finger pointed at Kamil, and you pulled a sour face.

Angel Penelope responded by shaking her head in disapproval. “I will never hear you complain again. Now make sure to turn the poor thing down nicely and send him over to my place so I can give him some love.”

You chuckled at her comment.

“Are you okay?”

You choked on your red wine as Kamil spoke up. Devil you and Angel Penelope disappeared from your shoulders in a cloud of smoke. You coughed a couple of times before nodding, “Yeah, I am so fine.”

You looked at Kamil, seeing the genuine concern in his brown eyes. You knew you couldn’t continue keeping him on like that. “Actually, I think this is not going to work.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean us,” you answered, pointing your finger between the two of you. “You’re a great guy. I just don’t feel… the spark.”

He scoffed under his breath, immediately standing up and pushing his chair back to the table. You grabbed his wrist as he tried walking off.

“I swear, you’re great! I’m the problem. It’s always me, actually.”

Kamil didn’t get soothed by your words, pulling his arm free out of your grasp and turning his back to you, walking toward the exit.

“I have a great friend!” you yelled after him. “She’s an angel. Literally!” He kept walking, ignoring your pleas.

“I could send you her address! Kamil!”

“Ma’am, please tone it down or I’ll have to call security.”

You looked up to find a stern-looking woman standing in front of your table. When you looked around, all the couples at the surrounding tables were staring at you. You offered them a tight-lipped smile and mouthed a small sorry.

Once the critiquing whispers calmed down, you grabbed your phone from out of your purse, finding Spencer in your emergency contacts as you clicked on the call button.

“Hey, how are you-”

You shushed him. “I’m in a restaurant, whisper, or they’ll kick me out.”

Spencer listened and lowered his voice. “The new one downtown? I’ve been meaning to go there.”

“Well, consider today your lucky day. If you can make it in fifteen minutes, I’ll have dessert ordered for you.”

You chuckled as you heard his keys jingling from the other end of the line. “I’m heading out right now.”

“Good,” you laughed. “I’ll see you then.”

-`♡´-

A sigh of relief escaped you when Spencer walked into the restaurant. He gave you a smile and lifted his hand as he spotted the table you were seated at.

You stood up from your seat, letting out a satisfied groan as he enveloped you in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I can’t wait for ice cream.”

You chuckled, leaning back to see his face.

“You smell nice,” he complimented.

“Oh why, thank you,” you playfully responded, grinning as you both sat down.

Spencer observed the cutlery and half-drunk glass of wine in front of him, raising an eyebrow. “I assume I’m not the first person you offered dessert to.”

“Nope,” you answered, exaggeratedly popping the p. “Was on a date.”

Spencer lifted his eyebrows. “Another one?”

“Hey, don’t judge me! At least I go on dates.”

“Does it count if they all run away before dessert?”

You scoffed a laugh in surprise, not prepared for his burn. “You’re such an ass.”

He cheekily grinned. “What was his name?”

“Kamil,” you deeply sighed, knowing you’ll be getting chills every time you hear that name from now on.

“Did you know Kamil is derived from the Arabic element kāmil? Which means “perfect” or “complete”.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up your glass before taking a sip. “Of fucking course.”

You thanked the waiter as he set two neatly made plates of dessert down on the table.

“I thought you gave up on dating,” Spencer wondered out loud, humming as he took his first bite of ice cream.

“I was,” you responded, taking a bite yourself. “Valentine’s an exception, though. I don’t want to be sitting at home by myself.”

“You could’ve asked me to come over. We still haven’t seen all the Star Wars movies,” he responded, commenting on the movie marathon you started last month. Then he pointed his spoon at you, “Well, you haven’t.”

“I know. I just meant spending the day with a lover.”

“I could be your lover.”

Before you knew it, the wine shot out of your mouth, painting your dress and the white tablecloth red.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked in worry, hurrying to your side as you continued coughing.

“Spencer-” you coughed a couple more times, and his arms made their way around your body, your hands reaching out to pull them off. “Spencer, I swear to god,” you sputtered out, “do not perform the Heimlich on me.”

The fact that you were able to talk reassured him enough to loosen his grip around you. Still, he didn’t leave your side.

You looked down to see the inevitable: your dress was ruined.

“Fuck, I loved this dress,” you groaned in annoyance.

“Here, let me-” Spencer grabbed a napkin from the table, turning back to you and tapping your chest dry. His eyes were focused on the low neckline of your dress, and the movements of his hand slowed, as if hypnotized.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” He hummed as he continued tapping the now non-existent wine droplets.

“Can you stop touching my boobs?”

He dropped the napkin like it caught fire.

“I-, I wasn’t-”

“You totally were,” you widely grinned.

“No!”

“Yes, you were. You’ve been staring at my boobs all night.”

Spencer swallowed. His gaze quickly landed on your cleavage before he blinked up at you. “Well, I can’t help it when you’re wearing a dress that’s showing décolletage.”

“Ha! You admitted it.”

A red flush crept up his neck, spreading over his cheeks. “That was a ploy! You were tricking me!”

“Ma’am, this is your last warning; I need you to leave the restaurant now.”

-`♡´-

The moon hung low in the sky, the streets cast in a warm yellow glow of the lampposts. A slight breeze caught your skin as you walked out of the restaurant.

“Well, that was a disaster.”

“You shouldn’t have kept insisting on a doggy bag.” Spencer laughed.

You let out a chuckle, turning to him. “Did you see the look on her face?”

Your comment spurred more laughter from Spencer, making him fall against you in response. You widely grinned and nudged his shoulder, feeling proud of getting him to laugh like that.

“This reminds me of the time when I first joined the team and you asked me to have dinner.” You recalled once your laughter had calmed down, still trying to catch your breath.

The moment felt like yesterday. It was strange to be reminded of the fact that it happened years ago. Spencer had caught your attention the instant you joined the team, which was surprising considering the fact he wasn’t a big talker. Well, he talked most out of everyone, but it always stayed on the case, rarely sharing something personal.

That’s why it surprised you that one day, on the jet after finishing a case, Spencer moved from the couch he usually found himself on to the empty chair opposite you. You remember finding it endearing how nervous he looked as he asked you to have dinner with him in a restaurant downtown.

You’d overheard the several times he asked other team members to join him in activities, whether it was a new food chain opening or a movie screening. You didn’t have the heart to tell him no. Besides that, you were curious to get to know the so-called genius Spencer Reid better. He amazed you again when the dinner turned out to be one of the times you’ve laughed hardest in your life. Since then, you knew Spencer would be at the top of your friend list.

“You seem to have a habit of spitting out your drink.” Spencer mused with a grin.

You returned his smile. “That’s because you seem to have a habit of trying to make me spit out my drink by acting like you’re in love with me.”

Due to your tipsy state, you didn’t notice the way Spencer broke eye contact, the way he nervously tapped his fingers against his pants, and how he seemed to look anywhere but at you.

If it wasn’t for the subtle shudder of your shoulder against his, he might’ve never gained the courage to look you in the face again.

“Are you cold?” He asked considerately, his eyes taking over your form.

You looked down at your outfit, reminded again that you were just wearing a sleeveless dress. “Kind of.”

Without saying another word, Spencer took off his corduroy jacket. He held it open by the sleeves, making it easy for you to slide your arms in. His hand grazed the back of your neck as he tugged the collar up, then pulled your hair out from underneath the material, letting your locks fall over the jacket.

You softly mumbled a thanks, and Spencer responded back with a sweet smile.

“It looks better on you anyway.”

You chuckled, “Such a sweet talker.”

“Just to you,” he replied, a little too fast for his liking as he saw your gaze drop to the ground.

What he wasn’t aware of was the rush of butterflies that soared through you at his words, ambushing you in a way so surprising it made you feel nauseous. Or maybe you were still feeling the effects of the alcohol.

It was ironic how naturally the compliments rolled off of his tongue, how effortlessly romantic gestures came to your friend — actions you longed for in your dates.

Spencer Reid was old-fashioned, a gentleman, sure, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more than just kindness to his acts. If Derek and Penelope were right every time they gave teasing looks when Spencer brought you your favorite coffee, or when he’d made sure the seat next to you on the jet was always occupied by him.

“Are you okay? You seem quiet.” Spencer noted after the two of you had walked in silence for the last couple of minutes.

“Yeah,” you breathed out in a sigh. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

His question slipped in your ears just as easily as it went out, as your attention was taken by the neon gelato sign across the street. The brightly colored flavors stood on display, a harsh white light shining down on it, luring you like a moth to a flame.

“Gelato.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed, but before he could make sense of your answer, you took a leap, crossing the street as if invincible to any vehicle that was speeding on the road.

“What are you doing?!” Spencer yelped in panic, eyes flicking over the road before sprinting after you, ignoring the honking cars.

His warm hand caught yours, and in a hurry, he pulled you onto the sidewalk, spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the brick wall, Spencer hovering over you as he caught his breath.

He blinked at you in disbelief, jaw tense, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“We’re all mad here,” you dramatically quote, pointing to yourself, “I’m mad,” and then placing your hand on his chest, “you’re mad.”

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” he mumbled.

You nodded your head, a wide grin displayed on your face.

“So… gelato?” you asked, wiggling your brows.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh. “You just had ice cream.”

“Actually, I just had half an ice cream before they kicked us out. And it is not to be compared to gelato. You should know that.”

“Well, gelato does have a lower milk fat content. It usually varies between 4 to 9%, whereas ice cream has to have at least 10% of milk fat. The vast majority of brands have an even larger percentage, some even going up to 25%. Actually, now that you mention it, there are a lot more differences between American ice cream and gelato, for example, the use of eggs-”

You hummed in response as you took his hand in yours, letting him continue his ramblings as you guided him into the parlor.

-`♡´-

Your feet were dangling off the high chair you were sitting on as you licked the red plastic spoon clean that came with your dessert.

“I haven’t properly thanked you for helping me earlier. You really are my Valentines savior.”

Spencer smiled, pulling a lock of hair behind his ear. “I didn’t mind. You can always call me.”

“I know,” you replied just as honestly. “I wish it could be as easy as this with others. I wish I could just date you.”

A flush crept onto his neck, red skin showing on his chest where his top buttons were unbuttoned. “Why-” he hesitated before continuing, “Why can’t you?”

“Why can’t I what?” you asked back in oblivion, scooping another spoonful of gelato.

His fingers fidgeted with his spoon, his gaze nervously fixed on his empty cup as he spoke the next words: “Date me.”

Oh.

The longer you remained silent, the thicker the tension grew in the air. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any thoughts; hell, your mind was full of them. Your earlier theories flashed through your mind again, now getting the confirmation that all his attempts to be close to you meant more than solely friendship. How he had indeed tried telling you about his feelings all this time, and how you’d been blatantly oblivious. How you kept telling him about going on dates with other people while he was pining over you. There were too many thoughts to articulate, to even make sense of.

“Please say something,” his voice cracked in a soft beg, his eyes twinkling with hope, or maybe an emotion closer to desperation.

“I- I don’t know what to say.”

The spark in his eyes flickered out. Spencer mouthed okay while giving you an awkward, tight-lipped smile, his hands finding their way into the pockets of his pants.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he said to you, “Let me walk you home.”

-`♡´-

People always say fresh air is the answer to everything. Feeling sick as a dog? Go outside! Feeling depressed? Go outside! On the verge of a nervous breakdown? Go outside! Turns out whoever invented going on long walks had a point.

Your mind cleared with every step you took. Your initial anxieties around Spencer’s words fade around you in a blur. Slowly coming to peace with his feelings and your own.

Dating your best friend could work.

Spencer, on the opposite, felt more tense after each second that passed in silence. It wasn’t that he regretted being honest with you; the weight of his love for you was overwhelming. It was inevitable that there’d come a time where he’d spill his thoughts. However, he shouldn’t have done it like this, with you not even sober enough to understand the gravity of his words.

So, when you rounded the corner of the street and he spotted your house, which was all too familiar to him, he knew he had to retract his confession.

“I shouldn’t have said that earlier. I just… like you. A lot.” He rubbed his forearms, either in a nervous habit or because the cold was getting to him. “And I thought you felt the same, but I’m aware that it’s irrational because, well, you go on dates. And you go on dates with people you like and-“

“Spencer,” you interrupted, having to catch his eyes to get him to focus.

“I know it was inappropriate to confess that I’m in love with you when you’re not even sober. Alcohol interferes with the communication pathways of the brain, so this might be the worst moment possible to admit to something like this.”

“You’re in love with me?”

This caught Spencer’s attention. He focused on you with a puzzled look. “Well, technically I asked you why you wouldn’t want to date me, but I-”

The words died on his tongue the second your lips found his. It felt like you finally got the confirmation you’d always longed for. Someone that knew you inside out, who understood you, and who wasn’t afraid of showing you.

Spencer’s mind was spinning. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air before he settled them on your cheeks, holding you as if afraid you’d disappear.

It was only after a couple of seconds that his IQ regained from 60 to 187, using his hands to gently pull you back from his lips.

His lips remained slightly parted, pink and swollen from the kiss, and his eyes narrowed in overwhelming confusion. “What was that for?”

“That was to show you that I love you too.”

“You can’t just say something like that.”

“But I mean it, Spence,” you stated in confidence. “I was stupid for not seeing it before. For some reason, it felt like you and I were impossible. The thought never occurred to me that we could date. We’ve been friends for so long. But you’re the only one who actually cares, the only one who stays, and I see that now.”

His eyes watered at the creaking of your voice, but he blinked the upcoming tears away. He took a deep breath. Selfishly, he didn’t want to say the next words, satisfied living in the delusion that you loved him back, but he knew he had to stay objective.

“Alcohol consumption also heightens emotions.”

“I know what I’m feeling, Spencer,” you assured. “I’ve just… I’ve been afraid of you leaving me as well, of seeing me as not lovable enough, that I didn’t even consider it a possibility.”

You let out a small self-deprecating laugh, making his heart ache.

“Just give me another chance, please. I will not be so oblivious this time,” you spoke, the corner of your mouth slightly lifted.

His expression mirrored yours, and he gently grasped your hands, his thumbs running over them to bring you comfort. “Can you call me tomorrow?”

You looked up at him.

“If, uh, you still feel the same when you’re sober, we could talk about it.”

There was nothing you were more certain of at that moment. Still, you nodded.

-`♡´-

The buzzing of his phone on the nightstand was enough for Spencer to wake up with a pounding headache. His mind had worked overtime yesterday, rolling in bed in anxiety, waking up every fifteen minutes, and now he was experiencing the physical side effects of it.

“Hello?” he answered, pressing the device against his ear, too sleepy to have checked who called.

“Spencer?”

At the sound of your voice, he sat straight up in bed, his back leaning against the wooden headboard.

He cleared his throat. “H-hi, yes, it’s me.”

There was no pause on the other end of the line, your words determined. “I still love you.”

He leaned forward, pressing the phone closer to his ear, in an attempt to absorb your words.

“I’m really happy to hear that.” His fingertips skimmed along his jawline, in need of proof that he was awake, that this was actually happening. “I love you too. Still. Right now. Always, probably.”

You chuckled at his nervous rambling, hearing him breathlessly laugh in reply.

“Good. Because I don’t want to waste any more time second-guessing.”

“You shouldn’t worry. You won’t be able to get rid of me. I won’t leave you.”

He meant the words in a light, joking manner, but still your heart happily pounded at the sentence.

“Neither will I.”

[reverie-verse]

Azriel x Reader: The Bond of a Century

An old request that I decided to revamp

Request prompt: Can I request an Azriel x reader where the mating bond snaps for Azriel but not the reader? Kind of like how Feyra didn’t know Rhys was her mate till she was told.

My prompt: A bond forgotten for over a century and a half makes its way back to the forefront. All of it starts with Rhys asking for a favor.

This is a fluffy, steamy, angst-ish fic

I hope you enjoy!!!! My requests are open!!!

____________________________

This was the last thing you thought you would be doing for Rhys. Out of all the things, this-this is what he chose for you to do. Rhys had a sick twisted mind that put you in a situation you had no desire of being in or a part of. You mentally cursed at the high lord, hating him in the moment even though he was your dearest friend. Elain scoured the city for certain pots for her plants, and certain seeds for her garden. Azriel right by her side and you trailing behind them. All you wanted to do was to go back to your home near the docks. It was the first home you had when you first moved from Dawn to Velaris less than a century ago, but with some convincing Rhys and Feyre were able to get you to stay at the town house. It was only then did her sisters arrive, and at some point you were put to the task of keeping an eye on Elain with the occasional visit of Az. Honestly you wished you could train with Nesta, but Cassian was chosen for that task. You wouldn’t have minded living in the house of wind-“ I think I need to go to Day Court or maybe Spring, Oh perhaps we can go to Dawn instead. They must have better pots.” Elain speaks more to Azriel than she does you. You were eyeing the various shops, and the people delighted to be around you, each grinning and waving at you. Another beautiful thing about Velaris you’d come to love. People were kind here.

Azriel smiled softly at her “ Of course, if that’s what you want” his voice was tender and sweet. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, turning your attention elsewhere. You hated being there dealing with this shit, but Rhys insisted you tag along, “It’s good for the soul. Get some fresh air” with that insane cat-like smirk. Ooo you shoot daggers into your mind, a deep chuckle echoing in the background.

“ Yes that’s what I want, thank you Az” Elain returned the gesture.

“ Alright then I’ll let Rhys and Feyre know-“ You say as you pinched a flower petal between your thumb and index finger. You looked away from it then back at them. The two watched you with curiosity, you let go of the petal. It was no simple task, an easy reminder of what you needed to do and a simple approval came from Rhys. A gentle poke in your mind causes you to shake your head.“-Let's get this over with” You take steps towards them placing your hands on their arms you effortlessly winnow the three of you to Dawn. The landing was gentle and less sickening, the three of you placed in a Market, one that you were familiar with.. Elain squealed with excitement as she rushed over to an area where she had seen fresh flowers, a few shops down could be seen a pottery shop, the two of you already trailing her.

“ Look at this beautiful bouquet! Y/N? Should we get this for the town house?” She gestures to the bouquet filled with many vibrant colors, various shapes and sizes. You were stumped, she normally doesn’t ask you these questions most of the time they were directed at Az.

“They look lovely Elain, I’m sure they’ll fit anywhere you put them..” You replied not really sure how to respond. Honestly you’ve never really thought about what flowers you liked or didn’t . It wasn’t something that was ever given to you, nor something you found and immediately fell in love with. You didn’t have anything against anyone who knew what they liked, you just-never had the experience of looking forward to your own set of plants. Even when you first attempted gardening most of your plants and flowers died, you simply didn’t have the skill or the eye for it..but that was okay, though on rare occasions it was something you wished you had..

Elain smiles awkwardly “ Well, maybe we can get it, it might brighten up the home. Make it seem more natural..comfortable” She pulls out her coins, handing it to the shopkeeper. The three of you move further heading over to the pottery shop that she explained earlier how she wanted to visit. Your eyes searched the area, checking for predators, anyone who might cause harm to the high lady’s sister, before entering the shop. You had other plans that you needed to attend to while the two looked around, it was in the midst of Elains discussion, mostly to Azriel about the various styles of pottery, that you planned to sneak off. It was only then did a voice capture your attention from behind you.

“ Y/N, I must admit I never pegged as you someone who might be interested in pottery” Thesan, high lord of Dawn, speaks out, the entire shop haunting their work to bow at his presence. He waved his hand dismissing them easily back to work. Azriel positions himself so that he stands near you with Elain behind him, she peers her head out, trying to see who it was that spoke so elegantly. A small smile graces your features at that familiar voice you knew so well as you shifted to face Thesan, who was already grinning. Azriel didn’t miss it, taking note of it.

“What if I was?” You retorted,

“ Then that would be a surprise”

“I hate to burst your bubble High Lord but I’m here on business not for pleasure” You replied, the two of you sharing a small laugh together. Azriel forced his expression into neutrality, Elains eyes sparkled with curiosity and intrigue. Thesan looks behind you for a moment, taking in the Shadowsinger and the woman next to him.

“ Ouch, that one hurt Y/N, I see you brought friends, Shadowsinger” Thesan greets civilly no hate present.

“ Thesan,” Azriel gives a simple head nod in his direction, there was no need for malice, Thesan had always been a great friend of Rhys’s and now apparently yours. Though a feeling crept inside his chest, this odd feeling takes root, Azriel does his best to shove it away, especially with Elain right next to him..

“ And you must be Elain, one of the sisters of High Lady Night.”

“ Yes I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you” Elain smiles with a blush that creeps along her cheeks. She wasn’t sure how to respond being that a high lord, whom she never met knew she existed. The surrealness of the situation becomes a reality, the more she realizes how well known her sister is, how well known both of her sisters are including herself. A delighted yet astonishing experience for her, something she wasn’t used to yet.

“ Same to you, i hope you don’t mind if I borrow Y/N for a moment or two, there’s somethings I’d like to discuss” Thesan offered but secretly it was a meeting that needed to take place. You were in fact here on business, something that Rhys specifically shared with you and no one else. Dawn used to be your home, but when you were moved to Velaris, you became the seg way for Dawn and Night. Your job was to be the emissary for both sides, keeping the courts relationship in even better shape. You missed your home dearly at times, and you missed Thesan whom you were extremely close too, and who you cared about, even with this being only for business there was some pleasure that came out of it.

“ No of course not, I’m sure she could use a break from us, right Azriel?” Elain looks up to him but his eyes were trained on you and Thesan. You were ready to join him without so much as another word, it struck a nerve in him, why? What could possibly be the topic of conversation between you two? Why do you only need to speak with him? Surely Rhys would’ve told him what this meeting was about? Why hadn’t you come to him for advice or as a second set of ears? Why was the meeting a secret?-“Azriel?”Elain calls out to him, you were looking at him suspiciously, your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes flickering across every part of his face and bodily language. Azriel adjusts himself, shielding off whatever thoughts or feelings he harbored in the moment. He blinks, his eyes drift back to Elain then back to you and Thesan “ Go ahead, we’ll be here in the shop if you need us, we leave in about two hours”

“ Alright then I will have my men escort the two of you back to my palace.” Thesan replied, You eased the questioning look off your face, you shift back towards Thesan, the two of you walking out of the shop, the conversation immediately flowed. He could see the smile on your face, and yet again the melodic sound of laughter that left your lips. The high lords' guards remained in place while Azriel and Elain both continued their shopping. However, that didn’t stop him from taking one last look out the door.

When the two hours were up, Azriel and Elain were guided securely to the Palace where he’d find you and Thesan walking along the hall. Thesan stopped in his tracks grabbing your arm, it forces you to halt in place, your body halfway facing him. His mouth moves but Azriel can’t hear what he’s saying, he lifts a hand to your face gently swiping at your cheek. He removes his hand, pulling you gently into a tight embrace. Azriel could see the way you held onto him tightly, as if you dared to let go. The two of you stayed in that position for a few moments until you both eventually pulled away. Why were you crying? Were you hurting? Were they happy tears? Did he say something to you? What was it? There were too many emotions to pinpoint, Azriel’s chest continued to tighten at the emotions he felt. You left Thesans' side offering him one last smile, but that smile fades, when you approach them.

“It’s time, are you ready?” You ask softly, your demeanor changed, a bit relaxed but a heavy weight stays on your shoulders. You roll them back, adjusting yourself. Azriel watches you with such careful eyes, you paid no mind, your thoughts elsewhere.

“ Yes-“ Elain starts but her gaze flickers back and forth between you both. For Elain it was rather odd to see the two of you interact, when she had met you, your relationship with Azriel was already thin, you were distant with him compared to everyone else. Elain assumed that your relationship had always been like that, but now she wasn’t so sure..

“ Are you alright?” Azriel asks you, his hand twitches slightly, part of him restrains himself, the other yearned to reach out for you. But you were quick to recover, offering him a reassuring smile.

“ Yeah I’m fine, let’s go.” You placed your hands on both of them, winnowing them back to the town house. There Nuala and Cerridwen greeted the three of you. Nuala took the pots out of Elains hands, Cerridwen took the flowers and placed them in another vase. Elain begins gushing about the journey to Dawn, how gorgeous it was..You sighed exhausted leaving the space quietly to head to your own room. Azriel was about to follow you when Elain called for his help in the kitchen. Azriel hesitated staring up at the staircase. Why couldn’t he just talk to you? He’s a Shadowsinger, a spymaster, and he can pry details out of anyone but you. All he can feel is your emotions-your emotions... Elain had pulled Azriel from his thoughts as she hugged a pot to herself.

“Az? Are you coming?” She says as she waits for him to follow her to the garden. Again he hesitates but he feels a stirring in his chest. Azriel lifts up a hand instinctively touching it, a sharp sensation could be felt beneath his chest. It couldn’t be? Could it? Azriel’s eyes widen, Elain takes a breath “ I’ll be outside Az when you’re ready-“ Azriel moves his feet faster than his mind could process, he was out of the town house door, his wings pushing him off the ground shooting him into the sky, he needing some time to think..

___

The moons at its highest peak, your curtains flowing with gentle breeze that filtered through your bedroom. The candles and lights burnt out signaling that you were asleep, that was until you heard a creak in the floorboard, and the atmosphere changed, a darker presence filled the space. You were lying on your stomach, your hands slipping beneath the pillow as you grip the handle of the blade you’ve hidden beneath it. You felt the figure stop just before your bed frame, you could hear them bend down towards your face. As they reached for you, you swiftly reached out a free hand grabbing them, you flipped them onto the bed, rolling over pinning them down with your blade tucked against their neck in the most vulnerable area.

“ It’s only me” He whispers, the lights in the room reaching a dim hue, illuminating the area.

“ Jeez Az, I could’ve killed you” You replied tiredly, you pulled back the blade placing it on the end table. Azriel’s eyes followed your movement above him, your hips and legs straddling him, your hair in an unruly nature, from slumber. The candles hue amidst the room, caresses your face, your bare legs, your skin making it appear warm to the touch. You had worn a tunic that wasn’t yours, it hugged loosely around your body frame. The tunic looked oddly familiar to Azriel but then again he wasn’t so sure. All he wanted to do was rip whoevers tunic that belonged to, off of your body and replace it with his.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you-” He apologizes,”-I have one question I’d like to ask you” Azriel whispers, as he watches your facial expression twitch into a sleepy confusion.

“This couldn’t wait till morning?” You sighed as your hand moved to rub the sleep from your face. You remove yourself from him, you slip off the bed but not before Azriel caught your wrist. He shifts himself so that he sits up lifting himself off the bed. He towers over you, the candle's glowing light touches his features in a way that it could come off intimidating, but there was a more intimate, soft, texture that made him appear more angelic.

“ No I’m afraid not.” He admits.

You nod your head” What’s your question?”

“ How long have you known about the bond?”Azriel’s voice low, as if to test the waters but enough to plunge himself. He needed answers and after speaking with Rhys, it was his right.

“ What?” Your face dropped, your skin becoming clammy as nervousness passes through you, sleepiness evades you.

“ You heard me, answer the question” his eyes switch between both of yours, searching and evaluating. He tried to pinpoint every emotion you felt, he tried to feel you through, the only thing stopping him was- you.

“ It's not that simple-” You shook your head, pulling your wrist out of his hold. You weren’t prepared for this, you weren’t ready to unravel all that you worked so hard to ignore.

“ It is that simple” Azriel continued to pry, he didn’t need the bond to notice how uncomfortable and painful this topic was for you-it was news to him, he wanted the truth..no lies no games only the truth

“ No, it’s not. It’s complicated-“ You looked away from him moving to the other side of the room. You couldn't find the words to explain this situation, your reasoning. What if what you told him set him off? What if this ruins everything between your friendships? The alliance that has been created? So many thoughts and questions, never enough answers…but for Azriel you did have an answer to his question..

“ Complicated enough for you to leave.” It was then that feeling in your chest, it builds a thick pressure. A heavyweight on your shoulders, the air almost sucked out your lungs. “ Is that what you told Rhys when you were packing your bags?” You couldn’t breathe, Azriel’s footsteps followed you till he was right behind you. You faintly feel the pulse of his surprise and his anger, as if it was your own, but it had been so long since you’d tapped into the bond. You had spent a century ignoring it, shielding it, and now, it was muscle memory..

“ Don’t make me do this..” You whispered out, a silent plea to move on, to let this go.

“ You knew, and yet you decided not to tell me” His voice held a deep frustration, a deep want and need. He wasn’t going to give up, he had a way with finding out the truth..

“ That’s-not what happened..” You were again stumped with words, torn between giving in or lying, torn between running away or staying..

“ No? Then what happened?” He continues to look down at you, you refuse to meet his gaze. Azriel doesn’t take no for an answer moving towards the front. He stands in front of you. His smell, his faint emotions from the bond slowly consuming you. It surrounds you, his shadows dance along the edges of the room, waiting, watching, whispering.

“ Az-” You warned him, it was another weak attempt to fight him off. But he continued to poke, to pull, to pry, to grasp at anything you’d give him. You were tired, exhausted, hiding your emotions, your thoughts, your protected heart and mind bound to collapse, all secrets were meant to escape..

“ I want the truth, Y/N-”. You took a deep breath, your nerves running a mile a minute. His own anxiousness was replaced with a demanding thirst for the truth. A truth that belonged to him too. You’ve kept this wonderful secret to yourself, he watched as his own family found mates that paired well with them. Watching as their life finds the pieces to the puzzle it was missing. Deep down he wanted that very same thing. He felt as though he may not deserve it but he craved it, to be loved unconditionally… “-You owe me that much”

You sighed, your heart shattering, you gave in, you really hadn’t planned too but the look in his eyes-, “..Before Amarantha began her reign, Rhys made an offer to Thesan to let me stay in Velaris, as an emissary between the courts. It was then that I found out that we were mates… It was then that the deal was made.“

“All these years and you kept this to yourself, why?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“ Because I knew you were in love with Mor. I wasn’t going to take that from you. But I did wait for you, I waited a long time. But when it became an achingly slow desperation, I gave up. I practiced silencing the bond, so I couldn’t feel the emotions you felt when you were around other-women..romantically and lustily I mean. Then Elain came around and it was the same process. I’m exhausted, Azriel. I can’t keep doing this”

“ You didn’t bother to try! You’re running back home because you never thought to ask how I might’ve felt!” His jaw tenses, his head slightly tilted to the side, his frustration grows, at this notion of forcing the information out of you, when you should’ve let it happen, when you should’ve told him..

“ I didn’t because I wanted you to come to your own conclusion. I wanted it to be as natural as possible but you were so invested in Mor and Elain and I’m not one to take you away from that. But I also miss the people I care about, I miss my old home-It’s time for me to go-” You protested.

“ What does Rhys think of this?” Azriel jaw twitches.

“ He was the one who encouraged me to speak with Thesan-“

“ Is that what the discussion was between the two of you?” He presses.

“ Yes but-“ You attempt to defend yourself.

“ Y/N, what exactly did you say to him?” Azriel wanted every detail, every version of this story, of his story, of his mates-his mate.

“ I didn’t- I didn’t say anything. I asked if I could return home, and he told me that I should stay here, that if I truly wanted to come home then he’d considered it.” Your heart leaps into your throat, you swallow it back, the feeling collecting.

“ His answer wasn’t even a Yes” Azriel’s scoffs shaking his head, his hands on his hips as he looks at the floor and then away at the window.

“ Yes- but it’s my decision-“ You looked up at him, watching his movements carefully.

“ No it’s not, you’re not going back there.” He challenged, his eyes find their way back to yours.

“ You can’t decide that.” You tell him, the two of you hurting by the weight of your decision. Azriel’s own heart squeezes painfully, at how easy it was for you to say those words to him. You were his, he wasn’t going to let you just walk away, not without fighting for you.

“ Why not? You’d already decided to keep this to yourself regardless of how I felt” He takes a step forward his arms falling back down to his side.

“ Azriel please listen to me-“ You tried to reason, you tried to find a way to break through, he wasn’t thinking straight, you weren’t thinking straight, neither one of you.

“ No you listen, all those years, all those centuries, you were my friend, and you were someone who loved me. Loved me enough to sacrifice what you felt so I could find happiness. In the depths of my mind I have fought and searched for you without realizing that you were here in front of me..I was too blind to see it. ” His hands flew to your face, your jaw, cupping it, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. Your hands follow suit as your fingers grip his wrists. His shadows remove themselves from the dark corners of your room, shooting out to tangle around your wrists, not to pull your hands away but to hold you there in place. “ Please don’t run from me” He whispers, his forehead dipping down to rest on yours. His hands slide from your cheeks to the sides of your neck.

“ Az-I can’t stay” You replied quietly, your hands pulling at his wrists weakly at his. You both knew that you could take him down easily, but at this moment in time the two of you were struggling. The tension grew thick in the air. A sort of sharp feeling intensifies, the faded familiarity that was the bond, solidifies. You thought that you had successfully mastered the art of blocking the bond but no. Azriel must’ve truly accepted it, a different feeling takes over, Azriel hums at the feeling. You sucked in a breath.

“ You can’t leave without knowing I’ve accepted the bond” His nose brushes against yours. You shook your head once more, completely pushed Azriel away. Your hands fly to your head, your fingers tangling in your hairs. You wanted nothing more than to curl into yourself, this was too surreal, too overwhelming. You’d spent so long, alone, and working, on occasions waiting. Now you were uncertain, even more than you had been hours ago. Azriel could feel your indecisiveness, he just needed to bring you back to him.

Azriel followed you, he pulled your hands from your hair, one of them he placed on his chest, his heart beating beneath it, you couldn’t look at him. But you could feel the gentleness, the love that flowed through him into you. “ My heart, my soul belongs to you” he tries again. You could feel your body sag at the feeling of comfort. It was so intense and welcoming. You wanted to wrap yourself in it-but you fought it, you were so used to the fighting, the restraint, the self control. “Let go” His voice reaches into the depths of your mind, into your soul, calling out to you.

You placed your forehead on his chest, your hand leaving the area above his heart. Azriel’s wings moved to surround you, his shadows moved to get to you, tangling themselves in your hair, caressing your face and hands. They speak to you wishing you nothing but love and happiness. They bring you comfort, your eyes fluttering shut.

“ Y/N” Azriel calls out. You could feel his hands cupping your face once more tilting it upwards, his breath light. You could feel how close he was, Azriel was right there, all he needed to do-Az’s lips crashed down onto yours, so soft, and yet his kiss held all his desperation, his passion. He couldn’t hold back, not with you, not when he loved you so. You weren’t surprised, in fact you hadn’t realized how much you yearned for his touch, his kiss. Azriel turns his head to the side deepening the kiss, a quiet moan slips out. By the cauldron Azriel loved to hear that sound, he wanted to hear it again, and again, and again. For as long as he lived and breathed.

You were putty in his hands, the feeling of his touch, his thoughts, his emotions was putting you in overdrive. Your mind couldn’t comprehend nor catch up to the pace in which things were happening. Azriel lets go of your lips for a brief moment, allowing you a chance to breathe, a whimper and the need for air also escapes your lips. Azriel had to fight the urge to keep himself from taking you right then and there. You had the urge to let him do it, you placed your hands on his chest pushing him back a step. You couldn’t think with him in your space, Azriel wasn’t going to budge, but with the way you were so caught up and caught off guard, he let you take a second.

“Okay-“ You breathed out. Azriel’s eyes light up, a smile threatens to break out. “ I-um-“ You cleared your throat,”Uh-I-I accept the bond..” you whispered the last part. Azriel’s heart gave a squeeze of joy, his chest filled with lightness, with happiness and relief. All he had ever hoped for had finally come to fruition. A twinkle of mischief sparks in his eyes, a smirk finds its way onto his beautiful features.

“ What was that?” He asks, yet you squint your eyes at him, you know he heard, he knows he heard you, but he wanted you to say it again. “-I didn’t quite hear you” You bit the inside of your cheek still squinting at him. You sighed, your body began to relax, your facial expressions changing to that of a sheepishness. You were struggling to admit it, Azriel waited for you patiently.

“ I-“

“ Yes?”

“ Az” You raised your eyebrows at him, as if to say I’m trying here.

“ I’m sorry, please go on.” He encourages you.

You sighed as you tried again this time “ I accept the bond-” You are much more confident and certain. “I’ve loved you since I’ve known you. You were right, my heart and soul belongs to you-“Azriel couldn’t contain himself much longer as took you into his arms and spun you around. A victorious grin graced both of your features, and for once the weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy in your chests. You gave a light hearted giggle, your heart swooning. Azriel places you back on the ground. You smiled brightly, the twinkle reaching your eyes. “This is happening?” You asked out loud, you searched for clarification.

“ Yeah it is” Azriel let go grabbing your hand pulling you towards the window. You tilted your head to the side, a sweet smile on your lips, a playful yet teasing expression stretches onto Azriel’s face. “Do you trust me?” his hand extends outward.

“ Yes.” You lift your hand to place it into his, this time a new height sense fills both your bodies. The touch feels like a loving hum on your skin. Your minds, your souls, finally resting after all the searching that it had done. You place your hand in his, he guides you out of the window onto the terrace of the town house. You followed him blindly, willingly. Azriel stood taller in the moonlight, and the stars above shining, his shadows nowhere to be found, it was just him. “ Az wait- Elain-“

“She knows, and I’m sure she will be upset with me, but she has Lucien..She doesn’t need me.” He nods. You watch him closely, as you slowly lift a hand to caress his cheek, the touch sweet and warming. Azriel instinctively leans into your touch, turning his head slightly to kiss the palm of your hand.

“ I’m sorry” You whispered, you realized that you may have ruined a friendship for him, a little bit more than a friendship..

“ No I’m sorry” he replies as he takes you back into his arms, the sounds of the city's music playing amongst the trees, the flowers, the plants, the night sky seeming more inviting, more alive. All Azriel knew was in this moment in time he finally understood the accept of the bond, the waiting, the calling, you had always been there waiting for him, you gave him time, space, anything he needed to figure himself out..All those times he spent with other women- then it dawned on him, had you done the same? You chuckled upon feeling that jealous emotion. “ Who’s tunic are you wearing?”

“ Az, it’s yours”

“ What-“ You peel yourself out of his arms.

“ This tunic you let me borrow on a mission we had, remember? Court of nightmares? I was stuck in a brothel, I ended up fighting my way out, my clothes were completely shredded?” You offered bits and pieces of the memory, Azriel’s takes a moment to recollect and it hits him.

“ Yes I remember, you ate a bowl of soup that night at one of the hostels. You hated it,” He chuckled as he remembered the disgusted look on your face. You laughed alongside him. You moved to head back towards your room but Azriel was quick to catch your hand.

”Where are you going?”

“Um-to make you something, we still have to seal the bond.”

“ Not here”

“ Then where?” Azriel grins as he throws one of your arms around his neck, one catches your back the other catches your knees.

“ Somewhere private, where I can have you all to myself, no distractions, just you and me” He whispers to you, his face dipping closer to yours, you sucked in a small breath, the blood beneath your skin singing, practically humming. His arms tightened their hold on you pressing you as flush to him as possible. Azriel looks away and upwards towards the night sky, his wings strong as they help push the two of you off the ground. Excitement filled the air, the night, seemed sweeter, less stuffy, inviting. You guessed that Thesan was right for making you stay here, to reconsider, you were thankful that he pointed you back in the direction of your mate. Azriel was happy that his brother fought for his love, fought for him to find happiness. It was more than just two courts keeping a civil peace, it was about two souls that needed to find each other, even if it takes a century.

[81pastrys]

Mini Bwoah

Part 1 / 10

Summary— Little Raïkkönnen is making her mark, but her dad doesn’t think she celebrates enough

Warnings— mentions of drinking

A/N— I absolutely love this series 🤭

Series List

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws

“Another podium for you how does it feel?”

“Uhm good, yeah.” I say.

“That was your 5th career podium.” The interviewer said. “In only your debut in Formula one.”

“Well my dad had 103 after 20 years so.” I say.

“Alright thank you!” They say and I walk to the next one and so on. They’re so annoying. I go to the paddock and my dad is there.

I walk up and hug him. “Good job today.” He said.

“Thank you isi.” I say. “The media is just ehh today.”

“They’re always like that, never gets old.” He said. “Give them dry answers and they’ll move on.”

“Always, that’s what you did!” I say.

He retired last year, and I entered. I didn’t get his spot, but I did get a Mercedes spot.. “Only 18 and you’re doing amazing!” Lewis said.

“Thank you!” I say.

“The media pen isn’t happy though.” He said. “Called you dry with answers.”

“Well.” I say. “What do they expect?”

“Apparently more than what you’re giving them.” Lewis laughed. “Little kimi following her dad’s footsteps.”

“Ehh.” I disagree without words.

“Following?” My dad said. “She’s passing me.”

“She’s still amazingly good.” Lewis compliments.

We do the podium and celebrate. The media calls a press with the top 5. Me, Lewis, Lando, Oscar, and Alonso surprisingly enough. They ask all the questions and I zone out for most of it.

“Raïkkönnen? Any thoughts?” One asked.

“What was the question?” I ask. The guys laugh and he repeats the question of ‘Mercedes performance gaining recognition’ “It was only a matter of time.” I respond. “I wouldn’t have joined if the performance was shit.”

Alonso nudges me and laughs. I look at him and smile. He’s one of my dad’s good friends. “Thank you.” The interviewer said. “How are you guys celebrating?”

“A nap.” I say quickly.

“Ouu I might steal that answer.” Lando said.

“Maybe a few bottles of champagne, huh little Kimi?” Alonso nudged me again. I smile at his answer and shake my head at him.

“I like Alonso’s answer.” Lewis laughed.

“Yeah me too.” Oscar agreed also.

I laugh with a hand on my forehead. They’re gonna get me in trouble. Last podium I went clubbing with the top 10, my dad wasn’t there so I drank and drank. Alonso had to cut me off.

“Partying and Naps to celebrate then.” The interviewer laughed.

After the interview and packing up, I’m back in my driver trailer for the night. My dad stays with me when he’s at races, it’s cheaper and we get more time together.

“What were they talking about at the press?” He asked.

“I was barely paying attention isi.” I say. “Something about partying.”

“Ahh, I did that a lot.” He said. “You should be partying right now.”

“Isi, no.” I scoff. “I don’t party.”

“Yes you do, Alonso told me about last time.”

“What?!” I ask.

“Yeah, he tells me everything about you.”

“Well that was one time.” I say.

“Come on, you have to party!” He encouraged. “You’re only 18 once.”

“Fine! Fine.” I say. “Find out where they are, I’ll get ready.”

“That’s my girl!” He laughed.

I go to my bags and find a clubbing outfit. I find a sparkly black tight dress with no straps, I must’ve shoved it in there and forgot about it. I put it on, doing my makeup and hair after. I go out and dad’s sitting on his phone. “Your driver has the location.” He said.

“Okay, I’ll be back later Isi.” I say walking out.

The next few get longer I promise

@widow-cevans

[noorpersona]

Rivalry: Atsumu

It had been years of this.

Years of Atsumu Miya being an unrelenting, aggravating presence in your life.

From the moment you met, he had been insufferable. Smug, fiercely competitive, and persistently irksome, he thrived on pushing every button you had. Every interaction with him was a battle—whether it was a disagreement over training schedules, a critique of his technique, or a casual observation about his erratic setting. He never let anything slide, twisting every word into an argument, every comment into an opportunity to outmaneuver you.

The worst part? You never backed down.

If he provoked, you retaliated. If he smirked, you sneered. He could infuriate you faster than anyone else, and he knew it—and he reveled in it.

And now, in your third year as the Inarizaki team manager, you had mastered the art of tolerating Atsumu Miya—

Until tonight.

Tonight, he’d finally gone too far.

The entire team had long since caught on to your dynamic.

Atsumu didn’t merely annoy you—he made a sport out of it.

If you walked into practice? He was already waiting, arms crossed, a cocky grin stretching across his face as he prepared some quip guaranteed to get under your skin.

“Yer late, manager,” he’d say, despite the fact that you never were.

If you so much as tried to correct something? He’d smirk, feigning surprise. “Oh? Maybe I should just hand ya my setter position, huh?”

And the worst part? The others loved it.

Osamu, Futakuchi, and even Kita occasionally leaned back and observed your fights like a live-action drama, amused by how predictably you two clashed.

“Ya know, at this point, I think ya like the attention,” Atsumu teased one afternoon, casually tossing a volleyball between his hands. “Yer always gettin’ worked up over me.”

You scoffed, arms crossed. “Oh, please. The day I enjoy anything about you is the day hell freezes over.”

Futakuchi nudged Osamu. “Tension’s thick today.”

Osamu smirked. “Give it five minutes. They’ll be yellin’.”

And five minutes later, Atsumu had said exactly the right thing to set you off, and the shouting commenced.

Practice had gone as usual, with only a few sharp remarks exchanged between you and Atsumu before it was over. You were exhausted, your muscles aching from running errands for the team all day, your patience wearing thin. All you wanted was to head home, collapse into bed, and forget that Miya Atsumu existed for a few blessed hours.

The team packed up in the club room, their chatter filling the space as they slung their bags over their shoulders. You barely noticed that Atsumu wasn’t among them as they filed out, too focused on getting the final tasks done so you could lock up and leave.

But when you walked into the gym, your plans crumbled.

Atsumu was still there, alone, setting balls into the air with effortless precision. His expression was intense, brows drawn together in concentration, jaw tight, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. The only sounds in the gym were the rhythmic thud of the volleyball meeting his hands and the slight squeak of his sneakers against the polished floor as he adjusted his stance.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. Of course. Of course he couldn’t just leave like a normal person.

His shirt clung to his body, damp with sweat, emphasizing the broad set of his shoulders and the way his forearms flexed every time he made contact with the ball. He moved with precision, power behind every motion, muscles tensing and releasing like a well-oiled machine. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good. Infuriatingly good.

But you didn’t care about that right now.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and sighed. "Seriously, Miya? Go home."

He barely looked at you before responding. "Suck my dick."

You scoffed. "You wish. Now pack up, or I’m locking you in here."

He ignored you, setting another perfect ball into the air. That was the last straw. Marching onto the court, you grabbed the nearest volleyball and chucked it at him. He caught it effortlessly, smirking.

"You gonna help, or just be a pain in my ass?" he taunted.

You turned on your heel and stormed toward the supply closet, yanking the door open with more force than necessary. The overhead light buzzed faintly as you stepped inside, the scent of disinfectant and old volleyballs filling your nose. Without hesitation, you grabbed a laundry basket full of towels and shoved it into Atsumu’s chest the moment you returned.

“You’re gonna help clean up tonight,” you said sharply, your voice edged with exhaustion and frustration.

Atsumu scoffed, letting the weight settle against his chest. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You stayed late to practice, and I have the keys to the gym. That means you’re packing up before I lock up for the night.”

Atsumu smirked, that lazy, infuriating smirk that made your blood boil. "But you're so much better at those kinds of things, ya know? We all have our strengths."

“Oh? And what's yours?”

He shrugged. “I score points.”

You wanted to strangle him. “I mean off the court, Miya. You brainless egomaniac.”

That smirk widened. "Damn, sweetheart, say it like ya mean it."

Your entire body tensed. If there was one thing—one thing—that set your blood boiling faster than anything, it was that nickname. The way he said it, like it was his own personal joke, a word meant to patronize, to needle at you in a way that no one else dared. It was never affectionate, never playful—not in the way others might say it. No, when Atsumu called you sweetheart, it was dripping with arrogance, a smirk wrapped around syllables meant to get under your skin.

And god, did it work.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, jaw tightening so hard it ached. "Don't. Call. Me. That."

His smirk only grew, as if he had been waiting for that exact reaction. "What? Don't like it? Thought ya might warm up to it by now."

"I'd rather set myself on fire."

Atsumu chuckled, slow and smug, like he'd already won this round. "Now that is dramatic."

You threw a towel at his face, and he caught it effortlessly, his smirk widening. "Temper, temper," he taunted, shaking his head like you were the one being unreasonable. "Y'know, if ya wanted me to get all sweaty cleanin' up, ya coulda just asked nicely." You only roll your eyes in disgust.

“Take those to the supply closet. And don’t start with your usual bullshit, just do what I say for once.”

Atsumu tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something sharp. “Bossy.”

You inhaled sharply, jaw clenching. The way he looked at you—like he thrived on how easily he could rile you up—made your skin prickle. “Miya, I swear to—”

“Fine, fine,” he drawled, rolling his eyes as he slung the towels over his shoulder. His smirk deepened as he eyed you, a flicker of amusement dancing behind those infuriatingly sharp eyes. "Must be exhausting bein’ so uptight all the time. Ya ever tried just... relaxin'? Oh, wait, guess that'd require ya to actually remove that stick from  yer ass."

Your blood boiled instantly, a sharp sting of irritation spreading through your chest. Exhaustion and frustration swirled together into something combustible, something that snapped your already frayed patience. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you fought the urge to throw something harder than a towel at his smug, insufferable face. Without thinking, you stomped past him, heading into the supply closet, letting out a frustrated breath as you grabbed another piece of equipment to throw at him if necessary.

"Maybe if your setting was as reliable as your big mouth, I wouldn’t have to waste my breath on you,” you spat, voice cold and cutting.

Atsumu went rigid. His smirk flattened into something unreadable, but his eyes—those sharp, burning eyes—flashed with something dark, something livid.

In an instant, he was storming after you. Before you could react, he followed you into the supply closet, his movements sharp and full of barely restrained anger. The door slammed behind him, the echo bouncing off the walls.

"The fuck did you just say to me?" His voice was low, lethal, his usual teasing edge completely gone.

You whirled around, arms crossing over your chest. "You heard me, Miya. Maybe if you focused on actually being consistent instead of running your mouth, you wouldn't have to work overtime trying to convince people you're the best."

His nostrils flared, jaw clenched so tight you could practically hear his teeth grinding. "You think I got this far by bein' inconsistent? By bein' a fuckin' joke?"

"I think you got this far because you talk so much shit, people actually start to believe it," you bit back. "But I'm not like the rest of your fangirls, Miya. Your act doesn’t work on me."

Atsumu let out a low, humorless laugh, stepping closer. Too close. "Ya really think you know me, huh?" His voice was dangerous now, quiet and sharp like a blade pressed just beneath your skin. "Yer full of shit."

"And you're full of yourself."

The air was thick, charged with something volatile, something unstable. His hands were curled into fists, his breath coming in sharp exhales. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his fury rolling off in waves.

You scoffed in disgust, shaking your head as a bitter smirk pulled at your lips. "You're pathetic."

Atsumu’s nostrils flared, his jaw tightening dangerously, but you were already turning away, reaching for the door handle to get as far away from him as possible.

Then your stomach dropped.

The knob refused to turn.

Atsumu frowned. "The hell are ya doin’?"

You twisted the knob again, harder. Still nothing.

Your throat went dry. "The door is locked."

Atsumu snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure it is." He reached out, confidently twisting the handle—

Nothing.

Atsumu frowned, twisting harder. Still nothing.

Silence.

Then, without missing a beat—

“Yeah, like I didn’t try that,” you deadpanned.

Atsumu’s scowl deepened, his frustration crackling in the air between you. "You’ve gotta be fuckin' kidding me. This is all your fault."

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. "Oh, right, because I totally planned to lock myself in a closet with you of all people."

"Yer mouth sure makes it sound like ya did." His voice was low, edged with something sharp. "Maybe ya just wanted me all to yourself."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Please. If I wanted something all to myself, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you."

Atsumu took a step closer, his presence closing in on you like a storm. "Keep talkin’, princess. Let’s see if ya can keep that smart mouth runnin’ when we’re stuck in here all night."

"Oh, fuck you, Miya," you snapped, stepping forward to meet his glare head-on. "You are without a doubt the most infuriating, self-obsessed asshole I have ever met."

His lips curled into a sneer. "And you’re the most uptight, high-strung pain in the ass I’ve ever met."

"Oh yeah? Well, at least I don’t have to spend every waking second convincing everyone I’m the best. News flash—if you actually were, you wouldn’t have to try so hard."

His eyes darkened, his entire body stiffening at your words. "You wanna talk about trying too hard? How ‘bout ya take a fuckin’ look in the mirror? Always actin’ like ya hate me, but yer always up in my business. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think ya like this."

You scoffed, tilting your head in disbelief. "God, you’re delusional."

"And you’re a fuckin’ hypocrite." He was even closer now, his breath hot, his voice tight with rage. "You always act like ya can’t stand me, but here ya are, pushin’ up against me like ya wanna make this somethin’ else."

The worst part?

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Your chests were nearly brushing, your ragged breaths intermingling. Your skin was burning, your hands clenched at your sides, every inch of you wound too tight. The anger, the frustration, the way he always got under your skin—it was all-consuming.

And then, suddenly, neither of you were talking anymore.

Atsumu’s mouth was on yours before you could process it, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was just as furious as your fights. You yanked him down by the collar, fingers tangling into the damp fabric of his shirt, pulling him in hard enough to hurt. He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist, pressing you back against the closet shelves as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was years of pent-up aggression and frustration, a battle neither of you wanted to win. Teeth clashed, hands grabbed, nails dug into skin. The heat between you was unbearable, suffocating, and neither of you had the willpower to pull away.

Atsumu nipped at your bottom lip, his breath hot against your mouth as he muttered, "Knew ya wanted me."

Shut up, Miya." You bit back.

And then you kissed him again, drowning out whatever cocky response he had left.

Atsumu wasn’t satisfied with just kissing you. His frustration, his irritation, his hunger bled into every movement as he pushed forward, backing you up until your spine hit the cold surface of the supply closet door. The impact barely registered, not when his hands were gripping at your waist, fingers digging into your sides like he was trying to mark you, claim some kind of dominance even here.

You gasped against his mouth, the moment of vulnerability only spurring him on. His lips left yours for half a second—just long enough for him to smirk. “Told ya,” he murmured, voice husky, breath hot against your skin. “You just needed me to shut ya up properly.”

You barely had time to react before he was kissing you again, harder, more desperate. Your hands found their way to his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck and pulling—a move that ripped a deep, guttural groan from his throat. The sound shot straight down your spine, heat pooling in your stomach, making your breath hitch.

His hands slid down, gripping the backs of your thighs, and without a second of hesitation, you wrapped your legs around his waist. He held you effortlessly, as if supporting your weight meant nothing to him. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, making you shudder. He lingered there, his teeth scraping before his mouth latched onto your skin with deliberate pressure. You barely registered the sensation, too caught up in the heat of the moment, too focused on the way his body pressed against yours. But his smirk against your neck said otherwise—like he knew exactly what he was doing, leaving his mark before trailing his lips back to yours.

The warmth of his touch burned through the thin fabric of your clothes, his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made your head spin. His hands started to wander, moving up beneath your shirt, his touch searing—

And then the door burst open.

Atsumu lost his balance. With a startled grunt, he stumbled forward, dragging you with him as you both spilled out of the closet and onto the hard gym floor.

“What the hell?!”

You barely had time to register the situation before a voice rang out above you.

“The fuck are you two doin’ in here?”

Your eyes shot up to see the janitor, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, face twisted in the most unimpressed expression you had ever seen.

Silence.

Neither you nor Atsumu moved. You were still on top of him, his hands still on your thighs, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders. The position was beyond compromising.

The janitor raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t cleanin’ up after this.”

Atsumu let out a breathless chuckle beneath you, his smirk returning full force. “Guess we got caught, huh, sweetheart?”You shoved him off you so hard he hit the floor with a thud, scrambling to your feet, face burning with embarrassment. “Shut up, Miya!”

[spideybatsy]

Late Night

Summary: GN!Reader gets a cleaning job working at Wayne Enterprises when a certain billionaire playboy develops an obsession with them. Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader WC: 3K Warnings: being watched without knowing, mentions of erections, nothing too serious. Notes: Can be read as any batsy you’d like, I personally picture Bale bc I’m a slut for him <3 This is the first chapter in my new series! I haven't written in a year, so be kind Masterlist

The wind pressed against your sweat slick skin as you stepped into the shadow of Wayne Tower. A shiver rolled down your spine, half caused by the weather and half by the ravenous butterflies in your stomach. Starting a new job is never easy but God, you have never needed a job as much as you need this one.

The renewal of your lease brought a steep increase in rent at the same time as your boss announced he was closing the business. You couldn’t really say you were surprised, the bakery was definitely a front for something nefarious, why else would the GCPD come in every other week?

It was a shame, really. You loved working at the bakery, especially during those quiet moments when you could just sit there and watch the world go by. God knows you’ll be rushed off your feet now.

Cleaning wasn’t your first choice, nor was it your second. Hell, it wasn’t even on the list. But you were not in the position to be anything but grateful when your friend mentioned an opening at their work. The hours weren’t the best but the pay was surprisingly good.

You walked into the building and were immediately shoved by someone sprinting to the lift. Taking a deep breath, you regained your bearings, straightened your shirt, and headed for security. You’d been in the building only once, for your interview, but figured you’d need some sort of pass to get into the actual offices. 

The security man who served you was disarmingly attractive and you couldn’t help but blush as he ran his eyes down your figure. His hair was a dirty blonde, pushed back and behind his ears. 

“First day?”

“That obvious?” 

He chuckled, before asking for your name and looking you up on the system.  “I’ll just call your supervisor, Emily, to come down.” 

“Thank you.” The two of you fell into an almost awkward silence. “How, uh, long until your shift finishes?”

“I’m on a morning today, so I finish at 12. How about you?” 

“Well, I’ll usually be doing the 4 till 10 shift but they wanted me in earlier today. So, I'll finish around 3.” 

“Too bad.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Well, I would’ve loved to take you out for dinner.” Were your cheeks on fire or was it suddenly just really hot in here? “Maybe it’ll have to be lunch instead.”

You opened your mouth to respond but was interrupted by Emily calling your name. 

“There you are, I’ve been waiting for you!”

You flashed a sorry smile at him and rushed over to your friend's side. 

“Hey, what’s that guard's name?” Although you knew he couldn’t hear you from here, you still whispered.

You cringed as Emily started to turn back, quickly reaching out and stopping her.

“I think that’s Russell.” She whispered back, “Why?”

“He asked me out on a date.”

“Really?” Well, no more whispering. You simply nodded your head, following her into the lift. “You don’t even have your access pass and you’ve got the men drooling. You dirty stop out.” 

“I haven’t slept with him!”

“Yet.”

“I’ll be telling HR you called me a slut.”

“Hoping they’ll sleep with you too?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing her slightly with your shoulder. As the numbers on the lift drew higher, the two of you settled down. Joking with your friend was one thing but you needed people here to take you seriously, even if you were just the cleaner.

“Are the people here nice?” You weren’t expecting your voice to sound so… small.

Emily looked over at you, affectionately bumping your shoulder. “Yeah, most of them are lovely.” 

“What about the others?”

“Fuckable.”

The lift doors opened and filled the floor with the sound of your combined laughter. 

—-

“And down here, you have Mister Wayne’s office.” You followed Emily down the hallway, looking into an office and making eye contact with an older man. You gave him a quick smile and was pleased when he returned it. 

“That’s Lucius Fox, he’s really the boss.”

“What about Bruce Wayne?” 

“What about him?” Emily stopped at the front of the last door.

“Well, it’s Wayne Enterprises, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

You couldn’t help but gasp as she threw the door open, jumping to apologise to the aforementioned man. 

Only, he wasn’t there.

Emily laughed, walking further into the room. “He’s hardly here, probably recovering from his drunken nights spent with supermodels.”

You hesitantly followed her in, amazed by the so-called office. This one room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. It definitely had better views. 

“I’m not sure you should be talking about our boss like that,” you mumbled, walking over to the floor to ceiling windows. 

Emily came to stand next to you, “it’s not like he’s ever here to hear it.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you jolted around, instantly fearing the worst. Was it possible you could be fired before you even got your first paycheck? How were you going to pay rent now?

You couldn’t tell if you should be relieved or not when you realised it was the man you’d smiled at earlier. Lucius Fox. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Emily replied, turning back to the view. 

Oh my God. What was she doing? “Please excuse my friend, Mr Fox. I think she meant-”

“I know what she meant,” he responded while walking over. 

You opted to say nothing and pretended to look out the window, wishing for the tension to dissipate as quickly as possible.

“You’re scaring them to death, Fox.” 

The older man laughed, coming to rest his hand on your shoulder. “Worry not, dear. You’ll grow used to the banter.”

The tension started melting from your shoulders, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

—

Within two weeks, you’d fallen into a comfortable routine. You came into work at 3:45 to make yourself a tea and read your book, before starting work at 4. You start at the side furthest from Wayne’s office, as they left the earliest. By the time you reached the common areas, the rest of the staff would be leaving, only Fox remaining. He was always the last one to leave, usually close to 7. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, since you knew he was typically the first person in the office too. So, you’d bring him a decaffeinated coffee around 5pm. You’d find yourself talking to him for a while, usually about stories from the past that you could both laugh about. 

Truth be told, you were starting to really enjoy the man's company. He had a dry sense of humour that you found hilarious. Being in the office late could be rather lonely, so you clung onto the moments you had with him. 

A positive of working alone in the office was that you could play all your music out loud. You’d recently gotten into a podcast where three friends read stories and discussed them. A lot of them were light hearted or ‘am i the asshole’ reddit posts.

Tonight, you listened to their supernatural episode as you finished up in Fox’s office when you heard a bang down the hallway. Slowly, you creeped to the door to peep down the corridor but there was no one there.

Maybe the ghost stories were getting to you. You shook your head and turned back into the office when you heard the noise again. Jumping, you looked toward the sound. The only thing down there was Mr Wayne’s office.

Clutching your mop between closed fists, you edged down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and rushed in, hoping to catch the perpetrator in action.

Only the office was empty, of course it was. You couldn’t help the relief that coursed through your veins. It was obviously going to be empty, you had yet to see The Bruce Wayne in this room. You were starting to wonder if it had even been used. Maybe Fox should get this office, that way someone can appreciate the view.

You laughed quietly to yourself before turning off the podcast and putting on some tunes. That was more than enough scares for you tonight.

Unbeknownst to you, you were not alone. A certain billionaire had stumbled in here before his night duty, expecting to find the place empty as usual. He hadn’t been in for a few weeks now but things rarely changed this high in the building.

Then you’d burst into the room, armed with a mop and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. You were the single most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Who were you and what were you doing here? 

He couldn’t help the way his dick twitched in his trousers. No. Now is not the time. 

He stayed in the shadows and watched you work, diligently going from one room to another before stopping in the kitchen to make a drink. You pulled a book out of your bag and read for a while. Bruce found himself creeping closer, eager to see what you were reading. 

Then you looked up and it seemed like you were staring straight at him. He knew you couldn’t see him but he couldn’t stop the way his heart stuttered in his chest. Nor the way his lower half jolted. 

What was it about you that made his infamous control slip? He’d never had this issue, not even as a teenager.

Your eyes widened as you kept gazing in his direction and he slowly turned his head. The bat symbol drifted amongst the clouds. 

He held back a sigh as he shifted further into the darkness. 

Maybe he was due a visit back into the office, after all. 

—

Or maybe not. 

It had been a week since Bruce first saw you in his office, clutching a mop like your life depended on it. Sometimes, when he lay awake in his bed, he thought about how oblivious you were to his presence that night. And every night since.

He should really get you some self defence classes, perhaps send them as a gift from Wayne Enterprises. He hated thinking about what could’ve happened if he really was a burglar. He could only keep you so safe, you needed to be able to handle yourself. 

Then he felt a bit crazy. Here he was, talking about you like you were… part of his life. Although, he supposed at this point you were part of his life. He just wasn’t part of yours. Too many times he’d driven to the building just to never get out of his car.

He’d asked Fox about you at his last equipment meeting. He tried to act nonchalant about it, casually asking if there were any new staff on the top floor. 

“We have a new cleaner.” Fox said, relaying your name. “They’ve been here for about three weeks. Settling in very well.”

Bruce repeated your name, strangely satisfied by the way it rolled off his tongue. 

“May I inquire why you’ve asked about them?” Fox’s words caught Bruce off guard. “You’ve never been interested in the Wayne staff before.”

“Just keeping up to date with the comings and goings of my fathers legacy.” Bruce suddenly found the kevlar padding very interesting. 

“Better late than never, I suppose.” Fox hummed, running his fingers across the fabric. “This kevlar is half the weight of your current gear.”

“Is it still as durable?”

You didn’t come up in the conversation again but Fox filed the information away, eager to ask Alfred about it. 

—

“What does your partner think about you working so late?”

Fox’s question caught you completely off guard, causing you to almost spurt out your tea. He immediately grabbed the tissues off his desk, handing them to you.

“Forgive me, it was an inappropriate question.” 

“No, no, no. It’s fine.” You said, finally swallowing down your mouthful. “I, uh, don’t have a partner. So, I don’t think they mind.”

“I suppose that makes two of us.” 

Before you could respond, he tactfully changed the conversation. 

—

“They’re single, you know.” 

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t look away from his newspaper. “Whose single, Alfred?”

His heart almost broke free from his chest when Alfred said your name. 

“How would you know that?” Bruce’s words were more rushed than he would’ve liked, the newspaper long forgotten on the table.

“Every old man has his secrets.”

“You spoke to Fox,” Bruce sighed. “They probably thought he was coming onto them.”

“Worried you have competition, Master Wayne?” 

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“You know, I may not be the master of romance but I hear that the first step in any relationship is to talk to each other.” 

“Obviously,” Bruce muttered, picking his newspaper back up.

“What you’re doing right now has a name, Master Wayne.” 

“And what is that?”

“Stalking.”

Bruce couldn’t help but flinch at the word. He turned to defend himself but Alfred was already gone, leaving him a pot of tea. 

—

You were sitting in the kitchen, tea in one hand and your book in the other. You’d found yourself in the office a bit earlier than usual but didn’t mind. It was always good to have some time to wind down before you started your shift. 

“What are you reading?” 

You couldn’t help but inwardly sigh, putting your bookmark in. “Just a-” Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up. If Russell was attractive, this man was downright gorgeous. A face carved for a god with luscious hair combed behind his ear. 

He looked eerily familiar but you couldn’t quite place him. You could feel your cheeks heat up as you bought your gaze back down to the book.

“I’ve never heard of The Dry Heart before,” Bruce’s heart leapt from his chest as he took the seat across from you. “What’s it about?”

You sneaked a glance up at him but immediately looked back down when you made eye contact. “It’s about an unhappy marriage, I’m reading it for a book club.”

He hummed, his eyes searching your face. You were even more breath-catching up close. “You must be our new cleaner,” you liked the way he said your name far too much. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you.”

“You have?” Who was this man? You would remember seeing such a gorgeous face among the office. 

“I try to meet all the new employees but I’ve been a bit slack lately, please forgive me.”

You slowly lifted your eyes to look at him and couldn’t help the way your lips lifted. 

“Consider it forgotten,” you said softly.

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Fox. 

“Mr Wayne, how lovely to see you again.” Lucius came in and stood beside you. “I see you’ve met our latest employee.”

Your eyes shoot, Mr Wayne? Surely not. In your rushed state, you completely missed the way Fox smirked at Bruce, causing the younger man to stare daggers back at him.

“Of course, it’s important to know everyone in the office.” 

Fox hummed, turning back to you. “Please excuse us, I have a very important meeting to drag Mr Wayne into.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You had a hard time even saying the words, your mind whirling. Wasn’t Bruce Wayne an arrogant asshole? This man was the furthest from that. He was so kind and funny. And good looking. Holy shit was he good looking.

No, you’re not doing that. Not to your boss. Especially not when your boss is a world famous womaniser. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow him as he walks out or the way they trail down to his perfect ass. Entering the hallway, Fox rolls his eyes when he sees the massive smirk on Bruce’s face. 

—

“I was hoping I’d find you here.”

You can’t help but jump as Bruce walks into the kitchen. “Mr. Wayne, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Please,” he sits down at the table and smiles at you. “Call me Bruce.”

“Okay, Bruce.” 

Bruce savours the way his name rolls off your tongue and how your cheeks go bright red under his gaze. His eyes follow as your blush spreads down your neck and under your neckline. 

“I usually take the new employees out for lunch, your turn is well overdue.” He takes a moment before continuing. “I guess ours would be more like dinner.”

“I suppose so,” you smile at him, oblivious to his wandering gaze. “But you don’t have to do that, Bruce. It’s fine, honestly.”

“I insist. How about tonight?”

You brought a lousy microwave dinner for tonight but there’s no reason why it can’t wait for tomorrow. Plus, who doesn’t like a free dinner? Lost in thought, Bruce takes the opportunity to study the way you bite your lip and store it away for later. 

“Sure, tonight is good.”

—

You weren’t sure what to expect during dinner but it wasn’t this. Bent over, your hand clutching your side in an attempt to ease your stitch as you laugh hysterically. Bruce is laughing too, his smile so big it shows his perfectly pearly whites.

“No way, you’re lying.” You gasp between breaths.

“I wish,” Bruce looks away in faux-shame. “I wasn’t always the smoothest.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Your laugh settles into a smile. 

“Why’s that?” He sounds genuine when he asks, curious even.

“Well, look at you.” You immediately heat at the implication, quickly stuttering off an excuse. This is not a date. “Y-You’re The Bruce Wayne. It would’ve been a-all over the newspapers if you, uh, messed up.”

Bruce merely hums, his eyes dropping down to your lips as you bite away at them again. 

This is bad. You cannot be flirting with the boss, especially not your boss's boss. Sure, he might be into it now but he’s not known to stick around with the same person for long. You can not afford to lose this job if things go bad.

You’re saved by the server coming back to drop off the check. Bruce’s hand grasps yours as you go to take the check, sending a bolt of electricity down your arm. His eyes find your own, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’ve got you.”

Fuck. 

[youkeepmehigh]

Kevin’s Heart

Ekko x fem!reader 18+ This is for future use in my new Wattpad series The Butterfly Effect sooo you should definitely check it out ;) Also I listened to the song Kevin’s Heart by J. Cole while writing this hence the title so if you want you should listen to it while you read this or just listen it whenever it’s a good song lol

Ekko is a hard worker guy, leading the Firelights and working on all his little projects in his workshop and like everyone else he gets stressed out from time to time. Especially when he locks himself up in his workshop for hours and maybe even days on end. Everyone’s too scared to check on him, afraid they’ll get cussed out for disturbing him but not you.

You sat on the bed in his workshop just watching him with a slight frown. He’d write something down, try and go with, realize it wouldn’t work, erase. He repeated that cycle many times before getting frustrated. “Fuck!” He cursed throwing his pencil down on his desk before leaning back in his chair, pinching his nose bridge and sighing heavily as he tried to keep himself composed.

You got up from the bed quietly making your way towards him. You stood behind him massaging his tense shoulders. “You’re gonna burn yourself out at this rate…” You practically whispered in his ear, you felt him slowly start to relax, melting at your touch. “I know…” He said softly as he took his hand away from his face resting it in his lap, you let out a soft hum a small smile forming on your face as an idea formed in your head.

“You wanna take a little break?” You asked as you ran your hands down his chest, making your voice so soft and sweet he couldn’t immediately dismiss you. “What’s going on up in that little head?” He asked tilting his head up at you, earning a small giggle from you. You gently ran your hands back up his chest stopping at his neck, you gave him a small yet somewhat passionate kiss getting a small groan out of him.

“You just relax while I take care of you, yeah?” You responded turning his chair away from his desk, you walked in front of him before getting on your knees making him visibly flustered. “Take…care of me?” He repeated feeling his stomach do flips just from seeing you like this, was what he thinking really about to happen? He’d never had a blowjob before…but he wasn’t going to admit it, no way.

“Mhmmm.” You hummed as you ran your hands along his thighs slowly making your way up to the belt of his pants, so very…antagonizing. He let out a small sigh as he leaned back slightly spreading his legs a bit wider. “That’s it, forget about everything else.” You said softly as your hands finally made it to his belt slowly unfastening it. He couldn’t resist just staring at you and your hands watching your every move, his dick activity growing in his pants.

Once you unfastened his belt you slightly pulled his pants down, met with his boxers and the bulge coming from underneath. “Someone’s excited to see me.” You teased as you put a hand on his lower abdomen slowly running it down his abs and his happy trail taking a moment to admire the short white hairs leading all the way under his boxers, you continued before stopping at his waistband for a moment before grabbing it and pulling it down, his cock practically burst out.

He was incredibly hard and big like more than you intentionally thought he was, you weren’t going to back down though you came so far already might as well finish the job. You were stuck in thought for a moment looking at it before being broken out of it by him saying something. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.” He teased waiting for you to make your next move, he was secretly trying to mask his nervousness with cockiness. “I don’t get cold feet.” You replied before taking a hand and grabbing his dick giving it slow strokes, if anything you were just being really bold right now. He let out a small huff at the sudden contact keeping his eyes locked on yours. You let out a giggle seeing his reaction starting to speed the strokes up.

After a few moments he was slowly becoming a mess. He was letting more desperate sounding moans and starting to squirm, he was trying his best not to though he wanted this moment to last for a good while. One thing he couldn’t stop was his hips instinctively thrusting into your hand every once in a while, letting out a small whimper as he did it. “Stay still.” You ordered as you sped up the pace even more making him let out a long groan.

He tried his best to stay as still as possible, his hands gripping the armrest of his chair. He never realized how rough his hands were compared to yours until now, yours were so soft almost as if you hadn’t lifted a finger your whole life at least compared to his. “Don’t be shy, use your words.” You teased as you slowly licked the leaking pre-cum off of his tip earning a moan out of him, making him toss his head back. “That feels so- so…fucking good…” He said softly, you were making it so hard to focus.

You couldn’t help but smile a bit seeing how much he liked this, you decided to take it a step further by wrapping your lips around his tip slowly bobbing your head on just his tip. “Oh my god…” he mumbled resting the back of his hand on his forehead, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. This already felt better than he ever had imagined, the high he was getting from this was different than any other high he’s felt. This high felt dangerous.

He felt almost as if he didn’t deserve any of this, to be treated like this, to be loved like this. But he felt too good to care right now.

You slowly started going down further and further, still stroking and twisting at him with one hand your other hand resting on his thigh. He glanced down at you watching you intensely, he felt like he might of just found the love of his life but it still felt so wrong having to a Plitie all over him like this. His hand went over to you tangling his fingers in your hair before grabbing you by it, he set the pace just the way he wanted it. Slow.

You let him do as he wanted, when you felt his hand gripping your hair you started to notice how wet this was actually making you. You slipped your free hand down your pants, starting to play with yourself as you sucked him off, rubbing your clit in circles. He let out more and more noises getting louder by the minute as he felt his release coming, he was worked up before but now you replaced it with a different type of worked up, the good kind.

“I’m so close…” he groaned, he started making the pace faster and pushed your head farther down. You let out a small whine as your circles became more faster and sloppy. He let out a small lighthearted laugh hearing you whine making your stomach do a flip.

His hands grip on you got a bit tighter as he came very close to cumming, despite his grip on you, you took the rest of his length in your mouth forcing him down your throat making tears build up in your eyes. Almost on command he came down your throat letting out a few moans and gasps as he did. “Fuck…” he said in almost a whisper as he looked down at you, you lifted your head up letting out a few coughs.

“Feel better?” You asked looking up at him earning a smile out of him, which you hadn’t seen in a while. “Much better.” He said as he leaned forward towards you giving you a long passionate kiss. “My turn to take care of you now huh?” He said after breaking the kiss.

Part 2?? ;)

Wattpad:

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 15 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇please don’t kill me for this chapter…

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

After days of tireless work, the crew stood back and admired their finished ships. Though patched with a mix of new wood and salvaged fragments from the wreckage, the vessels were sturdy enough to sail once more. Sweat glistened on their brows, but a sense of accomplishment hung in the air. Telemachus walked along the shore, inspecting the craftsmanship of each ship. He ran his hand over the freshly hammered nails and tightly secured ropes, nodding in satisfaction. “It’ll hold,” he said, loud enough for the crew to hear. “You’ve all done well.”

Florus wiped his hands on his tunic, smiling faintly. “Demeter willing, they’ll get us to Skiaphos.”

Cassander, leaning on a newly polished oar, smirked. “And let’s hope the women there are worth all this trouble.”

Eurymachus chuckled. “They’d better be. I didn’t get splinters in my hands for nothing.”

Druses rolled his eyes, tightening the final knot on the sails. “The only thing waiting for us in Skiaphos is a fight. Maybe focus on that instead of your fantasies.”

Antinous, who had been unusually quiet, stood apart from the group, his sharp eyes fixed on the horizon. “The sooner we set sail, the sooner we can get to her.”

Pisistratus approached, his arms crossed. “We’ll need to pace ourselves. The ships are rebuilt, but they’re not indestructible. Let’s not let desperation sink us before we even reach the enemy.”

Telemachus turned to the crew. “Load up the supplies. We set sail at dawn.”

As the sun rose the next morning, the crew pushed the ships into the water, the waves lapping eagerly at the hulls. They climbed aboard, each man taking his position. Oars hit the water in unison, the sails unfurling to catch the wind. Telemachus stood at the helm, his gaze unwavering as the ships cut through the waves. “Hold steady,” he commanded.

Eurymachus and Cassander took to rowing with exaggerated enthusiasm, teasing each other about who could row faster. “You row like my grandmother!” Cassander laughed.

“At least my grandmother doesn’t need two hands to lift a jug of wine,” Eurymachus shot back.

Antinous scowled at them. “Would you two shut up? Save your energy for something useful.”

Druses sat near the mast, sharpening his blade. “If they’re not going to shut up, maybe I’ll throw them overboard. That’ll quiet them down.”

Pisistratus sighed, leaning against the railing. “And to think, we still have days of this ahead of us.”

Florus, standing near the bow, looked out at the open sea. “At least the ships are holding steady. That’s a good sign.” Telemachus tightened his grip on the wheel, his mind on y/n and Adonis. The crew’s banter faded into the background as the ships sailed onward, each man knowing the battles ahead would be far more grueling than anything they had faced thus far.

——

Y/n sat on the edge of the bed, cradling Adonis, her mind drifting back to distant memories of freedom. Her longing expression didn’t escape Raphael as he entered the room. His eyes, sharp and unrelenting, bore into her. “Why do you always look so far away?” Raphael asked, his voice calm but laced with an underlying menace.

She flinched but didn’t respond. Her silence only stoked his frustration. He strode toward her, taking Adonis from her arms and placing him gently into his crib. Then, he turned back to her, his demeanor growing darker. “You belong to me,” he whispered, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to her feet. “Yet you sit here, dreaming of someone else, don’t you?”

She shook her head quickly, her voice trembling. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Raphael cut her off, his nails digging into her arm as he pulled her closer. Her eyes widened as he dragged her to a chair and forced her to sit. From a drawer, he retrieved a small heated iron nail with a sharp tip. The sight of it made her heart race.

“W-What are you doing?” she stammered, struggling against his hold.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead pinning her arm to the table. His lips curled into a cruel smile. “If you’re so set on forgetting who you belong to, then I’ll make sure you never forget again.” Before she could protest, Raphael’s nails pressed against the tender skin of her forearm. With sharp, deliberate motions, he began carving his name into her flesh. She screamed in pain, tears streaming down her face as he worked methodically.

“Ra-pha-el,” he spelled out coldly, his voice devoid of sympathy as he carved the letters. Then, next to his name, he etched a small heart, the symbol mocking her pain. When he was finished, he leaned back, admiring his work. Blood welled up from the marks, but he didn’t seem to care. He grabbed a cloth and wiped her arm clean, the red letters of his name stark against her skin.

“There,” he said, his voice soft but menacing. “Now you’ll never forget. You’re mine, my little birdie, and no one else’s.” She sat trembling, cradling her injured arm. The sting of the wound was nothing compared to the deep ache in her chest. Her tears fell silently as she dared not meet his gaze.

Raphael leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll understand one day,” he murmured, his tone almost tender. “This is love, y/n. You just need to learn it.” She sat frozen in the chair, her arm throbbing in pain as blood trickled from the fresh marks Raphael had carved into her skin. Her tears blurred her vision, but she refused to look at him as he returned with a bandage and a cloth soaked in warm water.

Raphael knelt beside her, his expression unnervingly soft now, a stark contrast to the cold brutality he’d just displayed. “Shh, my little birdie,” he cooed, gently taking her arm despite her flinch. “You’re shaking. Let me take care of you. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Sheturned her head away, biting her trembling lip to hold back a sob.

He dabbed at her wound with the warm cloth, cleaning the blood away with surprising tenderness. “Oh, you poor thing,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her wrist just below the fresh marks. “My birdie’s got a boo-boo. But don’t worry, I’ll make it all better.” His babyish tone only made her stomach churn. She wanted to pull her arm away, but the weight of his grip and the fear in her heart kept her still.

“There, there,” Raphael crooned as he wrapped the bandage carefully around her arm. His fingers were gentle, but she could feel the possessiveness in his every touch. “You’re so brave, y/n. See? All better now.”

He tied off the bandage and leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of the dressing with a lingering kiss. “See how much I care for you? I’d never let anyone hurt you, my little birdie.”

She finally found her voice, though it was weak and shaky. “You… you’re the one who hurt me,” she whispered, her tears spilling over again.

Raphael paused, tilting his head as if confused by her words. Then he cupped her cheek, brushing her tears away with his thumb. “Oh, don’t say it like that,” he said softly, his tone dripping with condescension. “Sometimes love hurts, y/n. But it’s only because I care so deeply for you. I just need you to understand.”

He pulled her into his arms, cradling her like she was fragile glass. She stiffened, but he ignored it, stroking her hair as if she hadn’t just been sobbing in pain moments before. “You’re mine, little birdie,” he murmured against her temple. “Forever. And I’ll take care of you, always.”

She stared blankly at the wall behind him, the weight of his words and the suffocating hold he had on her sinking deeper into her chest. All she could do was sit silently as he held her close, humming a soft, almost lullaby-like tune as if he hadn’t just marked her as his prisoner.

——

The crew finally docked on the shores of Skiaphos under the cover of night. The waves lapped softly against the hull as they carefully secured the ship. Telemachus motioned for everyone to keep quiet, his eyes scanning the darkened coastline for any signs of patrols. “Set up camp here for now,” Telemachus whispered, his voice low but commanding. “We can’t risk heading straight into the city without a plan.”

But Antinous, seething with impatience, was already pacing the sands. His fists clenched, and his jaw was tight with barely contained rage. “We don’t have time for plans!” he hissed. “Y/n is in that palace, suffering at the hands of that monster. Every second we wait—”

“Antinous,” Druses interrupted sharply, stepping in front of him. “Do you want to save your sister or get all of us killed before we even step foot inside the city?” Antinous glared at him, his breathing heavy, but before he could retort, the faint glimmer of the palace lights in the distance caught his eye. Without another word, he took off running toward them, his single minded determination blinding him to everything else.

“Antinous!” Telemachus hissed, his voice sharp but hushed. Pisistratus groaned in frustration and sprinted after him. Druses rolled his eyes, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he followed. By the time they caught up, Antinous was halfway up a rocky hill overlooking the palace, crouched low but clearly eyeing the structure like a predator sizing up its prey. Pisistratus grabbed his arm, yanking him back with more strength than Antinous anticipated.

“Are you insane?” Pisistratus hissed. “Do you want them to see us?”

“I’m not just going to sit around while she’s in there!” Antinous snarled, his voice barely a whisper but filled with venom.

Druses grabbed him by the other arm, his grip like iron. “We get it. You’re angry. You want blood. But if you storm in there now, you’ll only bring it on yourself, and on y/n.”

Antinous struggled against their hold, his chest heaving with frustration. “Let me go! I’ll take them all on myself if I have to!”

“Stop acting like a reckless fool!” Pisistratus snapped, dragging him back down the hill. “We need to set up camp, assess their defenses, and figure out a strategy. You charging in there now won’t save her, it’ll doom her.”

Antinous finally stopped struggling, though his body remained tense. His eyes burned with frustration and desperation as he allowed himself to be led back to the others. “You don’t understand,” he muttered under his breath. “She’s my sister. I should’ve protected her. I—”

“And you will,” Druses cut in, his voice surprisingly calm. “But not like this. We’ll get her back, Antinous. I swear it. But you need to trust us.” Antinous didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the palace lights in the distance. He knew they were right, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. He clenched his fists, silently vowing that when the time came, Raphael would regret ever laying a hand on y/n.

——

The distant murmur of voices stirred the night air, faint but urgent. A servant girl, carrying a tray of fresh linens, paused in the shadowed halls of the palace, her ears pricking at the unfamiliar sounds. The low growls of argument, the shuffling of hurried feet. Her pulse quickened. She knew the city well—knew the way its streets whispered in the dark, the way unrest often started as little more than a ripple. And she recognized desperation when she heard it. Without a moment’s hesitation, she turned on her heel and rushed toward the inner chambers of the palace.

Raphael traced the swollen skin of y/n’s wrist with a lazy smile, his fingers ghosting over the fresh brand he had etched into her flesh only hours before. The skin was red and inflamed, the raw wound forming the letters of his name, accompanied by a small heart as if this were some kind of lovers’ engraving rather than a cruel claim of ownership. “My little birdie,” he murmured, his tone dripping with saccharine adoration as he lifted her bound hands to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to the fresh wound. “Now everyone will know you belong to me.”

Pandora, silent and hollow eyed, only flinched slightly at the contact. She had learned not to resist, at least not outwardly. Not when Adonis was still in his grasp. He reveled in the moment, savoring his work. But then—

A knock. Sharp. Urgent.

Raphael’s expression darkened instantly. With an irritated sigh, he released her hands, letting them drop to her lap. “Wait here,” he ordered, though they both knew she had no choice. He strode to the door, throwing it open with impatience, and was immediately met with the sight of the wide eyed servant girl. She bowed hastily, her breath coming in short gasps from running.

“My lord,” she whispered, her voice barely containing the tremble of fear. “Strange men have been spotted near the palace. They were arguing… speaking in hushed tones about the queen.” Raphael’s expression darkened further, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Y/n

So they had finally come.

With a slow inhale, he steadied himself. He had known this day would come, Telemachus was stubborn, predictable, and utterly obsessed with getting y/n back. But this was too soon. He had expected more delays, more obstacles keeping them apart.

No matter.

He glanced back into the room, his gaze settling on y/n. She was looking down, her face unreadable, her fingers twitching slightly against the fabric of her gown. Had she heard? Of course, she had. “Stay,” he murmured, softer this time, though it was no less a command. He turned back to the servant. “Go. Inform the guards. I want eyes on the entire perimeter.”

The girl nodded and hurried off. Raphael exhaled slowly before making his way through the grand corridors of the palace, his mind already spinning through the possibilities of what was to come. If war was on the horizon, then he needed Skiaphos to be ready.

—

Raphael found Endymion in the eastern courtyard, sitting beneath the flickering light of the torches, a goblet of wine in hand. His older brother, ever the picture of effortless control, barely lifted his gaze as Raphael approached. “You’re out late,” Endymion murmured, swirling his wine before taking a slow sip. “Shouldn’t you be watching over your little queen?”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Raphael replied smoothly, though irritation laced his tone. “Not while I have her leashed.”

Endymion let out a quiet, unimpressed hum. “Charming.”

Raphael ignored the sarcasm and leaned against the stone railing, looking out over the quiet city. “We have uninvited guests,” he said at last.

That caught Endymion’s attention. He arched a brow. “Uninvited?”

Raphael smirked. “Telemachus and his men are here.”

Endymion set down his goblet. “And you’re sure?”

Raphael nodded. “A servant overheard them near the palace, whispering about y/n.” He tilted his head slightly, watching his brother’s reaction. “They’re here to take her back. Which means Ithaca is preparing for war.” Endymion was silent for a long moment, his sharp eyes calculating. Then he exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple.

“I told you this would happen,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I told you stealing another man’s wife would bring war to our doorstep.”

Raphael chuckled darkly. “And I told you—I don’t care.”

Endymion stood slowly, his gaze hard. “And yet, you come to me now. Why?”

Raphael’s smirk didn’t fade, but his eyes sharpened. “Because we need to be ready. If Telemachus is here, he didn’t come alone. He’s not a fool, he knows we outnumber him in his current state. That means he’ll be gathering forces, looking for weak points.”

Endymion exhaled, shaking his head. “You’ve doomed us all, little brother.”

“Oh, come now,” Raphael mused, stepping closer. “You love war as much as I do.”

Endymion scoffed. “War I can win. Not this mess.” He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. “I’ll have the men prepare. We need scouts watching the city, and if Telemachus and his men try anything, we end it before it starts.”

“Now that’s more like it.” Raphael smirked. “See? I knew you’d come around.”

Endymion shot him a sharp look. “This isn’t a game, Raphael. Ithaca won’t stop. They’re not just fighting for land or pride. They’re fighting for her. That makes them more dangerous than you think.”

Raphael’s smirk wavered, if only for a second. Then he straightened. “Let them try,” he said coolly. “Y/n is mine now. And they’ll learn that the hard way.” Endymion shook his head, but the conversation was over. He turned on his heel, already barking orders to the guards stationed nearby. Raphael, satisfied, took a slow breath before making his way back to his chambers.

Back to y/n.

Back to the only thing worth fighting for.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches

@sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk

@h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff

@yuvany

[xenteaart]

it's not about the roses

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but despite a brief mention of the studio it can fit any au, really) word count: 1,1k genre/warnings: er, fluff, a hint of angst if you squint but overall just tooth rotting sweetness. reader being kinda vulnerable author's note: inspired by my and @skzms 's channie brain worms, me crying over how boyfie he is in may's dms and her coming up with this little prompt. i'm manifesting a sweet healthy relationship for y'all, never settle for less <3

you were never the one for flowers, really.

it just didn’t seem anything meaningful or special, an occasional cute little bouquet on some first date you had ages ago, meeting someone completely new after mindlessly swiping them right on a dating app. plus, it’s always such a bother to take care for it. disassemble the thing, cut the stems, change the water, maybe cut off the leaves too.

at some point, you began to think of yourself as more of a practical person, taking gift giving to the point where it completely lost symbolism. always getting your friends and family either money or something they specifically asked for.

“at least, they’re actually gonna use it and get some utility out of it. ‘s good, right?” you thought to yourself, ticking a box on one of your friend’s wishlists for their birthday. it is good. no stress of choosing and endlessly pondering whether they’ll like it or not.

or is it avoiding the vulnerability of going down a more symbolic route if they don’t happen to respond to your gift the way you’d like them to after carefully planting hidden meanings and confessions all over a seemingly useless present? yeah, maybe, that’s the one, actually.

it was a regular saturday evening, no work, no plans, no big day or anything to celebrate. so, naturally, you were just spending the time at your place, resting after successfully having done all the house chores in one go.

purposelessly lying on the bed, you wondered what chris was up to. it wasn’t something out of the ordinary for you two to leave each other hanging during the day, keeping each other’s messages unread and waiting for some free time to give a thoughtful, proper reply.

but the little “1” next to your kakaotalk message was starting to feel unfriendly because... honestly? you just missed him. you wanted to know about his day, what he ate for lunch and whether work was okay today (knowing full well the man couldn’t care less about days of the week, coming over at the studio any time he needed or pleased).

distracting yourself with scrolling tiktok for a quick dopamine hit, you end up losing track of time a little. and the thing bringing you back to reality is chan’s short message, popping up on your notifications bar.

“can you come out for a sec? i’m at the door hehe~”

it takes you three times to read to finally understand what it actually means. he doesn’t have keys to your apartment yet, and you mostly hang out at his place anyways, so him coming all the way to the opposite side of the city makes your heart skip a beat.

you rush to the door and open it almost immediately, only to see channie, your channie, standing right in front of you with a nice bouquet of red roses wrapped up in kraft paper. the next thing you notice is chan’s wide smile, so sincere and endearing it makes you wanna cry on the spot.

you were never the one for flowers, really.

red roses always seemed like something either too vulgar or “easy”. something that becomes men’s first pick because they just never care enough to look for anything else and assume every girl loves it by default.

right now, however, it doesn’t feel like either of those.

the way chris is a bit nervous and really excited all at once; his hands gripping at the crunchy paper-wrapped base as he's waiting to give the flowers to you. the way his eyes sparkle and shine with warmth and genuine adoration for you. and you read past the roses, you learn so much more from it.

you learn how he’s been quiet because he was plotting a little surprise for you, trying not to be too obvious.

you see how he thought of you during the entire process, from an idea to carefully picking out the best flowers, making sure they’re fresh and pretty and will stay this way a while.

you can hear his timid little “thank you” to the florist as they exchange their bows and polite smiles.

you imagine the slightly awkward small talk with the taxi driver asking him about the occasion — the traffic and the parking area next to your building are awful, so you’re guessing he did take the taxi. and the drivers sure love to talk on the long drives, this one you had to learn the hard way.

gosh, chan looks so warm and… so soft, his lips making a familiar heartbreaking :] shape.

snapping out of your thoughts, you look into chris’s eyes and swallow down a salty lump in your throat.

“please don’t be alarmed, but i probably will cry a little,” you warn him before your voice gives out and take the roses, holding them close to your chest where the heart is bleeding.

“so pretty,” you stare down at the gentle velvety petals and sniff quietly.

chan looks worried for a moment but quickly pulls you into his embrace, stepping into the apartment and locking the door behind him.

“hey-y, i expected a smile, not your tears, baby. i didn’t upset you, did i?” to which you shake your head to reassure him.

“no, no, ‘course not! what do you mean? they’re so nice. i’m just… really happy? and i missed you. so much,” the last words come out like a weak mouse squeak as you close your eyes and let your emotions roll down your cheeks, staining your skin wet.

chan nods and takes your face into his palms, wiping away the tears and looking at you so lovingly you think you might actually break.

“i missed you too, baby. do you mind if i stay the night? i…- uh. i bought some face masks too, so we can just relax a little before bed and cuddle?”

you squeeze out a little “yeah” in response, headbutting his forehead and putting your arm around him, with another still holding the roses carefully.

“i love you,” you say slightly louder, making sure that he hears it.

maybe, gifts don’t have to be practical all the time. maybe, it’s okay to put sentimental value into simple, useless things sometimes. make them mean something.

“i love you too, baby,” chris hums still a little confused, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back and planting a chaste kiss on the bridge of your nose.

you reach for his plump soft lips and press yours against them. and even though your tastebuds can feel the salt, it’s the sweetest kiss you two have shared so far.

[bunnysnuff]

Bad idea, right?

Pairing: Elphaba Thropp x gn! reader.

Trigger warnings: miscommunication, emotional confusion, unintended hurt, emotional vulnerability.

Request.

The air in the Emerald City was heavy with tension as Elphaba paced back and forth in her room, trying not to think about the way your smile made her heart race. She had always been good at hiding her feelings, but there was something about you that made it impossible to keep her emotions locked away.

Her best friend, Glinda, had noticed it first. She’d been teasing Elphaba about it for weeks, insisting that the green-skinned witch was "absolutely smitten" with you. Elphaba had denied it at first, but after more and more moments of catching her breath when you were near, she couldn't pretend anymore. The feelings were real. And intense.

Glinda, ever the romantic, had offered some “helpful” advice, though Elphaba wasn’t sure whether to trust her or not.

“Listen, Elphie,” Glinda had said with a grin, “If you want to win someone’s heart, sometimes you have to make them jealous. It’s classic.”

Elphaba had raised an eyebrow. “Jealous? I don’t think that’s the best strategy.”

But Glinda had insisted, practically bubbling with excitement. “Trust me, Elphie! A little jealousy never hurt anyone. Just act like you're into someone else, maybe a little flirtation here and there, and they’ll come around. Works every time!”

Reluctantly, Elphaba had agreed to give it a try. After all, Glinda seemed so confident. And maybe, just maybe, it would work.

The next day, Elphaba found herself sitting across from you in the crowded dining hall. You were talking animatedly about something, completely unaware of the battle waging inside her. She had tried to prepare herself, tried to be casual and confident. But as soon as you looked at her with that warm, kind gaze, her heart skipped a beat.

To her horror, a figure walked in—the charming, flirtatious Fiyero. Elphaba had always known he had a certain charisma, but today… today was different. He walked up to the table, grinning as he leaned casually against it. “Well, well, if it isn’t the green goddess herself. Care to join me for a walk?”

Elphaba felt the words leave her mouth before she could stop them. “Sure, why not?”

Your eyes flickered between them, and Elphaba couldn’t help but notice the brief, almost imperceptible flash of disappointment in your gaze. It made her stomach churn.

“Great!” Fiyero said, not giving you much of a chance to respond. “Lead the way, Elphaba.”

And they left.

Elphaba had tried to enjoy the conversation with Fiyero, but it was no use. Her mind kept drifting back to you, to the way you’d looked when she’d walked away. Was this really the way to make you realize how she felt?

Later that evening, she was back in her room, feeling confused and restless. There was a knock at the door, and when she opened it, there you were, standing with a mix of concern and something else in your eyes.

“Can we talk?” you asked softly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

Elphaba swallowed hard. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, as though choosing your words carefully. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Fiyero, but… I guess I just didn’t expect you to be so… obvious about it.”

Elphaba’s chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to make me jealous, aren’t you?” Your voice wasn’t angry, just hurt, and Elphaba felt a pang of guilt she hadn’t expected. “You’re not the kind of person to play games, Elphaba. I thought we were past that.”

Elphaba felt her face flush, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet your eyes. “I… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought… I thought maybe it would help you see…”

“See what?” you interrupted gently. “That you have feelings for me?”

Elphaba nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes. But I didn’t know how else to show you.”

You smiled softly, stepping closer. “You don’t have to try and manipulate me, Elphaba. I already know how I feel. I just needed you to be honest with me.”

Relief flooded her, and she exhaled, finally meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaky. “I didn’t think it would backfire like that.”

You reached out, taking her hand in yours. “You don’t need anyone else’s advice to know how to make me see you. Just be yourself.”

From that moment on, Elphaba didn’t need to play games anymore. She learned that honesty was the best way to your heart—and that Glinda’s advice, while well-meaning, was a little too dramatic for her taste. But she also realized something important: no matter how complicated or difficult it seemed, she didn’t have to hide her feelings for you any longer.

And when you kissed her for the first time, with no tricks, no schemes, just the two of you, she knew that was the moment she’d been waiting for all along.

[wikiangela]

when I say I love your mind (I wanna steal your heart)

huge thank you to @evansboyfriend and @beefcakekinard for alllll the help, you're the best <3

prompt: Halloween - couples costumes rated: G tags: fluff, established relationship word count: 1.8k

[also on ao3]

“So maybe vampires? Classic.” Buck suggests, hoping they’ll finally settle on something. But one look at Tommy’s face tells him it’s another no. 

“I don’t know. It’s kinda basic.” His boyfriend says, and, okay, Buck can see that. 

“Yeah, okay.” Buck hums, taking a second to come up with something else, as he and Tommy walk through the park, taking the long way to Tommy’s car. It’s a late evening, the moon illuminating their path, Tommy’s hand warm in his. They’re just finishing up date night, and at the end of their dinner the subject of Halloween was brought up – which is what they’ve been on for the last fifteen minutes. “So I guess ghosts or zombies or, I don’t know, clowns or pirates are also a no?”

“Uh, they might be a maybe?” Tommy shrugs, but clearly he’s not very into it. 

“What about superheroes? Ooh, you could be Superman. You kinda look like him anyway.” He says, bringing their clasped hands to kiss Tommy’s knuckles. “My own personal hero.” He whispers, and Tommy laughs. Buck’s sure if it wasn’t dark, he’d see a faint blush in his cheeks.

“And what would that make you, Wonder Woman?” There’s a skeptical but amused tone in his voice. 

“Maybe.” He shrugs and Tommy doesn’t even need to say anything for Buck to know he’s not a fan. “Okay, so Batman and Robin.”

“Hm, that’s one to think about.” Tommy responds. Buck takes that as a win, but they could do something more fun.

“Luke and Leia.” He says just because maybe Star Wars will be something to agree on – though, on the other hand, that might just spiral into another disagreement they’ve had before about those movies in general, so maybe better to leave it alone. Buck loves Tommy so much, but his Star Wars opinions are… not good. He can look past that, though. No one can be perfect.

“They’re siblings. We’re not doing a sibling couples’ costume, Evan.” He says decisively, shaking his head. Bossy, for someone who can’t decide on a costume. Buck rolls his eyes, kinda fond but kinda annoyed.

“So Leia and Han Solo. Oh, or Han and Luke? To put a bit of a spin on it?”

“Uh-” Tommy makes a face – to his credit, he does try to hide it – and Buck sighs in frustration. He doesn’t even want to hear the reason for the no. He pauses, trying to think of something else, the silence always pleasant between them. Whether they talk for hours, or are silent together, in Tommy’s company every second is the most comfortable and enjoyable. Buck just feels like he can be fully himself, and lean into his silliest side. 

“We could be Venom and Eddie Brock.” He says, mostly joking, the image that popped into his head so ridiculous he laughs.

“Hm. And how would that work, exactly? One of us in regular clothes and the other in costume as Venom?”

“Yeah. You as Eddie, and I dressed in all black, on your back.” He gives Tommy a shit-eating grin when he glances at him disbelievingly. “You know, like when Venom pops out of Eddie’s back?”

“And, what, I’d carry you on my back the whole night?” He laughs, but Buck just nods. “Sweetheart, I’m strong, but I’m not that strong. Best I could do is a few minutes.” He sounds almost apologetic, and Buck needs to kiss him about it, so he presses a quick kiss to his lips, stopping them briefly.

“I know, I’m kidding.” He whispers, resuming walking. “Would be cool, though.”

“It would.” Tommy admits. Silence falls over them again, as the gears in Buck’s brain keep turning, going through every movie he can remember ever seeing, or any fun and cool couples they could realistically dress up as.

“Beauty and the Beast? I could do a yellow suit. And you can be my Beast.” Buck leans closer to Tommy, his chin brushing Tommy’s shoulder as they walk, almost at the car now. He whispers, “You already are.”

“That’s a leap from Venom.” A laugh escapes Tommy. “I don’t know. It’d be cute, but I thought you wanted scary.”

“True. We could make it scary.” He says, but then another idea pops into his head. “Oh, how about the Addams family? You know, to keep the spooky vibe.” Buck bumps his shoulder into Tommy’s.

“Well, I do love the Addams family.” Tommy nods. “Who exactly, though?”

“The best couple ever, of course. Morticia and Gomez.” He says, and watches Tommy’s face for his reaction. “And you hate it.” He sighs, and rolls his eyes, starting to get a tiny bit annoyed. It’s like the fiftieth costume he suggested, Tommy has to like something.

“No, I love it, really, but, you know, if we’re doing a couple, maybe it could be a gay couple instead?” Tommy suggests, pulling Buck a little closer to him. Well, that was the idea at first, before Buck spiraled where he is now, because someone kept shutting down his ideas. At least now he gets why some of those were a no from Tommy, because Buck thinks some were really fun.

“Yeah, sure. If we could agree on any.” He shoots Tommy a pointed look.

“Okay, any other ideas?” Tommy asks, a hint of fond amusement on his face. It’s not funny, though, they need to figure it out quickly, Halloween is right around the corner.

“Salt and pepper shakers.” He throws out. “Or ketchup and mustard.”

“Are you serious?” Tommy raises his eyebrow, giving him his signature ‘Evan’ look, version exasperated. Buck just shrugs, trying to hide a smile, the thought of his boyfriend having specific smiles and looks reserved for him making his heart swell.

“I’m running out of ideas, Tommy. Oh!” He exclaims, a new random idea popping into his head. “Tom and Jerry! Get it?” He grins, looks at his boyfriend expectantly, and sees a tired but very fond and amused smile. “Tom-my.” He drags out the first syllable, just to get his point across.

“Yeah, baby, I get it. You’re adorable, but no.” He says, and then chuckles when Buck pouts. 

“How about the emotions from Inside Out?” He grumbles, the movie popping into his head randomly – probably because he and Tommy watched it with Jee on their latest babysitting duty. They did a whole Pixar marathon. “You can be boredom.”

“Oh, really?” Tommy gives him one of his looks, and, damn, Buck almost melts under his gaze, even when he’s annoyed with him. He loves him so fucking much. “You calling me boring?” He tugs at Buck’s hand, stopping them and bringing him closer, so they’re face to face, his hands settling on Buck’s hips, Buck’s landing on his huge arms, now covered by a jacket. There’s an amused smirk on Tommy’s face. “I thought I was cool?”

“Nah, you’re not. You hide it well, but I know now that you’re just a huge dork. And very, very boring.” Buck teases, trying and failing to say it with a straight face, a smile breaking through. “And I love you anyway.”

“I love you, too, Evan.” Tommy says, his smile forming into that fond, loving ‘Evan’ smile that Buck can never resist kissing off. So he does. He kisses Tommy once, twice, the kisses soft and chaste, both smiling into each other’s lips. He’s about to go in for a third, intending on deepening it, but Tommy pulls away, face a bit more serious. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Buck frowns, not wanting or needing any apologies, genuinely wondering if he missed anything.

“For being such a pain about this whole costume thing.” Tommy explains, and Buck wants to laugh. Yeah, okay, he was a little annoyed, but it’s just a little teasing, bickering, about Halloween costumes of all things. He can take the most ridiculous things seriously, but this? Nothing to get overly upset about. He’s about to say all that, but then Tommy continues, “I don’t know, maybe Halloween is just not my thing. I’ve never really been too into it.” He shrugs, a flicker of something wistful crossing his face, but it’s gone too quickly to decipher. “But it matters to you, and I love you, and I want you to be happy. So, I’m done being a party pooper, let’s do a costume. Next idea, no complaints, I promise. Whatever you want.” He says so sincerely, but there’s a hint of a ‘I hope I’m not gonna regret this’ in his eyes. Buck grins, a random, brand new idea showing up.

“Woody and Buzz? From Toy Story.” he clarifies, as if that wasn’t obvious – and clearly it was, from the look he gets. “What? You said gay couple.”

“I don’t think they were. And I thought you wanted scary- but fine, okay.” Tommy sighs, that fond look back on his face. “I said whatever you want. You wanna be the cowboy or the astronaut?”

“Hm.” Buck takes a second to think – and realizes that, actually, there’s an even better, easier idea. “Or we could just be cowboys.” He shrugs, and then he can feel his eyes go wide as the full picture pops into place. 

“Zombie cowboys.” He says, at the same time as Tommy, though Tommy’s sounds more like a question.

“You know me so well.” Buck beams, leaning in for another kiss. “Let’s be scary cowboy zombies. See, was that so hard?”

“You’re the one with a thousand ideas for a second. I didn’t even say no to everything at first, you just went through so many it was hard to keep up. I’m pretty sure you said cowboy back at the restaurant, too, and I didn’t even get a chance to say anything.” Tommy points out, pulling away from Buck, grabbing his hand again and starting to walk, his truck already visible in the distance.

“Not my fault my brain works like that.” Buck says mock-defensively. 

“I know, honey, I love your wonderful brain.” Tommy smiles, lets go of Buck’s hand to wrap his arm around his waist, presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “And I love you, my silly zombie cowboy.”

“Halloween is gonna be so much fun.” Buck is smiling widely, excited like a kid for his first Christmas – or, his first Halloween, more like. It’s seemingly no big deal, but also it’s his first Halloween with Tommy, and he’s excited – he’s excited for all the firsts with Tommy. He can’t wait to do everything and anything with him. “Are you gonna come by the station?”

“Of course, if I can. Gotta see how scary you’re gonna make it.”

“Wanna bet I can scare you?” He asks, just as they near the car.

“In the haunted house for children?” Tommy raises his eyebrows. “Sure, you can try. What are we betting on?”

“I have a few ideas.” Buck grins wickedly, crowding Tommy against the car.

“Oh, really? Well, I’m all ears.” Tommy grins, his arms wrapping around Buck’s neck, pulling him closer. Buck smiles into Tommy’s lips, kissing him, quick but lingering.

“Well, why don’t we go home and I can show you what I have in mind?”

[read on ao3]

[soukokuforthesoul]

days when dazai was lost. not in a literal sense—but it sort of feels like it because he doesn’t know where to go, and he thinks he should find someone from the agency, but it feels wrong to go to them because they wouldn’t understand, and he doesn’t want to explain, and he knows they’ll worry too much. he doesn’t feel like pity would help at all, so he’s stumbling aimlessly. he thinks he might be drunk, because his mind is muddled and he doesn’t feel like he has much control over himself at the moment. a minute later (or maybe not, because it’s considerably darker than two minutes ago), he’s knocking at a door. then he slumps against it, yelping when it opens and he’s failing and falling. but someone catches him, and he looks up, expecting to see atsushi or even kunikida, but he finds himself slumped in the arms of someone smaller, someone more familiar. and the apartment is a lot bigger and more expensive than one the agency could afford—which he wonders how he didn’t notice when he’d knocked.

“are you… drunk?” chuuya asks, and he’s scowling. despite how much shorter he is, he doesn’t struggle in the slightest on holding dazai up, and it takes a moment to respond because dazai finds that amazing.

“dunno,” dazai manages, after a while. his voice feels raw, like he was screaming. maybe crying. he can’t quite recall anymore. “can i come in?”

chuuya’s nose scrunches up, and he’s clearly against the idea. “why the fuck are you even here?” he demands instead. he doesn’t have his hat on now, so he likely was getting ready to settle down. oh, but he still has his choker. “you smell and look like shit.”

“thanks.” dazai tries standing back up. chuuya helps him prop himself on the wall, and he wobbles there for a while until he can form any words on his lips. “i didn’t know where else to go.”

that wasn’t true, dazai thinks. he doesn’t know why he’s here anyway. oh, then maybe it was true. suppose his first instinct was to find chuuya. wait, that didn’t make sense either. why chuuya? why not… why not who? oh, right. he had his own apartment, why hadn’t he gone there? maybe he forgot his key at the agency. probably that.

chuuya interrupts his internal confusion with a loud sigh. “you’re not in the mafia anymore, shitty dazai. you can’t just waltz up to my door and expect me to let you in.”

with a frown, dazai almost topples over again in his haste to convince chuuya. his head feels heavy.

“shit—“ chuuya curses, and scoops dazai up before he head dives into the porch. “god, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“let me in!!” dazai whines, but it feels halfhearted. he’s tired, now. his eyes droop shut. “i’ll… i won’t bother you for two days if you do.”

“hm.” chuuya pretends to consider it, but he’s already prying dazai’s shoes off. “make that two months.”

“meanie.” dazai opens his eyes again and finds himself on a couch. he wonders where the couch came from—then realizes he’s inside. he didn’t know chuuya could speed up time.

chuuya’s not there, though. dazai looks around.

“chuuya?” he frowns. “chuuya, where are you?”

when he gets no response, he panics. was he dreaming, then? fuck, hallucinating was definitely not a good sign. so he swings his legs over the couch and stands. then he trips and falls.

“jesus fucking christ, what kind of idiot are you?” chuuya’s voice growls, and there’s the hurried clinking of glass and then an arm is holding dazai up. “where has your equilibrium gone—how much did you fucking drink?”

“oh. chuuya, hi,” dazai chokes out. blood is rushing to his head in this position, and it’s a relief when he’s laid back onto the couch. he tries for a smile. “i thought you were a dream.”

“please don’t dream about me,” chuuya deadpans, then hands him some water. “but, no, i went to get you a glass. clearly, you need it.”

“i don’t need glasses.” dazai sips at the cup. it’s cold on his tongue, but it makes his head less dizzy. he closes his eyes, pushing the cup away and laying limp on the couch. “chuuya, you’re not leaving, right?”

“eh? this is my house, don’t be stupid,” chuuya sighs. he flicks dazai’s forehead. fabric rustles, and dazai peeks an eye open to see him standing.

“wait— wait, don’t go,” dazai hurries to say, fumbling as he reaches for chuuya’s arm. “i’m—“

“you’re what?” chuuya asks, when dazai falters.

something of clarity shakes dazai more awake. “i’ll puke on your couch if you leave.”

“i hate you.”

chuuya sits back down. he snatches one of the pillows from the couch.

dazai smiles. he closes his eyes again and listens to chuuya settle on the floor (he’s sitting, dazai assumes). he’ll likely be gone when dazai wakes up, but there’s a sense of comfort that he at least agreed to stay for now.

as he drifts too sleep, exhausted, dazai wonders again why he decided to go to chuuya. ‘i didn’t know where else to go,’ he’d said. where had that come from?

when he wakes up, chuuya’s still there, curled up on the floor with the pillow clutched in his arms.

[soursturniolo]

Hurtful Words • Nick Sturniolo

Synopsis: Nick and his boyfriend get into a fight the night before leaving for Boston. After some of the harsh words from Nick, his boyfriend is left hurt and uncertain of his place in his boyfriends life.

Pairing: Nick x male reader/character (no y/n but also no other name used, he/him pronouns)

Tags: angst, hurt, a bit of sunshine!reader x grumpy!nick, nick has a panic attack, comfort (happy ending because I guess I'm not 100% evil yet)

Nick had been extremely stressed all day. Nothing was going right, first he woke up late and missed his meeting. Then, he went to edit a video they had prefilmed to post while him, his brothers, and his boyfriend would be in Boston, just to discover the SD card was corrupted and nothing could be salvaged from it. Next, he developed a horrible headache as he was rushing to finish up packing for the flight tomorrow morning. Now, he was getting ready to film a replacement video with his brothers right as his cheerful boyfriend strode into his bedroom. Fuck , Nick thought to himself. He had forgotten his boyfriend was coming this early.

“Hey!” his boyfriend smiled as he made his way over to him, arms open for the usual hug they’d share. Most always, his boyfriends sunny disposition made him smile, but today it just made him irrationally angry.

“Hi,” Nick responds flatly, not meeting his partners eyes as he dodged the hug and affection being offered. If Nick had been looking up he would have seen the look of confusion and concern flash across the other man’s face as his arms lowered to the side upon seeing that Nick clearly didn’t want a hug.

The other man frowns as he takes in Nick’s disheveled appearance, hair sticking up from most likely stressful tugging, a clenched jaw and tense shoulders. Knowing Nick for almost a year now, he knows his boyfriend isn’t one to immediately talk out his feelings, so he doesn’t ask but quickly concludes it must have been quite a rough day for the brunette. Usually in these situations, they’ll cuddle and relax and watch some stupid TV show, so that’s what the man suggests. To which, Nick scoffs.

“I don’t have time to just lay around with you, I need to go do my job, I have so much shit I need to do before tomorrow,” Nick gripes, moving around to grab the camera and SD cards off his desk, stuffing them into a bag to take to the car where he’s sure his brothers are already waiting for him. In packing he’d lost track of time, looking at his phone to see its already 17 minutes past the time they said they’d meet in the garage.

His boyfriend nods in understanding, seeing the obvious stress practically pouring out of every pore of his boyfriend. He reaches out a hand, gently touching Nick’s arm, trying his best to sooth him.

“is there anything I can do to help?” he asks softly.

“Jesus Christ!” Nick exclaims, feeling overwhelmed by everything all at once, like his skin is on fire and every little thing makes his head pound even harder, yaking his arm away from the other man’s touch “yknow what actually, there is. Just leave me the fuck alone for two seconds!”

The man frowns slightly, taking a step back at Nick’s sudden outburst, wrapping his own arms around him, head cooking to the side minutely.

“we’ve been apart all day? I’m just trying to help, I’m sorry sweetheart,” he says softly, trying to give him a soft smile, which just makes Nick scoff and roll his eyes again. A deep frown paints his boyfriends face at the reaction, the man tightening his arms around himself, shoulders hunching in slightly.

“And you come in here all fucking smiles and hugs. you’re just happy all the fucking time. Just this fucking ray of sunshine. Some of us fucking aren’t. Maybe this just wasn’t a good idea.” Nick spits out, his words venom. Part of his brain is yelling at him to shut up seeing the hurt look spreading over his boyfriends face, but the angry voice overshadows that one, just wanting everyone to feel has horrible as he feels.

“What? What isn’t a good idea?” the man asks him, voice small, fearing the answer. Did Nick mean him coming to Boston along with his brothers to finally meet his parents? While he had been nervous about meeting his boyfriends parents at first, in the past few days he had become quite excited. Thinking of meeting his family, his family dog too. He had bought gifts for them all, even a chew toy for Trevor. Even today, the young man had found himself daydreaming at work, thinking of how well it all might go, imagining them all sitting around a table looking at photo albums and smiling as he learns more about the past of the man he so desperately wants a future with.

Nicks quick response has those hopes shattering, along with his heart.

“This. Us. I don’t know. I just need to fucking breathe. I’m leaving to film with Chris and Matt. Bye.” Nick half yells, voice strained as he stalks his way to the door, yanking it open and slamming it shut as he leaves, leaving a tearful man standing in the middle of the room wondering where it all went so wrong.

Nick was distracted the whole entire time they were filming, overcome with guilt and regret. He had been so harsh to his boyfriend, his number one supporter, next to his family of course. Flashes of the other man’s hurt face flicker in his mind, the timid and soft nature he had taken on as Nick raged at him, a shadow of the mans usually bright and bubbly demeanor. Even when he was short with him at first, instead of just leaving, his sweet boyfriend had still apologized and compassionately offered help. And what did Nick do to show his appreciation? Told him callously that maybe them dating had been a bad idea.

That wasn’t true in the slightest. They’d been together 7 months at this point, and it had been some of the happiest months of Nick’s life. He’d experienced a happiness that he never thought he’d get even remotely close to again, and this was how he repaid the man? Throwing his cheerful and sweet nature in his face as if it was something to be ashamed of? It made him sick to his stomach to recall how he’d behaved.

Noticing their brothers distraction, Matt and Chris suggested cutting the video short, under the guise of wanting to get on good nights sleep before their early flight home. The drive home was quick and quiet as Nick thought of all the ways he’d apologize to his sweet boyfriend who had a heart almost too good to be true.

The brothers quickly said goodnight and parted ways, Nick taking the stairs two at a time to get to his room so he could ask for the man’s forgiveness. Upon opening the door, he’s met with disappointment. He had left. Nick knew he shouldn’t be surprised though. As he pulls out his phone to call the man he knew he had hurt, a bag on his bed catches his eye, along with a note. He peaks in the bag, confused upon seeing four boxes wrapped in a plain purple wrapping paper, as he picks up the letter, recognizing the handwriting and feeling his heart clench painfully in his chest as he begins to read.

Nick,

I’m sorry, I never meant to upset you. I know I can be a lot, and I understand if it’s gotten too much to deal with. I was really looking forward to seeing Boston and meeting your family. But it’d be silly for me to tag along now, at this point. I had gotten some things for your parents, Justin, and Trevor. I was hoping you’d maybe give them to them for me?

Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back for my plane ticket if it’s too late to cancel it.

Thank you for the last 7 months, they meant the world to me. You did, too.

Nick feels tears gather in his eyes, beginning to stream down his face as he sits the letter down and quickly scrolls to his contact on his phone.

"please, pick up, pick up, pick up" he mutters, sniffling as he waits and hopes he'll answer. A shred of hope blooms upon hearing his call answered answer, the soft noise of a car engine in the back. Good, maybe his boyfriend hadn't made it home yet.

"baby?" Nick sniffles slightly, voice cracking. He hears the man on the other end of the line sniffle too, and he feels his heart crack a little more. he'd made his sweetheart cry.

"what do you need, nick?" the other man asks softly and tearfully.

"I need you. please turn around, I know you’re still in the car. I'm so sorry," Nick pleads.

"it's okay Nick," he sniffles, "just give those gifts to them, please?" he asks.

"no, I'm not," Nick cries, tears streaming down his face, one hand clutching his hair as the other clutches his phone against his ear, sagging against the wall and sliding down it into a heap on the floor, his chest feeling tighter and tighter.

"okay, I'll get them back from you when you guys get back home," he offers, which just makes Nick cry harder. He really fucked up this time.

"no, no you're supposed to give them to them, I want you to, I want you to turn around and come back here so I can tell you how fucking sorry I am and kiss you and watch a stupid movie with you and then we get up and we go to Boston tomorrow morning and you get to meet my family and see where I'm from and everything and they'll love you and your little gifts and your smile that can light up a room and they'll love you because I love you," he pleads over the phone, desolving into sobs on the phone.

the other man on the line tears up again at the sweet words and obvious remorse, and he wants to respond to them but Nick is spiraling in regret and sadness and he can hear that it's getting harder for him to breathe through his cries.

he turns the car around, beginning to take a shortcut back to the triplets house.

"Nick, I need you to breathe," the man says softly, hearing the loud cries through the speakers of his car.

"No, I'm not Nick, you never call me nick when we're alone, its always Nicky or sweetheart or babe," the brunette sobs, still feeling like his relationship is slipping through his fingers, and it's his own fault.

The man grips his steering wheel a little tighter, driving a little faster.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I just need you to breathe for me, in your nose and out your mouth real slow for me okay? you know that box breathing technique I showed matt a few months ago?" he softly asks Nick.

"Yeah," Nick sniffles, breathing still shaking and disordered.

"Good baby, I'm going to count and I want you to breathe with me okay? I'm almost there but I need you to breathe for me until I get there, okay?" He asks softly.

As he continues to drive, he counts off and listens as Nick breathes with him, slight sniffles still present as he tries to focus on getting his breathing regulated with the knowledge that his boyfriend is coming back.

Nick doesn't even register the sound of his boyfriends car turning off or the sound of him using his house key to get in. his head jerks up to look up from his spot on the floor to see his boyfriend standing in his doorway. He quickly moves from his position on the floor, getting up and launching himself into his boyfriends arms.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean a fucking word I said," he sobs, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend tightly and burrowing his head into his neck, his tears wetting the skin. His boyfriend holds him just as snuggly in his arms, rubbing a soothing hand over his back as the other hand cups the back of his head softly.

"I know, its alright," the man sooths, but the words have an opposite affect on Nick, as the brunette pulls back quickly as he shakes his head.

"It's not alright! I was mean because I had a bad day and my head fucking hurts, and I hurt you. You didn't deserve that. I love you, and I love your personality and how loving and happy you are. It isnt something I or anyone should throw in your face. I should have talked to you, I should have thanked you for wanting to help me. I'm so sorry, ill be better, I'll get better at talking to you and communicating and not just blowing up at you for no reason," Nick sniffles, roughly wiping away his own tears.

"Okay, I forgive you," the other man offers softly, as he gently pulls Nick's hands away from the rough rubbing of his face.

"No! You shouldn't just forgive me, why are you being so nice right now?" Nick objects, confused by his boyfriends behavior as more tears make their way down his face.

The other man smiles softly and sadly, guiding his boyfriend over to the bed and sitting, pulling Nick down to sit right next to him. He gently guides Nicks head to rest on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around the man in a comforting embrace that Nick easily allows himself to be pulled into, the closeness easing the pain and regret in his heart.

"Let me ask you a couple things, okay? Maybe that'll help you understand why I'm forgiving you?" he offers, carding his fingers though Nick's hair softly, as he feels Nick nod and whisper is consent into his shoulder.

"Do you genuinely regret how you treated me?" A quick and firm nod from Nick.

"Do you see how hurtful your misplaced irritation can be?" Another firm nod and squeeze from Nick's arms around him is felt.

"Do you genuinely plan on working on communicating with me and being better in the future so this doesn't happen again?" Another nod and squeeze.

"Do you still love me and want to be with me, and want me to come to Boston with you?" This receives the fastest nod and squeeze of all the questions, making the man smile and turn to press a soft kiss to Nick's head.

"See. You acknowledged and took ownership of what you did wrong, you plan to work on being better, and I know you're genuinely sorry and regret hurting me the way you did. I trust you, so I trust what you say and the fact that this will not happen again. We will deal better the next time," he explains softly to the man in his arms.

"Okay. I promise I'll do better, I love you," Nick hoarsely whispers against his shoulder, cuddling more into the other man's side.

"I know, I love you too," Nick smiles wobbly as he hears those words and feels another kiss pressed against his head. He leans up, softly pressing his lips against the man's jaw, then his cheek, then thr corner of his mouth, smiling when we feels the skin move under his lips into a matching smile. Then, Nick presses their lips together in a soft and gentle kiss, trying to convey all the love and warmth he feels for the man in his embrace. His own ray of sunshine.

author's note: hey! i hope yall enjoyed! if you have any nick requests feel free to send em my way! im slowly but surely getting back into writing and i really want to write more for nick :)

no tag list on this post because I'm getting ready to redo my old tag list since most either aren't active anymore or have new usernames

[taegimood]

hi mj!!

okay hear me out soobin and kai.. tag team.

like i know they would most likely never share anything like this but maybe the reader is the only exception in this case. ofc they share they’re favorite games and dramas but sharing kais gf is there new favorite activity?

hope you are doing well :))

-🖇️

nonnie this has me VIBRATING rn you have no idea i’m 👁️👄👁️ ughhhh sookai sandwich EFFF

edit: sorry for the accidental soob focus in the beginning, i got carried away i’m too mf obsessed w him 🤧

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soobin really didn’t mean to walk into kai’s bedroom without knocking, he just didn’t know that you were over… didn’t know that he’d find you getting split in half on his best friend’s cock, your body full nude and beautiful and all on display as he stands clenching the doorknob until his knuckles are white, frozen, eyes so wide that it’s comical. as if his cock wasn’t already getting hard enough in his sweatpants, the fact that the fucked out look on your face doesn’t change when you see him standing there — pools of need filling your gaze, in fact — well, hell; he sure as fuck is hard now.

soobin.exe has stopped working COMPLETELY, however, when he hears his own name fall from your lips in a soft whimper, and his eyes finally shoot to kai’s when the younger pants out, “hyung.. it’s okay, you can come in.” soobin doesn’t even process himself closing the door as he steps forward, doesn’t process how he approaches the bed, doesn’t process how he’s already gripping the hem of his shirt — “a-are you sure?” he whispers to kai, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as he watches his friend drill into it. he even has to stop the drool from trickling past his lips.

“please,” you moan out lewdly, breaking soobin’s momentary trance as his eyes flash back up to your face, your head thrown back as you watch him through pleading, lidded eyes. kai only chuckles and responds, “i’m sure. she’s been wanting this. you should see the way she looks at you, hyung.. isn’t that right, baby? want us both to share your pretty little pussy? hmm?”

soobin’s mouth hangs open at kai’s filthy words; what the fuck happened to his sweet innocent maknae???? but the guttural moan that erupts from your lips in response travels straight down to his twitching cock, and that’s all the confirmation that he needs as his clothes quickly find a home on the floor of his best friend’s bedroom and, in a daze, he’s quickly knelt on the bed beside you.

so thus starts the arrangement; kai kept true to his words, and now here you are being regularly shared between both men.

and you fucking love it.

soobin and kai aren’t new to the concept of sharing; they share video games, snacks, their passwords to anime sites, even some secret hentai links, all their usual favorite things; and now, their newest favorite thing to share is you, apparently.

it’s not uncommon anymore to be spending a night in with your boyfriend and have soobin come join; leaning back against kai’s chest while he tweaks your nipples as soobin languidly eats your pussy. or to be sandwiched between them in the shower, kai’s cock thrusting into you from behind as you hold onto soobin’s shoulder for support with one hand, the other jerking him off as your tongues tangle together. or when they’re busy playing video games and have you take turns cockwarming them — warm mouth wrapped around whoever isn’t buried inside you. later they reward you for being such a good girl when they’ve got you spitroasted on their cocks, your big strong men giving it to you so good, filling both your pretty holes on each end until your eyes are rolling back and your body is shaking. and who knows….

maybe they’ll reward you even better next time by filling all three.

[cloudcountry]

I need Jamil with a male crush who is kinda impossible to embarrass with teasing.

Like if Jamil teases him, he'll respond by:

A. Bluntly responding in a literal manner (ex: "Aw, it's almost as if you love me" "of course, to me you're the most sublime creature in Twisted Wonderland")

B. A witty/teasing reply

C. He'll go very pink but he won't hide it and has the biggest smile on his face

Basically, the reader makes no effort to hide how much he absolutely adores Jamil. How does Jamil go about flirting and asking him out properly?

SUMMARY: male!reader takes great pleasure in watching jamil squirm (lovingly <3)

COMMENTS: so many jamil requests woooow hes so popular!! isnt his birthday coming up. am i crazy.

Jamil doesn’t understand how one boy can send him into hysterics. Well, not exactly hysterics, as he seems put together to everyone else. Rest assured, on the inside, you have him confused and calculating his next move.

He doesn’t know what your next course of action will be or if you have an ulterior motive or not. You’re clearly not trying to reach Kalim, he notices how quickly you ditch Kalim for him every time you see him around.

He ignores how satisfied that makes him. He is not reveling in your attention even a little bit. Maybe it would be reassuring if you had some angle that you were working, but he’s sure you don’t because you’re just not that kind of guy. He’d be able to tell if you were someone like him.

He still remembers the first time you pulled something on him, smiling so kindly and giving him praise after he’d made a meal for Scarabia. You’d offered to help too, but he’d shut you down immediately out of instinct.

Throughout the night you kept finding ways to talk to him, playing various board games with him and cracking jokes to make him laugh. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, not for you, but then you said he looked so nice when he smiled.

It was unexpected. Such a simple compliment and such a lovestruck gaze were all it took to have him freezing in place, unsure of how to proceed. He finally manages to get out that your smile is lovely too (a compliment for a compliment.)

You don’t take the compliment and leave it alone, no. You start raving about how pretty his hair is, and how his eyes are the most gorgeous color, and how it’s lovely how he’s so competent and wow he’s so smart...

“Careful,” Jamil warns, “If you keep flattering people like that they’ll start to think you’re after something.”

“I’m only after one thing.” you lean closer, a stupid grin on your face and for a second Jamil takes you seriously, “Your heart.”

Ever since that day, it’s been like a competition between the two of you. Jamil makes a smug remark and you hit back twice as hard. Sometimes you’ll laugh to yourself and he can tell you’re flustered from your body language alone.

His flirting can come off as a bit awkward or even frustrated if you can read him well enough, but that’s only because he’s trying to get a leg up on you and you’re not giving him anything to stand on.

Like, come on. Do you have to be such a genuine, good-hearted guy that you just say what you mean? There’s no game for Jamil to even play?

Eventually it all comes to a head one day when Jamil pulls you aside, more exasperated than he’s ever been. He isn’t aiming to confess, but the way he talks about all of your interactions and how frustrated he is about not being able to pin down your character makes it obvious.

So obvious, of course, that you start smiling and giving him that lovestruck look again! He’ll get even more agitated, demanding that you spit out whatever you’re trying to do and just get this over with because he is at his wit’s end—

“I just love you.” you say. And that’s all you say.

Ultimately, I don’t think Jamil would confess first. I think he’d be way too far into his own head because of your way of approaching him to even think of it. Jamil is playing mind games and you’re just openly adoring him!

TAGLIST -> jamil's jewels . . . @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb