#scout x everyone i suppose

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts!reader

Summary: When a tipsy Y/N stumbles into his arms, full of affection and slurred confessions, Bob steps in to take care of her. What she doesn’t realize is that he’s been falling for her all along and her sudden mission assignment has just about crushed bob

WC: 2.8K

⸻

It was supposed to be a classy rooftop event promotion party, influencers, signature cocktails, a string quartet playing edgy remixes of classic rock.

Everyone was in sleek suits or silky dresses, posing for the press with polite smiles and champagne in hand. The interviews had gone well. Nobody spilled secrets, nobody swore on live TV (Alexei came very close), and no one walked out.

But five cocktails in, “classy” had been abandoned.

The entire Thunderbolts team was gathered around a long marble bar near the rooftop edge, city lights flickering like a galaxy below. But no one, no one, was as drunk as you and Alexei.

“Listen- listen to me,” you slurred, gripping John’s forearm like it anchored you to Earth. “We’re the heart of the team. Me, you, and Alexei. The heart and the- uh- liver.”

“I was Captain America” John reminded you, sipping his beer. “I am the liver. I filter the bullshit.”

You draped your arm back dramatically across a velvet stool grabbing another champagne flute in hand, head thrown back in laughter now while John refocused his attention to Alexei who drunkenly suggested arm wrestling.

Yelena was tipsy, sipping some martini concoction and live commentating everyone’s every play.

Bucky watched the chaos unfold with the patience of a babysitter, nursing his drink with a small smirk, leaning close to Ava, who was only pretending not to be amused by the disaster unfolding.

And Bob?

Bob was sober.

Completely, annoyingly sober in the corner, curls neatly combed and a soda water in hand.

He stood just behind the group, quiet in a button down and sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair glinted under the string lights. His eyes? Fixed on you.

You didn’t notice at first. Too busy rolling your eyes at John while he flexed his arm. “You know,” you muttered, “I’d say your ego’s almost as big as your biceps Walker, but they aren’t big at all”

“Almost?” he scoffed, tossing back a tequila shot, only hearing the first part.

Back to Alexei, slipping off his barstool and knocked into a waiter. Three glasses of prosecco went flying.

You howled with laughter.

Bob sighed.

He’d been watching your steady slide into drunk mischief all night, fighting the urge to step in. But when you finally tripped slightly on your heel and clung to the bar to steady yourself. laughing the whole time before finally getting up, he took initiative to wander towards you.

“Okay,” he said gently, appearing at your side like a guardian angel. “I think that’s enough champagne for you.”

You blinked up at him slowly, pupils wide, cheeks flushed.

“Oh no,” you said, smiling coyly. “It’s the Boy Scout.”

Bob raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you call me when you think I’m not listening?”

“I call you worse when I know you’re listening.”

That made him chuckle. A warm sound. And something in your chest fluttered.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get you some water.”

He helped you walk straight but you managed to stumbled into him still. Your arms wrapped around his torso as you giggled into his shirt. Bob didn’t move at first. He just looked down at you, stunned, his hands hovering like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“You smell really good,” you mumbled against his chest. “Like sunshine. Or… woodsy soap. And something expensive.”

“That’s very specific,” he said carefully, trying not to melt as your fingers clutched his shirtfront.

“Mmm. Your arms are so big, Bob.” Your palms smoothed down over the muscles of his biceps, then circled his waist. “How do you hide these under those sweaters?”

Bob’s face was turning the same shade as the pink lighting overhead. You leaned your head against his chest with a soft hum, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his jacket.

“Y/N.” His voice was strangled. “Maybe we should sit down.”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy but bright. “You’re so nice to me. You always open the door and hold my chair and tell me to drink water and you always remember if I’m cold or tired and—”

He was smiling now, soft and a little exasperated. “I just care about you.”

Your heart thumped.

You hiccupped. “I like when you care about me. I like you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, your face suddenly serious. “You have perfect hair. And perfect hands. And your eyes do that glowy thing sometimes when you get mad but I think it’s hot- I think you’re secretly in love with me.” you whispered against his collar.

Bob stilled.

You looked up again with drunken sincerity. “It’s okay. I’m in love with you too. Don’t worry- I won’t tell the team. It can be our little secret.”

Bob let out a slow, stunned breath, brushing your hair back with more care than you could process in your current state. “You’re gonna hate me for this in the morning.”

You grinned sleepily. “Not possible. You’re my favorite.”

“I thought Alexei was your favorite,” Bob teased softly, trying to keep your balance as you leaned more into him.

You glanced over at the Russian man in question now sprawled on a velvet chaise lounge, snoring softly with one boot in a flower arrangement.

“Alexei’s funny.” you said with the grave tone of someone making a very serious declaration. “But he doesn’t make me feel the way you do.”

Before you could say more that Bob thinks you’ll regret in the morning he was steering you gently to another nearby lounge.

You practically flopped into it, arms still tangled around his neck, and he followed with a quiet laugh, kneeling in front of you.

“Water,” he said, grabbing a glass from a passing waiter. “Sip it. Slowly.”

“Will you kiss me if I do?”

Bob turned red to the roots of his hair.

“I think you’re too drunk for that right now.”

“Ugh,” you groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the cushions. “Why are you so honorable?”

“Because someone in this group has to be.”

You tugged Bob’s sleeve, pulling him closer again. “Hey. You wanna know a secret?”

“Sure,” he said, voice hushed like he was indulging a child. But his smile was aching.

“I’m not that drunk.” you whispered… A complete lie. “I just wanted an excuse to put my hands on you.” Not a lie…

He stared at you, jaw slack. Drunk words, sober thoughts or something.

Then you pressed your palm to his chest, right over his heart.

“I think I like you more than I should,” you admitted softly again already forgetting your prior confession.

His hand found yours, warm and steady.

“And I think I’ve been waiting for you to feel that way for a long time.”

You blinked, actually sobering just a little as his words sunk in. A blush crept up your neck.

Then Alexei who’s now wide awake on round 7, shouted something unintelligible about vodka and fell into a hedge.

Bob sighed again, this time fondly.

“Come on, handsy,” he whispered, helping you up. “Let’s get you out of here before Alexei find you.”

You leaned into him as the lights of the city glittered below, your heels clicking softly on the marble. And as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you gently into his side, you let your hand slide across his chest again.

Bob helped you into a waiting car a little later, after you’d danced with his tie around your head and tried to convince Bucky and Ava who had caught a ride with you guys, that you could beat both of them in arm wrestling. Bob sat beside you the whole ride back, one hand gently holding yours as you leaned on his shoulder, humming off-key.

By the time he walked you to your room, you were barely awake.

He helped you sit, brought you more water, wiped the glitter from your cheeks with a warm towel. You watched him through bleary eyes, heart thudding too fast for how exhausted you were.

“Don’t go,” you mumbled, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away.

His brow furrowed. “I should. You need to sleep.”

“I sleep better when I know you’re close.”

Bob hesitated. Then sat on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed, hands neatly folded.

You scooted toward him clumsily, curling into his side.

“You’re a good man,” you murmured. “Even if you don’t believe it.”

Bob swallowed hard. “You’re drunk.”

He looked down at you lashes low, curls golden in the dim light and for a second, it felt like the world was still.

“I’m gonna tell you all this again,” you whispered,. “When I’m sober. So you believe me.”

Bob smiled softly, brushing a hand through your hair.

⸻

One week later.

Valentina didn’t waste time not when she had agents to deploy and secrets to keep. She stood at the head of the briefing room with her arms crossed, voice clipped and commanding.

“You’ll be embedded deep. Minimal communications. Four weeks, maybe five. You know the drill.”

No explanation. No context. Just coordinates, code words, and a vague nod toward danger.

You nodded once, steady and composed. “When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

That was it. No sugar coating. No safety nets. No goodbyes.

Just logistics… and the dull ache in Bob’s chest as he stood by the door, silent and still, watching you take the news like a soldier.

It wasn’t your first mission. Wouldn’t be your last. You were good at this hell, you were better than good. But that didn’t make it easier to watch you go.

Especially now.

Not after last week.

⸻

That night, Yelena hosted.

It was her version of a send off. The living room of the Thunderbolts’ tower had been transformed into a mess of mismatched blankets, greasy pizza boxes, and horror movies from the ’80s that were more comedic than scary.

Ava was curled up in an armchair, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Bucky and John were in a ridiculous standoff over whose popcorn seasoning was the superior blend, Bucky’s Cajun mix versus John’s “proprietary” cinnamon-butter recipe. Alexei had, inexplicably, brought an entire suitcase of vodka “for emergencies.”

And you?

You were radiant.

You always were before a mission. That pre mission energy pulsed off you in waves of confidence sharpened into a kind of glow, like lightning trapped in a bottle. You cracked jokes too fast, leaned into the mood like it grounded you. Your laugh echoed louder, your eyes sparkled with mischief.

Bob hated it.

He hated it because it reminded him that soon, you’d be gone.

He sat on the edge of the couch, trying to act normal while you dropped onto the beanbag next to him, giggling at something Yelena had said about a haunted vending machine. You bumped his knee lightly with yours. He barely looked at you.

He was stretched thin, like a rubber band one pull away from snapping. Because all week, he’d replayed your drunk confession on a loop, your breath warm against his neck, the way your hand had pressed flat over his chest, how you’d slurred out that you liked him more than you should.

And then, the next day, you’d forgotten.

“I got so drunk,” you’d said with a sleepy laugh, sipping your coffee like it was a lifeline. “Sorry if I said anything weird.”

He’d smiled.

Lied.

Said, “Nothing weird.”

He’d swallowed it like poison.

⸻

So that night, for the first time in a hot minute, Bob accepted a shot of tequila.

Then another.

Then three more.

⸻

Half an hour later, he was drunk.

Not tipsy. Not warm and relaxed.

Sloshed.

He was flushed pink, laughing too loud, talking too fast, and struggling to open a bag of chips like it was a bomb he had to defuse. He kept tearing the corner wrong and then getting confused why chips were flying everywhere.

Yelena squinted suspiciously. “Did you spike his water?”

Ava shook her head slowly, sipping her beer. “Nope. That’s all him.”

Alexei bellowed a laugh. “I love drunk Bob. He is like crazy man you see on street!”

John leaned over, trying to keep a straight face. “Hey, buddy. You good?”

Bob blinked slowly, eyes glassy, then raised a shaky finger across the room and pointed… directly at you.

“She’s leaving,” he announced, mournful as a funeral bell. “Tomorrow. Or… or the day after. Or the… second tomorrow.”

Everyone froze.

The movie kept playing. But nobody was watching anymore.

Bucky let out a long, low breath. “Ah. There it is.”

Yelena covered her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking from a suppressed laugh.

You looked stunned. Concern flickered across your features as you stood and crossed the room, kneeling in front of Bob.

“Hey,” you said gently. “Bob, are you okay?”

He looked at you like you’d just asked him if the sun existed. Like you couldn’t possibly understand the storm unraveling inside him.

“I miss you already,” he said, his voice cracking. “And you’re not even gone yet.”

You blinked.

Your expression softened instantly. “Bob…”

“I don’t want to miss you,” he said, almost childlike. “I want to stay in the room. When you’re in the room. Always.”

Something splintered in your chest.

He wasn’t done.

“You don’t remember,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “That night at the promo thing. You said you liked me.”

Your brows furrowed. “What—?”

“You were drunk,” he continued, eyes wide and wounded. “Said I smelled good. Said my arms were big. Said you liked me more than you should. Said you loved me.”

You froze.

“I’ve been holding onto that,” Bob said, his voice breaking like glass. “Like a f*cking idiot. Thinking maybe it meant something. But you didn’t even remember.”

The room was dead silent.

No one laughed.

Not even Alexei.

You stared at Bob, at his bloodshot eyes, the way he sat hunched over like his confession physically hurt him. He looked like a man unmasked. No bravado. No power. Just raw, trembling truth.

“I’m in love with you.” he said softly.

And then?

He groaned, flopped face down on the couch, and mumbled into the cushions passing out

⸻

An hour passed.

Yelena switched the movie. Jenga towers collapsed. Alexei tried to start a drinking song that Ava promptly shut down.

But you didn’t move.

You sat beside Bob’s sleeping form, his body curled in a loose crescent against your side. He looked younger like this, soft and peaceful. His messy hair fell into his eyes. He smelled like warm laundry.

Without thinking, you reached over and gently brushed the hair from his forehead.

And something in you ached.

You hadn’t remembered that night.

But now you did.

And it meant everything.

⸻

The Next Morning

Bob woke up with a thunderstorm behind his eyes.

His skull felt like it had been jackhammered. His throat was dry. And the taste in his mouth could only be described as salty

He sat up slowly, wincing at the daylight.

And then he saw it.

A glass of water. A packet of painkillers. And a note in your handwriting, folded clean and left on the coffee table.

He blinked, opened it with trembling fingers.

You were a total mess.

I took at least three videos for blackmail.

Also, you were right. I did say those things at the party.

I meant them. Even if I don’t remember every word.

Talk before I leave?

—Y/N

His heart tripped over itself.

And then the door creaked open.

You stepped inside, ready to go. Hoodie zipped, backpack over one shoulder, hair tied in a high knot. Your eyes flicked to him, uncertain, hopeful, vulnerable in a way you rarely let yourself be.

“So,” you said softly, stepping closer, “about that talk?”

Bob stood slowly. He ran a hand over his face, unsure if this was a dream or just a hangover hallucination.

“I’m really sorry if I—”

“I meant it,” you cut in, voice firm. “Everything I said that night. I didn’t remember at first, but… even if I had, I was scared. Scared it would ruin what we have. Scared it would make things complicated.”

You took a shaky breath.

“But I think not saying anything? That’s worse.”

Bob stared at you, eyes wide and clear for the first time in days.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you added quickly, nerves bleeding through. “I just couldn’t leave without—”

“I love you,” he blurted.

You blinked.

A slow, stunned smile curved your lips.

“Even hungover?” you teased, voice lighter.

Bob laughed, quiet, sheepish. “Especially hungover.”

You stepped into him, closing the space. Your forehead pressed against his, breath shared between parted lips.

“I love you too, I promise I’ll come back soon.” you whispered.

“You better,” he murmured, cupping your cheek and pressing the gentlest kiss on your lips like a promise.

“I’m not drinking again till you do.”

“Deal.”

⸻

A/N: Guys was this boring I can’t tell I need ideas on what to write, please give me prompts in my in box!

[animeficsworld]

Reckless and Yours

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: Bakugou never said your name, until the night he thought you were gone for good. Now, he can’t stop.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

The mission briefing room was tense just always. 

Pro Hero Dynamight sat near the front, arms crossed, jaw set like he was already mid-argument. You leaned against the opposite wall, arms casually draped around yourself, twirling a drop of water between your fingers.

“Stop that,” Bakugou snapped without looking.

“What, this?” You shaped the water into a tiny sword, then let it collapse with a grin. “Gotta stay hydrated somehow.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue further. Typical. You were reckless. 

He was explosive. 

Somehow, you always worked well together, if not chaotically. 

You pushed boundaries. He tried to break them. It was never quiet between you, but it was something else. 

Electric.

Still, in all the years of fighting side by side, Katsuki Bakugou had never once said your name.

You’d noticed it. Everyone had. “Oi,” “You,” “Stupid Waterworks.” But never your actual name. 

You called him by his, casually, confidently, daringly.

He never said yours.

“Bet you don’t even remember my name,” you teased once while patching a cut on his jaw. The city still burned behind you while your fingers smelled like ice and smoke.

Bakugou stared ahead, refusing to answer. Then stood and walked away.

So you stopped asking.

The mission went sideways.

It was supposed to be simple, escort and defend. You’d gone ahead to scout the area, and Bakugou had stayed behind, forced to play defence. The explosion took you off your feet and buried you beneath rubble before your comms even crackled.

And when the dust cleared, no water. You couldn’t summon it. Couldn’t breathe.

Bakugou’s voice screamed through the line. Then silence.

Then chaos.

You woke up in the hospital, wrapped in warmth you didn’t recognize. Your vision was hazy, but you could hear it—shouting down the hallway.

"She’s alive. Let me in. I don’t give a damn about protocol, I’m not leaving!”

Then the door slammed open.

You blinked.

Bakugou looked like he’d crawled through hell. His arms were cut, shirt torn, ash streaked across his face. His crimson eyes locked onto yours with something unfamiliar in them.

He stepped forward slowly. Hesitantly.

“…Katsu?”

“Don’t,” he snapped, voice strained. “Don’t fucking say my name like that.”

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you didn’t almost die,” he growled. “Like I wouldn’t’ve burned the whole goddamn city down trying to get to you. Like it doesn’t matter.”

You were about to make a joke. Something light. Something stupid. But then...

He said it.

Your name.

Soft. Guttural. Breaking.

“…Y/N.”

You froze.

He sat at the edge of your bed and clenched his fists.

“I thought I’d never get to say it,” he muttered. “Didn’t realize how bad I needed to until it was almost too late.”

Recovery was slow. You spent weeks in rehab and physical therapy, relearning how to control your ice under stress. 

Bakugou visited every day. He never said much, but he used your name. Casually. Gently. Like he was practising. Like he needed the sound on his tongue to prove you were still here.

One night, sitting beside you with the hospital windows fogging from your quirk, he reached for your hand.

“If I say it again,” he asked, “you gonna stop me?”

You smirked, heart thudding.

“Say it,” you whispered.

He did.

And didn’t stop.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

[obeymeluv]

Getting Kidnapped was Not on the List! [Malleus x Reader]

Trigger warnings: Mentions of being eaten alive. Mentions of body pain/descriptions of shifting.

Not proofread.

The future king of Briar Valley isn't sure why he has such a feeling of impending doom, but it worries at him. He looks out the window of his room in Diasomnia as if he can see across the cobblestone and into town where you're supposed to be shopping right now. Malleus hums, green eyes narrowing as the book he's reading presses into his lower lip.

Yes, something is certainly amiss.

He feels tingly, like his very nerves are pricking and sparking at something. Malleus stands to his full height, putting the book down as he makes his way outside. There's nothing unusual in the sky, no ominous clouds, but he feels the shimmer of a glamour in the air.

It's faint, but he can sense it. Nowhere near the school, he'd gather. Wherever it is, he can't quite pinpoint it. He heads back inside to grab some snacks for the crows and ravens that call the trees around Diasomnia home. Hearing the familiar rattle of croutons, seeds, and nuts, a few of them perk up and call curiously. "Come, my friends!" Malleus encourages, sitting on the stone bench outside the dorm. They swarm, wings fluttering impatiently as he picks balanced handfuls and lays them at their feet. "Now that you're fed," Malleus leans down to them and speaks casually, like he's having tea with Sebek or Lilia, "would you mind doing a bit of scouting for me? There seems to be an active glamour and I'm curious. You would be rewarded handsomely, I assure you." They take off and he chuckles. Loyal familiars, birds. His grandmother adores them, too. Malleus brushes crumbs and bits from his pants, pushing off of the bench. All at once his chest seizes and Malleus startles.

It's enough to knock the air out of him. Is it...terror?

His phone rings in his pocket and he fishes for it, growling through the fluttering squeeze in his chest. "Hello?"

"Malleus! Help me, please!"

"Child of Man?! What's wrong?!" Malleus felt his fangs growing, threatening to cut his own tongue. The tremble in your voice, the fear, sent his stomach churning and boiling. He could feel the muscles in his back rippling as he lost his grip on his own glamour, the extra ligaments and bones needed for his wings threatening to tear his human shoulders as he staved off shifting from a biped to a quadruped.

"You dare call upon the future king?!" he heard a voice sneer with rage and disbelief. "Insolent, disgusting thing!"

"How dare you?!" Malleus roars, wincing as his jaw pops a little. His human mouth pales in comparison to the wide maw of his dragon form. Pearly teeth click against each other as they begin lose their human shape. "You shall not address my Child of Man in such a way!"

"My liege, please--"

"You call me liege but fail to state your name! That is TRUE insolence!" Malleus feels the claw on his thumb cut his cheek. He doesn't care. "To WHOM do I speak?"

"E-Elm Leafdance, sire."

The name is somewhat familiar. He vaguely recalls a miserly fae always moping about and telling old tales about horrible humans. Everyone in the castle could recite them word for word. Lilia was at odds with him, he recalled. At one point Elm had been accused of kidnapping Silver but Lilia never made a formal complaint before the court so it faded into obscurity.

"Unhand my Child of Man, Leafdance! If you have qualms with them, I shall be addressed in their stead. Come to me at once!"

"A most generous offer, young king," the fae is stuttering now, "but leaving would prove costly to, your, um...Child of Man..."

He can barely comprehend through the haze of rage. Malleus feels his chest burning to a nauseating degree, the green fire begging to be set free. Wisps of smoke slither from his lips. He snorts, expelling most of it. If Leafdance cannot leave you unattended, that means you're at the mercy of some kind of enchantment with sentience that he controls.

That sentience would diminish with distance and who knows how that would leave you? Clearly you're being restrained if it would prove 'costly'. The idea of you being in any peril ESPECIALLY from a fae has Malleus seething. His phone is barely holding on; Malleus can feel the fractured screen poking his cheek.

He turns sharply towards Diasomnia, half-floating as he jumps from ledge to crenel, climbing up a merlon to stare at the town in the distance. "Raise your sigil and I shall come to you." Malleus snaps the phone even though he tried to mash the 'end call' button. Putting his thumb through it just pressed everything inward and it crumpled like a can.

Malleus casts the broken phone aside, watching the sky out of the corner of his eye as he ascends the main tower of Diasomnia. It is one of the taller point on campus, only rivaled by NRC itself. He hunches, releasing his glamour.

His grand shadow looms over Diasomnia, wings stirring gusts as he launches off the stone. The stone crumbles a bit, his claws leaving scratches. Malleus doesn't remember the last time he flew in his true form but the wind cutting around his scales feels nice. A glittering leaf sparks in the distance and he bellows, pawing at the air as if that will help him rise faster.

Malleus catches an updraft, oblivious to Lilia ripping out of Diasomnia's storage room on a broom. The prince darts forward, his eyes hard and pupils slitted. His tail whips to and fro, top layer of scales raised and acting as a stabilizer.

He breaches the enchantment and lands in the clearing. Sadly, the thought to land ON Leafdance didn't cross his mind. The ground trembles beneath him, claws sinking into the soft grass. Malleus lowers his head to Leafdance not as a greeting, but to better see the cretin that dares harm his cherished Child of Man.

"S-Sire!" the chestnut-haired man squeaks, "H-How nice to see you!"

Malleus snorts in response, knocking the fae back. I cannot say the same, Malleus glares at the fae, green embers dancing at the back of his throat. Flecks of green sparkle in his teeth. Some dragon fae can talk in their true form but he cannot. Where is my Child of Man?

"On the subject of the human--" Leafdance begins.

His ferocious rage dims as he inhales your scent. Malleus relaxes a bit and it's like his vision clears, allowing him to see the clusters of trees and tangle of roots you're stuck in. It was a nasty gnarl, for certain. If Elm left, it would surely knot around you and you'd lose a limb (at the very least). Judging by the lone arm sticking out of the tangle, he'd guess you were being twisted and the weight of the branches would crush you.

Not something to be stuck in.

Release them, Malleus' stares at Elm, satisfied with the way the fae shakes while looking at the reflection in his large eye.

"But sire! Please come to your senses! Humans are--"

Malleus isn't sure what came over him in that moment. He was annoyed, yes, but even when in his dragon form he was rational. Composed. Regal. Fully cognizant.

And he's fully aware that he lunges forward, all teeth.

The terrified squawk is muffled in the wet cavern of his mouth, Malleus chomping on the feeble body. He feels the bones roll, flesh squishing against his teeth like pulp. I think I'd rather have Lilia's cooking, Malleus muses as he bobs his head to send the remains down his throat.

The twist of roots explode, no longer connected to their summoner. He's surprised to find you awake and alert. Perhaps Elm meant to keep you conscious and make you suffer. You're dazed and covered in tree bits.

Even in this form he finds you adorably tiny. He can't laugh in this form; it turns into a rumble of a coo. You flinch when the towering creature registers in your vision but something about the brilliant green of that eye, the way those massive paws--claws?--fold patiently in front of you, gives you pause.

"M-Malleus?" you've turned over onto your hands and knees. He rests his maw on his paws, blinking at you.

It is I, Child of Man, Malleus snorts gently. It blows your hair around and the sound he gives is akin to a purr. You sit back on your knees, stunned and staring up at him with thoughtful adoration.

Joy. Relief. Love, perchance?

He can tell it's weird for you to hear his voice but you recover quickly. The idea that his voice sooths you is more than enough for him.

"I didn't realize you could turn into an actual dragon. I just thought being a dragon fae meant you had horns and a tail!" you laughed, cheeks turning red as the embarrassment hit you.

We fae have many secrets, Malleus nudges you with his snout, careful not to shove you. He feels your tiny, warm hands brush his scales. Trace them.

Ooh it's divine! Malleus' tail beats the ground and he's careful to knock the trees away from the two of you. "Thank you for saving me," You kiss the side of his face and wonder if he feels it. His pupil dilates and you laugh as the side of a pink tongue comes out to lick you. "But you squished my groceries. I'll need to make another trip. Want to join me?"

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" Lilia drops down from the broom, landing squarely between Malleus' horns. He grabs onto the closest one, feet slipping as Malleus furrows his forehead and starts to move. "Don't swing me, you heathen! I can't believe you FLEW OFF FROM THE SCHOOL!" Lilia shakes the broom, yelping as Malleus looks down and forces him to dangle.

My human was in trouble. What was I to do?

"Tell Crowley?!" Lilia lets go to float in front of Malleus, one hand on his hip. Malleus huffs in response, blowing the fae towards a tree. Had he not teleported, Lilia would be dealing with some serious back pain! He reappeared beside you, leaning on the broom.

I needed a solution, not another problem, Malleus shook his head.

"Why can't Malleus come to the store with me?" you interrupt the staring contest. Apparently Malleus could filter people out when it came to telepathy; he and Lilia were making faces at each other.

"Because he needs to digest what he ate before he reverts to his human form." Lilia sighed. Malleus certainly wasn't the first dragon to eat someone but the boy hadn't been properly educated about taking care of himself after doing so. He'd been taught basic etiquette about showing off his fangs and how to control his wings but eating things in his dragon form hadn't been on anyone's mind since he preferred to be in his human form.

He was a gentle soul, much like his father, and no one really saw him resorting to such things. Queen Maleanor, absolutely! Stories of Queen Maleficia tearing chunks out of annoying suitors certainly made the rounds but no one really saw that in Malleus until now.

"He'll have terrible indigestion if he doesn't." Lilia frowned. "Among other issues."

How long will it take? Malleus cocked his head at Lilia.

"At least an hour. Two to be on the safe side." Lilia sighed, shaking his head.

"Well, I still need groceries." you shrugged, getting off the ground. You'd just have to use whatever bags the store gave you. You're sure the ones under Malleus can't be saved.

Oh Child of Man, for whom my heart sings, might you pay tribute with a bit of ice cream?

"A kiss wasn't enough?" you teased.

"A kiss? Oh, Malleus, you cheeky thing!" Lilia laughs. His young charge may be in dragon form but even dragons can be embarrassed. It's mostly awkward shuffling, dismissive wing flaps, and avoidant eyes, but it's still hilarious.

I would like both, thank you, Malleus' tail starts to wag again. It wags harder when he takes Lilia by surprise and blows him through a cluster of trees like a dandelion seed.

"I'll see what I can do," you pat the side of his face before walking over to help Lilia up and head back to the store.

[dismalflo]

how did it end?

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who see each other for the first time after the breakup ✩ 5.5k words

summary: After remus broke up with you, you decided to move away and distance yourself from your friends. What happens when you move back and run into each other again?

Read part 2 to this fic here.

cw: exes to ???, slightly angsty, little bit of fluff, everyone is lowkey rooting for remus and reader to get back together, reader is insecure about friendships.

an: this is so much longer than I originally planned

It's strange being in a new place, full of uncomfortable new experiences. When your last tenancy ended you'd been strong armed into moving here to be closer to your friends. Those friends being Regulus and Barty. Barty had told you in no uncertain terms that you were ‘boring and lonely now’ and that ‘being closer to us can fix that, treasure’. So here you are. 

You scouted out a new favourite cafe to work in, they make the most delicious latte ever. It's quiet enough that you don't get distracted but busy enough to not feel awkward about spending hours there. The rhythmic clicking of keys drums like a metronome as you type, engrossed in what you're doing, unaware of your surroundings. 

“Oh, hello.” The voice is shocked and tinged with confusion. You recognise it, of course you do, it's Remus. You want to cringe in on yourself because why the fuck is he here? Instead, you put a polite smile on your face, hoping it looks sincere, and look up at him.

He looks the same as always—warm, soft. You're a bit startled at how little he’s changed in the time you’ve been apart—handsome as ever, hair a bit longer and maybe a little older. An awkward smile plays on his lips, but his eyes are wide, as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Hi, Remus. How are you?” you ask, stumbling over your words, caught off guard by his presence.

“I—uh, I’m good, thanks. What are you... doing here?” His voice is hesitant, unsure if he has the right to ask.

“I’ve just m—” you begin, but then you’re interrupted by Sirius’ sudden arrival. The moment you spot him, the weight of avoidance hits you. You've been actively steering clear of all of them for so long. If there was ever a time for the earth to swallow you whole, it’s now.

“Hello, sunshine. Reg told me you’d moved in just around the corner.” He greets you with an easy smile, and you immediately notice that he’s not surprised in the slightest to see you here. A frown creases your brow as you try to process this—Regulus never mentioned either of them living nearby. But then, you suppose, if he had, you never would’ve come here.

“He did?” you ask, focusing on Sirius—he’s easier to look at than Remus, who still seems stunned.

“Oh yeah, he was more enthusiastic about it than I’ve ever heard him be, honestly.” Sirius pauses, then smirks. “But I suppose if you get any positive inflection out of him, you'd think that.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that—Sirius is right.

Your gaze flicks over to Remus, still frozen in shock, and something inside you flips. You can’t stand it. You need to leave, and you need to leave now.

“It was really nice to see you both, but I’ve got to go,” you say quickly, gathering your things, offering a strained smile in their direction. As soon as you stand, Sirius’s hand lands gently on your shoulder, anchoring you, ensuring you hear him out

“Listen, maybe you could think about not dodging everyones texts now and come to dinner at James and Lily’s?” there's a soft smile on his face, it looks like he really means it but you're almost confident he’s saying it to be polite. “Even Junior comes, weird bloke that one.” He huffs.

“I’ll think about it,” you reply, offering a tight smile. “I’ll see you guys around.”

You risk one last glance at Remus before turning to leave.

As soon as you’re out the door, Sirius lightly slaps the back of Remus’s head, snapping him out of the reverie he’s been in since the start of the conversation.

“What was that for?” Remus asks, rubbing the back of his head to soothe the sting.

“You’re a fucking idiot, mate” Sirius responds, shaking his head.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“Regulus Arcturus Black,” you snap as you storm through the door to his flat. “I am going to kill you.”

On the walk over, the confusion you'd felt after running into Remus and Sirius quickly spiraled into something far darker—rage. You were almost certain the ‘chance’ encounter had been carefully orchestrated by the Black brothers. You’d been content living in a world where Remus didn’t really exist for you anymore. He’d become a distant echo, like a pleasant memory you occasionally revisited—until today.

“Oh, middle name too? You’re in trouble now, Reggie,” Barty drawls, feigning sympathy from his spot on the couch, sprawled out like he couldn’t care less.

You don’t even glance at him, your glare locked onto the culprit in front of you. “Care to explain why I just ran into your brother at the café?” you demand, arms crossed tight over your chest, radiating annoyance.

“Because he likes coffee, I’d assume,” Regulus replies with a casual shrug, as if the answer is self-evident.

“Remus was there,” you deadpan, unwilling to let this go.

“Oh, did I forget to mention that he lives nearby? Must’ve slipped my mind,” Regulus says, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, clearly enjoying your frustration.

You feel your fists clench at your sides, your teeth gritted. Regulus knows exactly what he's doing—pushing your buttons just because he can. The worst part is that it’s working.

“Reg, you didn’t forget to mention it,” you seethe, narrowing your eyes at him.

When he saw the anger radiating from you, Regulus’ smirk faltered slightly. For a fleeting moment, his usual aloofness cracked, and he softened. “Look, I’m sorry. But I didn’t know how else to handle this,” he said, his shoulders lifting slightly in a half-hearted shrug. “You’ve turned into a hermit, and I think you should talk to your friends. You can’t keep shutting them out.”

“I am talking to my friends,” you shot back, gesturing vaguely between the three of you. “Besides, I don’t even think they really want to be friends with me.”

Barty, who had been silently watching the exchange, groaned and pushed himself off the couch, his movements slow and deliberate as he approached you. Without warning, his hands found your shoulders, giving them a rough shake as if to snap you out of your stupor.

“Treasure, who the hell wouldn’t want to be friends with you?” His voice was half-mocking, half-sincere. His hands shook you harder, as though trying to force some sense into you. “Not that I particularly approve of any of them,” he added with a sharp glance at Regulus, but his touch remained on you, firm and insistent.

“Shut up, Barty. You loved it when we went for dinner —don’t pretend otherwise, you liar.” Regulus stands from his spot, stepping in between you and Barty with a look of mild exasperation. “Stop shaking her, you’re going to break her in half.” He tried to pry Barty’s hands off you, but his voice softened as he added, “He’s right, though, you know?

“No,” you said flatly, each word heavy with finality. “They were only friends with me because I was Remus’ girlfriend. And that’s all it was.”

“All I’m saying is, maybe you should just try speaking to them.” 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Since your encounter with Remus and the conversation with Reg, you’ve done exactly the opposite of what he suggested. Instead of moving forward, you’ve retreated into your flat, alone with your thoughts. The memories swirl, the pain and the joy, the highs and the lows. But mostly, it’s Remus that lingers—his image impossible to shake.

You can’t stop replaying every moment with him: his smile, his words, the way he laughed so effortlessly even when life felt heavy. There was a quiet strength in him, hidden beneath his gentleness. And those eyes—warm, knowing, full of secrets and pain. It felt as if he understood you in ways no one else could, even without you speaking a word.

The moments you shared with him seem so distant now, like they belong to another lifetime. And more than once, you’ve found yourself wondering if he’s thinking of you too. Does he feel that same ache in his chest, that pull that refuses to fade? Remus has left his mark on you—one you can’t scrub away, one that’ll linger far longer than you're ready to admit. The fondness you feel for him is unshakable, no matter how much it hurts.

When you realize you’re stuck in an endless loop of thoughts, you stand up. Dressed in your coziest clothes, you step outside. The cold wind cuts through the streets, but the fresh air is oddly comforting. You walk, letting the rhythm of your steps clear your mind, until you reach the store. It feels like the right moment to restock, to do something, anything, other than be trapped in your head.

Halfway down the cereal aisle, surrounded by the hum of the fluorescent lights, you hear a gasp. You turn, and there she is: Lily Evans, fiery red hair unmistakable, a tired but loving smile on her face as she balances her baby on her hip. For the first time in days, a wide, genuine smile spreads across your face. She’s the person you were closest to all that time ago, your confidante, and here she is—storming down the aisle toward you, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

She's quick to wrap her free arm around you, and you do the same to her. “Hello lovely, I heard you were lurking somewhere near here.” she exclaims brightly, “can’t believe you didn't tell me.”

The guilt rises in your chest, and you hesitate, flushing at the unspoken question. Did she really care about you that much? “I’m sorry, Lils. I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me…” you murmur, sheepish.

She laughs, a sound that fills the space between you both, and brushes it off with the ease of someone who knows you better than you know yourself. “Don’t be silly. Of course, I do." She says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and for the first time in a long while, you begin to believe it. Maybe you really are friends, with or without Remus.

"Is this Harry?" you ask, nodding toward the little bundle in her arms. At the sound of his name, he perks up, offering you a shy wave, which you return with a warm smile.

“God, he looks just like James," you say, unable to hide the fondness in your voice.

“I know," Lily replies, a dreamy tone filling her voice. "Acts like him too.”

You laugh at that, teasing, "How do you deal with them? You must be a saint."

She shrugs, the exhaustion of motherhood evident in her smile, but there’s a playfulness in her eyes. “I have no idea. It’s a madhouse 24/7.”

“Well, what did you expect?" you reply, your tone lighthearted, and the two of you fall into easy conversation, catching up on the details of each other's lives. Time seems to slow in that moment. 

After a while, Lily grows quiet, her gaze softening as she looks at you with something like concern in her eyes. She hesitates for a moment before speaking again, her voice gentler now, almost like a secret is being shared between the two of you. "Listen, no pressure, but I really think you should come for dinner. You know, just for fun. I promise, it'll be a good time."

You look away, avoiding her gaze as a wave of doubt rushes over you. “I don’t want to intrude…” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

But Lily isn’t deterred. She places a firm hand on your upper arm, her touch warm and reassuring. “We’re your friends, Y/N. You wouldn’t be intruding.” Her words are simple, but there’s a weight to them.

Still, there’s something holding you back. "You were Remus’ friends first," you say, almost apologetically. "I don’t want to make it awkward or uncomfortable by being there. You should've seen him when we saw each other in the cafe.”

Lily lets out a soft chuckle, the sound light and knowing. “I did hear about that," she says, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "But he's a big boy, I'm sure he'll be alright." She winks at you, a playful glint in her eyes. 

Before you can respond, James Potter is walking down the aisle. 

“There you are! Been looking for you all over, angel.” His eyes focused on Lily, when his gaze shifts, to see who she’s been speaking to, his grin brightens even more. Genuinely happy to see you. 

"Y/N!" he exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug that lifts you off your feet for a moment. “It’s so lovely to see you.”

His enthusiasm is infectious, and you can’t help but smile up at him as he pulls away. “You too, James,” you reply, the weight in your chest easing just a little.

Lily hands Harry to James before turning to you with a sly smile. “I was just saying that she should come to dinner at ours, Jamie. What do you think?”

James’ grin widens even more, head nodding vigorously. "Oh, yes! Please do. I’ll get on my knees and beg if I have to."

 You laugh, the sound light and free, before shaking your head at his theatrics. "You really don’t have to go that far," you tease, though the warmth in your chest is undeniable. The genuine kindness in both of their eyes, the way they both seem to have picked up right where you left off, makes something inside you stir. You can’t remember the last time you felt like you belonged somewhere.

Lily’s gaze softens, her voice quieting as she adds, "We miss you, you know." Her words hang in the air for a moment, a subtle weight that makes your heart ache just a little.

James, noticing the shift, places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, Y/N. But dinner’s on us, no pressure. Just... come, yeah? We could all use a little bit of good company.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words feel heavy on your tongue, like they’ve been trapped inside you for so long. Your instincts scream at you to run, to retreat back into your shell, but the warmth, the offer of real, honest connection, tugs at something inside you. Maybe this is what you need. Maybe it’s what you’ve always needed.

"Alright," you say, surprising even yourself with the calmness in your voice. "I’ll come."

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“Why the fuck did I say yes?” you groan, your feet dragging as you approach Lily and James’ house, Regulus and Barty walking beside you, their fingers intertwined. A tight knot of anxiety is building inside you, one that feels like it might snap any second.

“Chill the fuck out, Tres. You’re gonna make me snap if you keep this up,” Barty whines, his voice heavy with exaggerated drama as he slouches beside you.

“What he said,” Regulus agrees, pressing a soft kiss to Barty’s cheek. He glances at you, brow furrowed. “I don’t get why you’re so worked up. It sounds like they actually want to be your friends, which is what I told you.”

“I know, but I feel like it’ll be different once everyone’s together. It’s just gonna be… weird,” you mutter, staring down at the ground, kicking aimlessly at the rocks scattered in your path. “I could always just bail—tell them I’m not feeling well.”

Barty’s enthusiastic "Yes, let’s do that" is drowned out by Regulus, who smirks and shakes his head. “No, if you do that, I’ll tell them you chickened out. Which is exactly what you’d be doing.”

You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms. “You’re a right sod, Black.”

Regulus smirks, unfazed. “Would you look at that, we’re here.”

You glance up and realize with a start that you've arrived at Lily and James’ house. The warm glow from the windows spills out onto the porch, and you can hear faint laughter from inside. Your nerves spike again, but you take a deep breath, steeling yourself.

Regulus watches you with an unreadable expression, but you catch the glint of concern in his eyes. “You’ll be fine,” he says quietly, his tone softer than usual. “Remember, they invited you because they want you there, not because they feel obligated.”

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and there stands Lily, her expression lighting up even more when she sees you. “You made it!” she exclaims, pulling you into a quick hug. "Come in, come in. Everyone’s just getting settled."

You step inside, immediately greeted by the warmth of the house and the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. Harry’s running around with a toy in his hand playing with Sirius, and James is perched on the couch, looking absolutely delighted to see you.

Then your eyes flick over the rest of the room and settle on Remus, as if drawn to him like magnets. He offers you a small, friendly smile and a nod of his head which you return.

"Hey, hey!" James grins, raising his glass in a mock toast. "I’m glad you made it. We were starting to think you’d bail."

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” you reply dryly, but you can’t help the small laugh that slips out.

As you make your way toward the couch, you can’t stop your gaze from drifting back to where Remus is standing near the fireplace, quietly observing the room. When Remus catches your eye, his smile is faint, almost hesitant. His gaze flickers away for a moment before he meets yours again, his expression neutral but not unfriendly.

You swallow hard, heart beating a little faster. The silence between you both is thick with tension, the remnants of a relationship that was once close—too close to ignore, too delicate to heal completely.

"Hey," you say, your voice steady, though you feel everything inside you twist.

"Hey," he replies, his voice quiet but warm. There's a slight tilt of his head, as if he's not entirely sure what to do with himself at this moment. He looks like he wants to say more, but the words don’t come, and for a long, uncomfortable beat, neither of you speaks.

Lily is talking about something with James, her voice fading in the background as you remain locked in this strange standoff with Remus. You tell yourself to just breathe, to focus on the room, the warmth of the fire crackling in the corner. But then, just as you're about to force yourself to look away, he shifts, taking a small step toward you.

"I—" Remus begins, but the words stop again, his hands running through his hair in a familiar gesture that makes your heart ache. "I’m glad you came tonight. I wasn’t sure if… well, if you’d want to be here with everything between us."

“I wanted to be here,” you say, your voice low, trying to keep the honesty in your words without letting the pain of it all seep through.

There’s a long pause, and then Remus looks at you, his eyes searching yours for something, anything. “Good… you – you look good by the way.” Before you can respond, hands are roughly placed on both your shoulders, Sirius, all energy and excitement. 

“Let's get you a drink, Sunshine,” with that, you’re whisked away towards the kitchen. 

As Sirius drags you toward the kitchen, you can’t help but chuckle. The whole thing feels a little surreal—this weird in-between space where the past and present collide, but you’re trying not to think too hard about it. If you do, you might spiral.

"Come on, you look like you need it." Sirius grins at you, and it’s one of those smiles that has the ability to make you forget your nerves for a second.

“Yeah, definitely,” you mutter, glancing back over your shoulder at Remus. He’s still standing by the fireplace, looking distant, his eyes trained on the conversation happening at the couch.

The laughter from the living room seeps into the kitchen as you look away, reminding you that you’re still expected to be a part of this—expected to be okay. You swallow hard. "I need a breath of fresh air," you blurt before you can stop yourself.

Sirius looks up from where he's poured the drink, his eyes softening with concern. “You sure? I mean, there’s a lot going on out there, but you don’t have to stay if it’s too much.” His voice drops to a more serious tone.

You nod quickly, unable to explain what’s suffocating you. “Yeah, I just need a minute.” You don’t wait for another word from him, slipping past him and through the kitchen door, stepping out into the cool evening air.

The back garden is quieter than the house, with only the sounds of bugs and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. You lean against the porch railing, inhaling deeply as you try to clear the weight from your chest. The coolness of the night feels like a balm against the fire inside you, but it doesn’t take long for the tightness in your throat to return. The silence is comforting, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts of Remus—his smile, the way his eyes lingered on you earlier.

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly, but the moment is fleeting. The knot in your stomach tightens again, and you feel like you're drowning in all of it. What am I doing here? you wonder, pressing your palms against your eyes.

The sound of the door opening behind you startles you, and you whirl around to see Remus standing there, fiddling nervously with the cigarette box in his hands. His posture is hesitant, shy, and beneath the dim light, he looks bone tired.

He glances up at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the words.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words hanging awkwardly between you. Your brow furrows in confusion, and he must see it because he adds, “I didn’t think that when I broke up with you, you’d think that meant they wouldn’t want to be friends with you anymore.” He gestures vaguely toward the door he’d just come through.

“That’s not your fault, Remus,” you say quietly, shrugging and turning your gaze away from him, toward the garden. “It’s just how breakups go.”

He moves closer, but keeps his distance, leaning against the railing. “I should’ve made it clearer.”

You inhale sharply, your voice sharper than intended. “It wasn’t your job anymore. It’s fine.” The words taste bitter on your tongue.

He’s silent for a long moment, studying you—your words, your tone, the way you hold yourself. He sees the changes, but also the parts of you that are still the same, and something about it seems to weigh on him.

He shifts uncomfortably, then finally speaks again. “I wish you’d shout at me, y’know?” His voice is softer, almost pleading.

You turn to look at him, incredulous. “Why?” you ask, pausing. “So you can feel better? So you can say you left me because I was some raging bitch who’s impossible to deal with?” A weak chuckle escapes your lips, hollow and bitter.

“No,” he shakes his head quickly, his gaze softening. “Because I deserve it. I left because I was a coward.” His voice drops to a near whisper, vulnerable and raw, barely audible over the sound of the wind.

You both fall into a heavy silence, the air thick with everything left unsaid. Neither of you knows how to fill the space between you, unsure of whether you even want to. The quiet feels too loud now, and all the unspoken words hang like a weight between you both, heavy and unresolved.

“Why–” the words get stuck in your throat, “why did you break up with me?” your voice sounds weak even to your own ears.

Remus shifts slightly, his hands still nervously fidgeting with the cigarette box. He exhales a slow breath, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to turn away again—like he’s too scared to face the weight of your question. But he doesn’t. His eyes lock with yours, and you can see the storm of emotions behind them.

"I didn’t know how to be what you needed," he admits finally, his voice tinged with regret. "I—" He pauses, shaking his head, trying to find the right words, as if they're all tangled up in his chest. "I couldn’t give you what you deserved. I thought... maybe if I let you go, you’d be better off without me, because I couldn’t give you the kind of love you needed."

You feel the sting of his words, a dull ache that spreads through your ribs. You turn away slightly, trying to steady yourself, but your hands grip the railing tightly. “I didn’t need perfect, Remus,” you say quietly, almost to yourself. “I just needed you to be here, to try.”

He winces at that, and you can see the way his jaw clenches. "I know.” 

You're both standing there, pensive, the stillness of the moment heavy in the air. The garden before you stretches out in a quiet, almost forgotten beauty. The sun, low in the sky, casts long shadows across the path, while the fading light tints the flowers with a soft, golden glow.

You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling your body in as though trying to gather the pieces of yourself that feel scattered, lost. It's an instinctive action, one that’s meant to soothe, to offer a small measure of comfort. But it doesn’t quite work. The tightness in your chest remains, the ache of unsaid words, of things left unresolved. The warmth of your own touch feels distant, like a quiet echo that doesn't quite reach you.

Just as you're about to let yourself walk away, Remus speaks up again. “They all really missed you.” He turns to face you, offering a half-smile, half-grimace that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

"I missed them too... I missed my friends," you reply, but before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, "Did you miss me?" You immediately look away, wishing you could take them back. You feel vulnerable, uncertain. It’s a moment you immediately regret—and you can see the same hesitation reflected in Remus’s face.

His heart aches at your question, and he feels it crack in his chest.

“Of course I did,” he says, his voice wavering like he’s on the edge of tears. When you finally turn to meet his gaze, you notice the shimmer of it in his eyes.

"Maybe we could try being friends again?" you ask, the words tentative, fragile.

"Yeah... I’d like that," he nods, his voice soft but sincere. His answer feels like it came too quickly, like a reflex.

You give a small, uncertain smile, but hesitate before speaking again. “Do you really want to be friends?”

Remus glances upward, his posture stiffening. For a moment, there's an unbearable silence. Then, with a sigh, he looks back at you. “God, no.” He says it like it’s devastating, like the situation you're both in is causing him physical pain. He just looks at you for a second, “I don’t think I can be friends with you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, the weight of his words hanging between you both. The air feels heavy, and the silence stretches for what feels like an eternity. You open your mouth, but no words come out. For a moment, you simply stare at him, your mind racing, trying to process what he’s just said.

Remus shifts uncomfortably, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides, like he’s battling with himself. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that,” he adds, his voice softer now, more tentative. “I just... after everything, I don’t know if I can pretend it’s just nothing. You mean too much to me.”

“I—” you begin, but your voice falters. You swallow hard, the knot in your throat thick and tight again. It’s like everything you’ve been trying to suppress, to ignore, has come rushing back all at once. “I don’t know what to do with that,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

Remus shifts closer, but there’s still a careful distance between you, like he’s waiting for you to make the next move, for you to decide if this is something you both want to untangle. His eyes are wide, searching yours, as if waiting for a sign, some clue that this isn’t too much to bear.

“I don’t either,” he admits, his voice breaking slightly. “But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t still care about you. Not when it’s this obvious. Not when all I think about is you. Not when I’m standing here, hoping you’ll look at me and say that maybe we can try again.”

The air feels thick, and you take a shaky breath, wondering if you’ve made a mistake, if it would be easier to walk away now, before anything else is said. But the truth is, you’ve never been able to just walk away from Remus, no matter how hard you tried. Your heart knows it too well—maybe better than your mind ever could.

“You hurt me,” you say, the words raw and unfiltered. “And I’m scared. I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

“I know,” he says quickly, his voice trembling with an honesty that cuts deep. “I know I hurt you. And I’m not asking you to forget, not even for a second. I just want to... I don’t know... I just want to figure out if there’s something left between us. If we can try to fix this.”

The thought of trying again, of reopening those old wounds to see if they could heal, fills you with both hope and fear. You stare at him, searching for any hint of the person you used to love, and yet there’s something different now. Something older. Wiser, perhaps. But the weight of what he’s asking hangs in the balance, and it’s hard to imagine letting go of the hurt, of the walls you’ve built around yourself since everything ended.

“Maybe we can start over,” you say quietly, your voice shaky but steady. “Maybe we can take it slow. And see what happens.”

Remus nods, his face softening, though you can see the weight in his eyes. “Yeah. Slow. I’d like that. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You look away for a moment, the thoughts swirling in your head. This isn’t an easy choice. It’s messy, and there are pieces of both of you scattered everywhere. But there’s also something raw, something real, in the space between you. It’s terrifying, but it’s also... maybe it’s worth it.

“Okay,” you whisper, meeting his gaze again. “We can try.”

The words hang in the air between you, tentative, like a promise you’re not sure you’re ready to keep. You swallow, trying to steady the tremble in your chest. The silence stretches again, but this time, it feels different. It feels like there’s something more, something unsaid, lingering.

Remus shifts just slightly closer, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for permission—permission to close the gap between you, to bridge the distance that’s always seemed too wide to cross. And then, without quite thinking, you step forward.

The movement is slow, hesitant, but the moment you’re within arm’s reach, he exhales, his body language softening. His hands, still nervously fumbling, stop, and he takes a breath like he’s steeling himself for something. The space between you is still charged, and yet, when he finally closes the gap with a cautious, but warm embrace, you freeze for a brief moment, before the weight of everything else settles in.

His arms wrap around you gently, carefully, like he’s worried you might break if he holds you too tightly. You stand there, unsure of everything, but something deep inside you tells you this feels right—his touch, the quiet connection between you both.

For a moment, you don’t speak. You don’t need to. It’s enough just to be there, together in this moment. You let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” Remus whispers into your hair, his voice barely audible.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his presence fill the spaces where doubt and fear once lingered. And despite the ache in your chest, despite the confusion and the fear of what this might mean, you find yourself clinging to the moment. It’s not perfect. Nothing ever is. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper back, your voice barely more than a breath. “It’s okay.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

let me know what you think of this! <3 i appreciate all feedback

[parfaitblogs]

false god ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer (literally) cannot wait to show you how pretty he thinks you are tonight. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: established relationship. public stuff. fingering. the team is there. readers wearing a skirt. he looooves you. they're at a bar. kinda soft dom!spence but like only if you squint. i have never posted smut before if im missing tags tell meee word count: 1.9k a/n: biting the bullet. posting smut (shudders). i have a singular roman empire and it is spencer reid plus fingering. i think about it sooo often. i do not think he would be the type to actually do this in public so yes it is self indulgent yes u can all call me crazy!! idgaf!!! i feel like the pacing in this is kinda weird pls forgive i never write smut :< if it's bad don't tell me let me be blissfully ignorant thank YEW!!

You were pretty sure there was something wrong with him (Spencer Reid). Something fundamentally broken in his brain, because he had not said a word to you that made sense from the second he picked you up from your apartment that evening. 

A lot of 'mhm's' and 'yeah's', which from maybe any other man would be normal, was not from him. He didn't speak incredibly eloquently, per se. But he did always respond to you in sentences. He liked to talk, so this lack of it was concerning you. 

He was seated next to you, in the booth Penelope Garcia had scouted out the second she stepped foot into the bar you were all meeting at. It was supposed to be a simple evening. Some drinks, some talking, winding down after the awful case you had just come back from. Spencer's lack of talking had you feeling anything but (simple). 

"Are you okay?" you had asked him when half the team stood up to go purchase the second round of drinks for everyone, and he wordlessly nodded his head, staring at the glass of water on the table in front of him, condensation sweating down to the wood. 

He wasn't. But there was only so much you could do for him when he was shutting down, especially in a public setting, so you nodded your own head, and settled into conversation with JJ instead. 

His hand found your thigh at some point during the conversation, and while you had flinched at its first contact, you didn't think much of it — he was never one for huge displays of affection, but he loved having his hands on you. An act as simple as a hand on your back had you swooning now, because you knew in his mind, he was thinking everything there was to possibly think about you. 

What you did think much of, was the way it crept higher as the team returned with drinks, and the noise from your booth got louder as conversations clashed with each other. 

Your head turned to the side, eyebrows furrowing, but he was still staring at his half-drank glass of water, with no real expression on his face. Frustratingly so.

He was never cruel, you learned. It was why his next action didn't occur until you had finished your sentence to JJ, as if to prevent what would've been your vocal chords tightening and lifting the octave of your voice as you spoke. 

It was such a featherlike touch it was hardly there, and you probably wouldn't have noticed it if he didn't do it again. And again. And again. One of his fingers brushing delicately over the centre of your underwear in a quick swiping motion, that had your head snapping to the side, meeting his jawline and his unwavering gaze with his glass of water. 

"Spencer," you muttered, and it was only then did he tilt his head down to look at you, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

His hand wrapped around the side of your inner thigh and tugged you across the seat, closer to him, his head ducking down to speak. 

"You're really pretty," he murmured, and your eyebrows only furrowed further at that.

"Thank you," you decided to say. "But what are you doing?"

"I just wanna touch you. Is that okay?"

You were silent for a moment. Maybe a moment too long, because he was already pulling his hand off your thigh, nodding his head.

"I mean, yes," you quickly say, catching his wrist before it could stray too far. "I was just confused where this was coming from."

"I really like the skirt," he explained, and your lips parted and an amused huff of air left them. Of course.

"Me too."

"Need you to wear it more often," he then said, his hand finding its way back between your thighs. "Please?"

"Maybe," you said, because it was all you could say, considering he was moving things along a little bit faster now that you had consented (not that you think you would've denied it). 

His ministrations were small enough that you could keep your voice steady as you kept conversation going with JJ, but firm enough that you squirmed every thirty seconds. He, on the other hand, was acting as though he was doing nothing to you, engaged in a conversation about the origins of pasta, with David Rossi. 

"I mean, in Greek mythology, it suggests that the Greek god Vulcan invented a device that made strings of dough. Which could be classified as the first spaghetti," he said, and at the same time, his fingers slipped beneath your underwear, brushing over your embarrassingly wet folds. 

You watched him stiffen, only because you had killed your conversation with JJ with one too many 'uh-huh's', and his jaw locked.

You were merely observant as he circled your clit a few times, until you were picking up your drink and forcing yourself to sip on it in order to keep your mouth busy — instead of releasing a moan that you really didn't want the team to hear. 

His gaze flicked to you for only half a second, and you met his eyes with an embarrassingly desperate look, and he laughed, oh so quietly, before a finger slipped into you. 

It was so gentle you thought you would go insane, and he rested the finger there for a few seconds as he responded to an argument Rossi had made about the Italian's inventing bolognese or whatever. You weren't really listening. 

The internal war you were dealing with; a pool of fiery butterflies in your stomach and the constant screaming to stay quiet in your brain was a stark contrast to Spencer's relaxed state. Because he had lazily began to move his finger like it was Sunday morning and he was easing you awake, and not in the middle of a Virginia bar with conversations amongst the team happening around you. 

You hated him for that.

Your hips squirmed when he crooked his finger, and your free hand bolted to his wrist, holding his hand still just before he could do it again, and elicit a sound from you.

The second Rossi had become immersed in something Morgan had said, Spencer's gaze was returning to you, an amused smile stretched across his lips. 

"You okay, honey?" he murmured, ducking his face down to kiss your cheek, heat blossoming on the spot. 

"I am trying so hard not to make a noise," you said, and he smiled, and you could feel it against your skin, wonderfully so.

"And you're doing an excellent job of it."

"You know, if you just took me to the bathroom..." you trailed off, eyes flickering up to him. 

"Not happening. Do you know how many germs are in public bathrooms?"

"Probably as many as the seat you're currently fingering me on," you hissed, voice hushed. 

At that, he pushed the heel of his hand against your clit, and you choked out a mewl. 

"I can stop," he said, though it didn't come out as a warning. You knew he only offered it because he would get the reaction of you violently shaking your head. "Right. No bathroom."

"No bathroom," you agreed with a flip of your stomach. 

His attention was captured by a conversation again, and with it, his finger began moving again. He was moving it with such an expertise that if this was any other situation you'd be impressed. Unfortunately, you were a little preoccupied with trying not to make a sound to appreciate how well he knew your body. 

Lazy pumps of his finger had you reeling and he was hardly doing anything, which was definitely going to be embarrassing to think about later on when he brings this up. Like you knew he would. 

Your A+ streak of making no noise was interrupted — quite rudely — by him slipping another finger in, the uncomfortable stretch that only lasted a second eliciting a whimper you couldn't keep to yourself. His eyebrows shot up and you were thankful Rossi had not been looking at him when his gaze rested on you again, and that the music in the bar was loud enough to drown out the sound to anyone who wasn't listening for it. 

"Too much?" he asked, but the second you felt him slowly pulling that second finger back, you were shaking your head, nails digging into the wrist that you still had captured. 

"No. It's not. Promise."

He smiled, and wordlessly nodded his head as he allowed the finger to straighten inside of you. Then, he moved them in and out of you a few times, achingly slowly. 

"Spencer," you breathed out, frustrated. 

"Yes, angel?"

"Can you please... just... go faster," you bit out, heat flushing your cheeks. Again.

"That would make it obvious," he answered, and you let out a huff of air. You knew he was right. "But," he added, upon detecting your annoyance. "I can do this."

He was once again proving how well he knew your body, because his thumb so easily found your clit, and circled it in a way that shot sparks up through your body.

"Yes you can," you agreed, nodding your head eagerly, and he breathed out a chuckle.

It seemed to be a lot easier to do that fast enough and hide what he was doing to you at the same time, because his fingers bent upwards at the same time he flicked his thumb over your clit, and whatever self-control you thought you had was swindled.

Your teeth bit down on the disintegrating paper straw, just to stop the moan that caught in the base of your throat from leaving it, and at that, he did it again. 

Spencer Reid was good at a lot of things. Making you come from the lightest of touches seemed to be joining that long list. Your head buried itself into the forearm of the hand that was touching you, at the same time he used it to push your hips back into the seat when they had begun to lift upwards. 

"You're making it obvious," he said to you, and what you're sure would've been a wonderfully eloquent argument died in your throat when he flicked your clit again. 

"I can't," you managed to get out, shaking your head as your fingers dug perhaps a little too hard into his wrist. 

"No?" he mused, though didn't stop his movements. You shook your head. He smiled. "So you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Mm, you're conflicting yourself, angel," he said, and you groaned for more than just how he was making you feel because you knew that. 

You bit down on his arm through his shirt to silence another moan when he pushed his fingers in a little harder than before, and if it hurt, he didn't say anything. You decided it must not have, because he repeated that movement. 

You were fighting against the need to squirm as your stomach tightened. And he must've figured out what was happening, because he masked your incandescent need to moan by using his opposite hand to entangle within your hair, bringing your face into his chest, acting as a hug to anyone who could see you. 

"There you go," he murmured, awfully gently, in your ear, as your walls fluttered around his fingers. 

You weren't sure if you were imagining your hips jerking until he was slipping his fingers out of you and pushing them down into the seat again.

He wiped his fingers against his pants, and your lips parted, eyes staring at him, dumbfounded. 

"What?" 

You shook your head, regaining a little self control as you settled down. "Nothing. I'm wearing this skirt again, though."

"Good."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[4klovver]

Streaming ꩜ Hamzah x Reader

When Hamzah is on stream he accidentally shows stream something he shouldn’t...

“Yea, bananasummer will be coming back soon. Watch out,” Hamzah responds to someone in his chat while streaming. What was supposed  to be a Fortnite stream turned into a talking stream replying to comments and answering questions on upcoming and old videos. 

He starts reading the chat, searching for more things to talk about. He eventually finds one to read, clicking on it to make it bigger. “Do you like being outdoors? You seemed like you knew what you were doing in the camping video,” he reads it slowly, squinting slightly. 

“Well, I actually used to be a Boy Scout, but I don’t really like the outdoors. More of an inside guy now,” he says. He knew you were going to be home soon, so maybe he would log off in a bit. 

“Yea, guys, I’ll respond to a few more questions. Then I think I’ll log off,” just as he says this, messages flood the chat with pleas for him to stay. 

He finds another he wants to read through the chaos of the chat. “It’s about 4 a.m. on a Monday here in New Zealand. What time is it in Canada?” He reads this as his eyes widen. 

“Woah, you’re up way too early for this stream. Here in Canada, it’s still Sunday!” He goes to fish for his phone, trying to find the time. “Yea, it’s about 10 a.m. here too,”

he says, showing his phone screen to the camera, showing off the time. What he didn’t remember was his wallpaper. His wallpaper was a photo of you, as you describe it, “disheveled”. It was after a long day of traveling, and you totally crashed on one of the benches in the airport. Your hair was a mess, you hadn’t slept in 2 days, but Hamzah swears you look cute in it. 

He quickly takes his phone away from the screen once he sees the chat going crazy. “Omg you guys weren’t supposed to see that. Y/n’s gonna kill me,” he says. Just when the situation couldn’t get any worse, he hears his door open. 

“Why am I gonna kill you?” You walk over to him, smiling after a long day of errands. “Oh, are you streaming? Hi, everyone,” you give the camera a small wave while looking at the chat. While you read the smile on your face, it drops slightly. 

“Hamzah, why is chat talking about your wallpaper?” He laughs a little bit, hoping he changed it or something. You look down at him in his chair; he’s not looking back at you, his eyes looking down at his keyboard. 

“I’m sorry!” He pleads, finally looking at you. You look at him, upset, and then back to the chat to confirm. 

“Hamzah!! I look terrible in that picture! I’m gonna kill you!” You turn and step out of frame, looking down at Hamzah, a now scared expression plastered on his face. 

“Okayguysimgonnagonow bye!” He said, mushed together and quickly ending the stream. 

a/n: Hope you enjoyed this is my first time writing somthing about Hamzah so i hope its good. Go look at me other stuff !! ok bye byebye

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i'm addicted to the ' if only '

♡ a/n — for a new childhood friends to lovers series :) a little shorter than i wanted but yk

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — sae itoshi x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends to lovers, sae and reader are the " sit by this quiet kid so they rub off on you " kids i fear, mentions of sae going to spain, starts when they're in 5th grade ( does japan do elementary grades like that? idk. ) and goes all the way to the U-20 game, wrote this at midnight so sorry if it's confusing

♡ synopsis — From the moment Sae Itoshi said he loved you, you were his. The long-distance relationship wasn’t easy, but it didn’t matter. You had Sae, and that was enough. He was all you needed after all.

You met Sae Itoshi when you were ten, in the fifth grade. You were the loud one, always raising your hand to answer questions, always running up to classmates to start games during recess. Sae, on the other hand, was quiet. His answers were sharp, direct, and to the point. He preferred to sit at the edge of the classroom, observing rather than participating.

When the teacher paired the two of you together for a science project, you knew immediately that this was going to be difficult.

"Can’t you just sit still for five minutes?" Sae asked, an exasperated edge to his voice as you twirled around with the sheet of paper that was supposed to outline your project plan.

"Nope!" you said with a grin. "Sitting still is boring."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re impossible."

You should’ve hated him. He made it clear he found you irritating, and you had no interest in someone who acted like they were better than everyone else. But there was something about Sae that intrigued you—maybe it was the calmness that always seemed to settle around him, or the way he never tried to impress anyone.

To your surprise, by the time the project ended, he hadn’t abandoned you. Instead, he’d begrudgingly started helping you organize your thoughts, muttering under his breath every time you got distracted but staying by your side nonetheless.

Halfway through the school year, he stopped rolling his eyes when you dragged him outside to play soccer after school.

By the end of the year, you were spending every recess together. You teased him endlessly, calling him your best friend, even though he would only shrug in response.

But he never corrected you.

It wasn’t until you were twelve that you realized how much Sae had become a part of your life.

He wasn’t just your best friend—he was your favorite person. He was there for everything, from the boring group projects to the secret candy stash you shared during recess. He wasn’t just the quiet boy in the corner anymore. He was Sae, the person who made your days brighter without even trying.

One day, when you were both at the park, it hit you.

He was practicing soccer, as always. The golden light of the setting sun bathed his figure, making him look almost ethereal. He didn’t notice the way you were staring, too focused on juggling the ball with practiced ease.

You didn’t understand it then, but something inside you shifted. You found yourself watching him more closely, noticing the way his expression softened when he talked about soccer, the way he always let you have the last piece of candy, even though he’d complain about it afterward.

You liked him.

The realization was terrifying, but you pushed it down. Sae was your best friend, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

When Sae told you he’d been scouted to train in Spain, you didn’t know how to react.

You were happy for him—of course you were. Soccer was his dream, and this was everything he had ever wanted. But as you stood in the airport, watching him get ready to board his flight, all you could think about was how much you were going to miss him.

"Don’t cry," he said, his voice steady. He stood in front of you, his suitcase at his side, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked so calm, so sure of himself, that it almost made you angry.

"I’m not crying," you lied, blinking furiously.

Sae’s gaze softened, just for a moment. "You’ll be fine without me," he said. "You always are."

But you weren’t.

High school was different without Sae.

The loud, hyper child you used to be was gone, replaced by someone quieter, someone who didn’t raise their hand as much in class or run around during lunch breaks. The hole Sae left behind was too big to fill, and you didn’t know how to be yourself without him by your side.

But at night, when your phone buzzed with his Facetime calls, everything felt okay again.

When you were fifteen, one of those calls changed everything.

You were sitting on your bed, rambling about your day, filling the silence with every little detail you could think of. Sae’s face on the screen was calm, as always, but there was something different about his expression.

"I love you," he said suddenly, cutting you off mid-sentence.

Your heart stopped.

"What?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I love you," he repeated, his tone steady, like he had been waiting to say it for a long time. "I’ve loved you for a while."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "I love you too," you said, your voice trembling.

From that moment on, you were his. The long-distance relationship wasn’t easy, but it didn’t matter. You had Sae, and that was enough.

When you were seventeen, everything started to fall apart.

Sae’s texts became shorter, his calls less frequent. You told yourself it was because he was busy—Spain was demanding, and soccer always came first for him. But the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

One night, he called you.

You were so excited to hear from him that you didn’t notice the tension in his voice. You launched into your day, telling him about school, your friends, everything he had missed. He stayed silent until you finally asked, "Sae? Are you still there?"

"I’m here," he said. His tone was cold, unfamiliar. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Your stomach twisted. "What is it?"

"You’re a bother," he said, his voice flat. "We should break up."

The words didn’t register at first.

"What?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "Sae, what are you talking about?"

"You’re holding me back," he said, his tone as sharp as a blade. "I don’t have time for this anymore."

And just like that, the boy you'd grown to love - your best friend - was gone.

A year later, Sae returned to Japan for the U-20 vs. Blue Lock match.

You hadn’t heard from him since the breakup. Not a single text, not a single call. But even after everything, you couldn’t help but hope. He was still your best friend… right?

You looked for him everywhere—in the streets you used to walk together, in the soccer fields where he used to practice. But he was never there.

The night of the game, you sat alone in your room, watching him on the TV.

He was brilliant. Every move, every goal, was flawless. The Sae on the screen was a stranger, a far cry from the boy who used to roll his eyes at your jokes and share his candy with you.

It doesn’t feel right, you thought, not knowing the Sae that’s out there, shining so brightly.

And maybe, you realized, you never would.

no one said all of these had to be happy. childhood best friends to lovers to strangers anyone ?

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[jaikoyaki]

One more chance.

//kim minji x reader//Street racing AU// Oneshot //

— Tied her down to my Queen bed. Tease her just enough to hate me.

SYPNOSIS ❯❯❯❯ Rivals, exes, idiots with fast cars. you race, you fight, you kiss—sometimes not in that order. tonight’s supposed to settle the score. but when has that ever gone to plan?

WARNINGS ❯❯❯❯ Suggestive jokes/themes, Explicit Language, gayness

TAGS ❯❯❯❯ Street Racing AU, Enemies/exes to something, Fluff, Mutual Pining, teeny tiny angst, Underground Racing Culture, FEM!READER

WC ❯❯❯❯ 3.3K

A/N ❯❯❯❯ Bro. Why do all my writing sprees start at 1am. like thats my peak freak hour. I nearly titled this “fast & freaky” 😿🙏 and every time I reread it in the morning I cringe so bad oml. Also fuck tumblr i got this accidentally posted this twice

Minji looks stupid good under neon.

Always has, always will.

She’s got on this oversized firetruck red windbreaker, slung off one shoulder, and a navy cap pulled low so the bold “P” hides her eyes. Not that it matters. You know that look. You’ve memorized it. 

Her little crew is wrapped around her like she’s royalty but you know better.

She never needed an entourage.

She had you.

Once, you were the one by her side. Closer than any of them.

Now you’re across the lot, gripping the wheel like it’s her hand and praying your engine doesn’t stall the second she glances your way again.

You’re parked right at the edge of the strip—an old shipping yard they turned into a half-legal racetrack, lit only by flickering floodlights and the glow of brake lights. Smoke curls into the sky from burnt-out tires. The air’s thick with gas, sweat, and something else you won’t name.

People are everywhere, perched on hoods, crowding around the starting line, drinks in hand, phones out. Some are here to race, most are just here to watch.

“YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!”

 The host’s voice crackles through the busted PA system, slicing through bass and bad decisions.

“Another night, another round of racing! Don’t cry when your bets flop! And don’t cry too hard when your car eats shit on the last corner!”

The crowd whoops. Somewhere behind you, someone lets off a firecracker.

You roll your eyes and lean back against your car, arms crossed over your chest.

“He’s getting more dramatic every time,” you mutter.

“Yeah,” Ryujin replies, slipping beside you, “but he’s right. Bet money’s gonna get ugly tonight.”

You shoot her a look. “You betting against me now?”

She snorts. “Please. I like my money where I can count it.”

 Then she elbows you. “You know Minji’s crew showed up an hour early just to scout the track?”

Your gaze flicks across the lot. Minji’s still there—right where you left her in your rearview mirror.

“Guess she’s worried.”

“Or,” Ryujin says, nudging your shoulder, “..she’s just taking it seriously. Word is a sponsor specifically requested this race.”

“What race?”

She deadpans. “The one you’re in. With her.”

You blink. “Huh..?”

Ryujin stares at you. “Did you not read the group chat?”

You definitely did not.

“Some hotshot sponsor asked for you two specifically. Said it’d draw a crowd.”

You frown. “Why? We always end up tying anyway.”

“Exactly,” she grins, “they eat that shit up. Everyone wants to see who’ll finally win.”

You sigh, turning your attention to the starting line where two cars rev. Another crew-versus-crew race about to start. One of the drivers signals to the crowd, standing half-out the window, hyping them up. His engine is loud like it's got something to prove. The other car flashes its headlights in response.

“Ten seconds!” the host calls out, voice echoing off rusted metal and sweat-slick concrete. A girl in fishnets raises her arms at the starting line, bandana fluttering from one wrist like a flag.

You and Ryujin watch in silence.

"That one’s from Jeno’s crew,” She murmurs, nodding toward the black Supra with matte decals. “He’s fast, but he always oversteers on turns. Cocky.”

You hum, eyes locked on the track.

The girl drops her arms.

Engines scream, tires screech, and the two cars launch forward like rockets.

The crowd erupts as they rip down the makeshift strip.

They drift the last corner hard, one nearly clipping the sidewall. It's messy, but it earns a cheer.

“Messy,” you mutter. “But ballsy.”

“Mhm,” Ryujin agrees. “Still won’t beat you, though.”

You flash her a small smile. But it fades the second you glance back across the lot—

Minji’s not in her spot anymore.

She’s moved closer to the track, standing just behind the barrier, closer than she needs to be.

And closer to you.

You spot her through the smoke just as another set of tires scream across the finish. She’s got that look on again—the one that says she’s thinking three steps ahead.

Well, fine. So are you.

You push off your car and stroll over, hands deep in your pockets, the smirk already forming.

“You finally come to get a better look?” you ask, stopping just a little too close. Like, you-can-smell-her-perfume close.

Minji doesn’t flinch. “Just wanted to see what kind of excuse your crew’s gonna spit out when you choke again.”

“Cute,” you grin. “You sound nervous.”

Her eyes slide to yours. “You wish.”

You laugh under your breath. “You always talk more when you're trying not to feel something.”

The parking lot was empty, save for the two of you and the occasional buzz of a streetlamp overhead.

“You should probably ease off throttle in that second turn. If the back end slips, counter-steering alone won’t be enough, you’ll need—” She paused, catching herself mid-ramble.

You raised an eyebrow, looking over. “Min.”

“What?”

“You’re overthinking again.”

Minji sighed, low and annoyed, more at herself than you. “I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You nervous?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the dark stretch of road beyond the lot, and her voice, when it came, was tight. “It’s not nerves. I just... like to be prepared.”

You nudged her with your shoulder. “And I know when you’re lying.”

She glanced at you, and for a second, something softened in her expression—like she wanted to admit it, to just let it out. But then the wall came back up. She took another sip of her drink, voice casual again. “Then stop asking dumb questions.”

You smiled. “You don’t have to be scared of losing.”

“I’m not,” she said, too fast.

And that was all the confirmation you needed.

Her jaw ticks, just barely.

Bullseye.

“I talk more when I’m bored,” she fires back, deadpan. “And you’re a slow burn.”

You tilt your head, lips twitching. “Funny. You weren’t bored last time you were in my backseat.”

Her jaw tightens.

“Oh—we’re still pretending that didn’t happen?” you say, sweetly venomous. “Should I shut up before your crew hears how loud you were?”

Minji’s team starts glancing around awkwardly. Yours is already watching like this is the undercard fight before the main event.

“And here I thought red was your lucky color,” you muse, eyeing the way it clings to her. “Still looks better crumpled up on my floor.”

That does it.

She spins on her heel and stalks back to her side without saying a word.

You watch her go, a smug little curl tugging at your lips.

She’s rattled.

Exactly where you want her.

–

Minji stalks back to her side of the lot. The crowd’s still buzzing, cheers, engines, someone yelling about lost bets—but she doesn’t hear any of it.

Her head’s still full of you.

Of the way your voice dropped, just enough to make her pulse beat faster. The stupid smirk you wore like it was your default face. God, it’s like you know exactly which buttons to push, and worse, you do it on purpose.

She’s halfway to her crew’s car when Hanni materializes beside her.

“She’s so annoying,” Minji mutters, yanking off her gloves one finger at a time like they personally offended her.

“And hot,” Hanni chimes in like she’s checking off a list. “Annoying and hot. The deadliest combo.”

Minji shoots her a look.

“What?” Hanni shrugs, hands buried in her hoodie pockets. “You keep racing her. That can’t just be about pride. Either you’re trying to prove something to her, or you’re hoping she rear-ends you and calls it foreplay.”

Minji glares. “Hanni.”

“I’m just saying, man.” Hanni says, all innocent. “You get weird when she’s around. Stiff. Clenchy. Very Batman-core.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Hanni cuts in. “You were flirting and fighting at the same time. Flirting-with-enemies-to-lovers pipeline speedrun.”

Minji scowls, dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s not—she’s just… distracting.”

Hanni grins. “Awww. She gets under your skin. That’s sooo gay of you.”

Minji doesn’t respond. She doesn’t have to. Her silence says enough, especially when her eyes flick back toward the track. Toward where you’re standing.

She still remembers the last time you two raced. The tie. The after. The stupid, breathless laugh you gave her in the dark when you said, “Bet you let me win.” As if she didn’t push her engine harder than she ever had that night just to keep up.

—

Fifteen minutes later, the host’s voice crackles to life again, loud and electric.

“ALRIIIIIGHT! We’ve got a special matchup tonight, folks—one straight outta hell!”

The crowd roars in anticipation.

“Back by very popular demand—Minji of the NJZ Crew, and Y/N from the 88s! You know ’em. You love ’em. You fear what’s gonna happen if one of them actually wins this time!”

People scream. Cameras flash. Phones are up, recording, live-streaming.

Bets are flying, shouted across the space like war shouts. You even hear someone yell “Fifty grand on the 88s!” over the din.

You step toward the line, helmet swinging from your fingers, engine still humming behind you.

Minji’s already there, leaning against her MR2 like she's posing for a photo. Her windbreaker gone, now tied loose around her waist. She’s in a fitted white tank stamped with I ❤️ ME, Her track pants sit low, hips tilted just so— and okay—

You almost hate how good she looks.

Almost.

She glances at you as you approach, then back to her car, jaw tight.

No words?

You grin.

“What? Not even a ‘good luck’? I thought you were a gracious loser, Min.”

She doesn’t flinch. Just shifts her weight and leans into the door of her car, lips curling into the faintest smirk.

“I was just thinking…” she says, voice slow and deliberate, “how nice your car would look with my initials keyed into the hood.”

You blink. Your cocky grin falters for a second—just a second. Long enough for her to catch it.

She saw.

You recover quick, letting out a short laugh. “Dream big.”

She opens her door but pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “It’s cute when you pretend you’re not nervous,” she says, voice pitched lower now. Just for you. “But I’ve seen the way your hands shake after a close race. You still get that adrenaline high?”

Your jaw clenches.

“Why, you offering to help me wind down after?”

She looks at you then. Really looks. Her eyes drag down your figure like she’s memorizing you.

“Only if you win,” she murmurs. “But we both know you won’t.”

You recover fast—ish. Coughing once. twice. Covering your smile with your hand. Okay. She wants to play like that now?

“You always flirt when you’re desperate?” you ask, trying to steady your voice. It almost works.

Minji raises a brow, eyes gleaming. “Desperate?” She steps closer. “L/N, if I wanted to rattle you, I wouldn’t be using words.”

You open your mouth—ready to snap back, or maybe choke—but the host’s voice cracks through the moment.

You blink.

Wait.

You were supposed to rattle her.

-

"Let’s make it spicy tonight, shall we?” the host’s voice booms over the speakers, dramatic. "Winner takes ten grand from our very generous sponsor and... who knows—might just walk away with a real racing contract. That’s right, our mystery backer’s in the lot tonight, hunting for the next underground icon. Think of it as your shot at going pro.”

Racing contract.

cheers and gasps ripple through the crowd. 

That’s new.

That’s everything you’ve ever wanted

Your heart stutters.

You glance at Minji. Her expression doesn’t change, but you notice how her fingers tighten on the wheel, the knuckles turning white.

“And hey,” the host adds, clearly having the time of his life, “loser’s still the winner’s bitch for the night!”

The crowd explodes.

You smirk behind the glass of your helmet as you finally slide it on, slow and deliberate. Your hands find the wheel like they belong there.

Minji’s already seated, belt clipped, gaze straight ahead.

No more talking.

But you don’t need words to know what she’s thinking.

She wants this.

Bad.

Just like you.

The girl from earlier steps back onto the track, arms raised, bandana whipping in the wind.

Red.

Your foot taps the gas once—just enough to feel the purr of your engine under your heel.

Yellow.

Minji’s MR2 booms beside you, low and steady.

You glance once at her, just once, through the smoke and heat.

She’s already looking at you.

And she smiles.

Green.

The second the light turns green, you’re off.

Rubber shrieks against pavement as your tires fight for grip. The force slams you into your seat.

Minji’s MR2 launches beside you, her shift smooth, timing perfect. She’s done this a hundred times. Maybe a thousand.

She’s right there—mirror to mirror, heartbeat to heartbeat. You can feel her, even through the roar.

She's not holding back. Not tonight.

Streetlights flicker overhead, throwing shadows across the cracked asphalt.

You take the first bend a little too tight—there’s a trash bin sitting half in the road.

You overcorrect, swerve slightly, tires skimming the edge of the curb.

Don’t oversteer. She’ll never let you live it down.

Minji doesn’t flinch.

She sees your mistake and takes advantage, cutting inside and passing you cleanly.

Her MR2 hugs the turn perfectly, tires whispering instead of screaming.

Typical.

You spot an opening: a tight, flooded alley shortcut that most wouldn’t risk. You remember it from scouting earlier, but you hadn’t planned to use it. It’s too unpredictable. Still, you dive in.

Water splashes up the side of your car, and for a moment, the whole chassis shudders.

You're hydroplaning—

Breathe. Don’t panic. Catch it.

You do. Barely.

When you burst out the other side, you’re ahead.

Final lap.

Now it’s you she’s chasing.

The road curves into a long sweeping turn, then tightens into a brutal S-curve right before the finish.

You keep your line tight, eyes flicking between the mirrors and the road.

She’s gaining on you again. She knows this part too well.

She’s not even forcing her car just waiting for you to mess up again.

But then—

Halfway through the lap, right before the last turn, something goes wrong.

Minji’s car stutters.

You don’t stop. Can’t. Not now.

You tear across the finish line a second later.

You win.

The crowd erupts. Fireworks explode somewhere off in the distance, a streak of color lighting up the night sky. Your name’s being screamed, shouted, echoed all around you. Someone grabs your arm—probably Ryujin, lifting it high into the air. You barely hear them. You barely hear anything, honestly.

Minji’s out of her car by the time you circle back. She gives you a stiff nod, lips pressed thin like she’s biting something back.

“Congrats,” she says.

You want to say something—Thank you? Did I? Are you okay? Was that real?—but she’s already walking off, disappearing into the crowd before anyone can stop her.

And maybe the crowd’s still celebrating, but all you can think about is her jaw. Clenched. Her fists. Shoved too deep in her pockets. The way her eyes didn’t meet yours long enough to say what she really felt.

She’s pissed.

You know her.

All too well.

-

Later, when the chaos has faded, you find yourself steering your car toward the place you’re 99% sure she went.

An old lot, tucked behind an abandoned strip mall. No lights. No noise. Just the faint hum of a playlist she always swore helped her “focus,” even though half of it was just twice songs and alt-pop breakup songs.

Sure enough, her MR2’s there.

Hood popped. Headlights dimmed.

Minji stands with her back to you, sleeves rolled up, frowning at the mess under the hood like she’s trying to will it back to life.

You park a few spaces down and walk over.

“I thought I told you to replace the starter,” you say casually, eyeing the cables.

She jumps. Just a little.

“You stalking me now?” she says, not looking up.

“No,” you lie. “Just figured I’d find you sulking somewhere.”

“...Not sulking,” she mutters. “Just...processing.”

“Uh huh.”

You step closer. The smell of smoke and hot metal lingers in the air. You glance at the engine, then at her hands. She’s holding the wrench wrong.

You sigh. “You’re gonna strip the bolt like that.”

“I know how to fix my car,” she snaps.

You hold up your hands. “Didn’t say you didn’t. Just offering.”

She hesitates.

Then, quietly so quietly “...Fine.”

You take the wrench from her. Your fingers brush. She tenses.

And suddenly, it’s just the two of you again. Just like it used to be. Two grease-stained idiots under the hood, arguing about torque specs and spark plugs.

“Still a little dramatic,” you mutter, tightening a bolt.

“Says the girl who revved so loud the crowd thought a jet was landing.”

You glance at her sideways. “Eh. Admit it. You missed this.”

She scoffs. “You wish.”

You grin. “You let me win.”

That gets her. Her face twitches.

“No, I didn’t,” she says, but you catch it. That tiny, guilty shift in her eyes.

You step in closer, wiping your hands on your jeans.

“You knew how much I wanted that contract,” you say, voice quieter now. “It’s all I ever talked about.”

Her jaw tightens, and her eyes don't meet yours. She’s thinking—really thinking, like she always does when she doesn’t know how to feel.

You remember those late-night conversations, way before any of this. When it was just you two, talking about your futures under the glow of her dads garage lights. You used to tell her about your big dream of making it as a real racer. You said it like it was just some offhand joke, but she saw it. She always did. The way your eyes lit up when you said it. She knew.

And then, in the present, as the host’s words echoed in the back of her mind, she saw your eyes shine when they mentioned the contract. You were ready to take it, to take that chance, and she let you.

“Min,” you say, softer, “your car was fine five minutes before the race.”

She still doesn’t speak. Just looks away. Jaw tight.

Her lips tremble slightly, but she stays quiet. Always holding back. Always too in control. But not tonight.

You step in closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Close enough to see the way her fists twitch like she’s holding back from either hitting you or grabbing you.

You don’t say anything else.

You just wait.

And maybe that’s what breaks her.

Because a second later, she moves.

No warning—just a sharp inhale, and then she’s on you. Arms locking around your shoulders, body crashing into yours like she’s trying to shove all the distance out of the way. She hugs you hard. Desperate. Her breath hits your neck hot and ragged, and you feel the tension in her spine like a livewire.

Her grip’s bruising. Her nails dig into your back like she wants to hurt you for making her care this much. But you don’t let go.

You never could.

She buries her face into the curve of your neck, and the exhale she lets out sounds like a surrender as her hands slide down your sides, fingers pressing into your waist with a force that leaves no room for escape. Her lips graze your skin when she speaks, sounding shaky and too honest.

“I missed you,” she mutters, and god—it’s not fair, the way your heart jumps like you haven’t heard her lie a hundred times before.

Rivals, sure. Exes, yeah. But damn—her hands still remember the shape of your waist better than her steering wheel.

MINJI IN RED LIKE😻😻😜😜 RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

taglist: @arihiu @fruityg0rl @keiji-jin @strangercat @yjiminswallet @hazel-tanthamore22 @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @gtfoiydlyj @Mj.Db @gtfoiydlyjm @somedaydream @peranoo @syronns @angiisss @Drvirgus @aloneinacity @nnewjeansstuff @imsogay504 @sh1ba100 @tashasmywife

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

ANYTHINGGG WITH LEVI PLEASE, annnnd I'd love for reader to be taller thannn him and yet he still like manhandles her?

Like imagine they are both captains LMAOO and they are always at each others throats because they can't stand each other but everyone else knows they just wanna fuck LMAOO

THANKSSSSS IN ADVANCE CINNA, UR THE BEST

Fuck her 'til her legs both twitch

Tags: dom!Levi x fem!Reader, enemies to lovers, secretive mutual pining, nsfw, smut, bondage, dirty talk, I can’t express this enough… they’re going to FUCK, mdni

An: Nepobabyy! I’m always happy to see a fic request from you because you and I have very similar tastes in men 🤤

For the record, this was NOT suppose to be happening.

You were supposed to be in bed: asleep. You weren’t even suppose to be awake. These were the only few hours that Levi gets to spend in total peace and quiet.

Levi was sitting in the small dining area of the cottage that he, you, and Hange share as leaders of the Survey Corps. The early hours of the morning was the only time that it was peaceful in this house. That's because you and Hange are usually still asleep at this hour unless there's a bit outing planned. The dining area was dimly lit by a small gas lantern that was sat upon the kitchen table, and Levi was reading a book until you came inside.

His narrow eyes flickered up to your frame as you haphazardly stumbled towards the counter. Levi couldn't tell if you were even fully awake or not. He didn't care though — not one bit. His eyes returned to his book as he took note of your messy hair and pretty skin being softly illuminated by the glow of the lantern. He didn't care though. He just happened to notice these things about you. He's observant.

You were absolutely the last person he wanted to see at four in the morning.

You and Levi were like oil and water. You two just didn't mix very well even though you're both captains over the survey corps. Some would compare you two to the sun and the moon, but it was more like you and Levi were two sides of the same coin.

Levi was a man of principle, rules, and boundaries. He lived his life to a strict, tidy schedule, and he strived to make others also adhere to his standard of living.

You were more like chaos. While you weren't necessarily messy or disorganized, you were more spontaneous - living by the seat of your pants constantly.

Levi loathed your methods, and he made it abruptly clear each time he could. As it happens, today he may have went a bit too far with his criticisms.

You were giving a training pep talk to the scouts, talking about living in the moment and letting the adrenaline take it's natural course in your veins. It was a really good talk, until Levi spoke up from behind you.

"I wonder just how many cadets felt that same rush of adrenaline right before they died by a titan exploiting their weakness-" He went on about the necessity of control and utter focus, but you mentally checked out from the conversation.

It wasn't the worst thing he had ever said to you. You two had your fair share of back and forth arguments that usually ended in Hange yelling at you two to just fuck and get over it. But this stung worse than other snide comments. He had insinuated that your methods - your leadership had led people to their deaths.

When you silently walked away from the cadets, walking past Hange like they weren't even there, they stared at Levi with a 'say something' expression, but Levi wouldn't suppress his pride like that... not even if something deep within him reverberated throughout his body.

He hadn't seen you all day, but here you were: encroaching on his peace and quiet, and fuck, he detested the pouty look of sorrow on your face as you were searching for something on the counter.

Your hand finally found what it was searching for: the neck of a whine bottle. Alcohol was a commodity around this area, but Erwin had gifted it to you, Levi, and Hange one Christmas. He wrote a thoughtful note of his gratitude towards the three of you.

The bottle of wine had been practically untouched. Levi didn't drink at all — period. Hange didn't like wine, so that left you in charge of taking care of the bottle.

The cork parted from the bottle with a loud 'pop', and Levi cut his eyes back towards you. "A bit early to start drinking." He muttered lowly, taking the chance to speak to you when you were clearly upset about earlier.

"I wonder how many of your scouts died before they were old enough to drink." You turned towards him, eyeing him down with a look that he's never seen from you. This wasn't just petty anger — this was betrayal, hurt, and frustration.

Levi's finger hooked into the collar of his white button-up shirt, and he pulled it away from his neck as the tension in the room was already suffocating enough. "Say what you mean, or don't speak to me at all."

He knew he fucked up, but he wasn't going to allow you to fire back at him the same way. Unlike you, he didn't let feelings get in the way of his duties. He had it perfectly under control... if you ignored the way his heart was slamming against his ribcage. His stomach was screaming at him to just be a man and apologize, but his prideful brain hated that idea.

"You undermined me in front of the scouts, and frankly, what you said was in poor taste. I don't know what I ever did to you to make you hate my presence so much, but if you pull that shit again, I will not walk away silently again." You turned the wine bottle upwards, and the stout red liquid poured down your throat.

"Are you threatening me?" Levi asks, and he closes his book so he can face you squarely. His sharp facial features were only accentuated from the light cast from the lantern.

"Men. All you hear is the last part of what I said. You never focus on the real problem of it all." The bottle clanks against the counter harder than you intended, and Levi rises from his chair carefully. You scoff with a small sarcastic chuckle. You know that Levi's humanity's strongest soldier, but he's still smaller than you. You have a few inches of height and wingspan on him as the top of your head just barely clears his. Without his ODM gear and swords, he's just a short guy with an attitude problem.

"The problem is you act on pure impulse. You don't ever think your actions through. You're going to end up dead one day." His steps are cold and calculated as he approaches you, and he takes the cork from your hand, swiftly shoving it back into the bottle.

"You should be celebrating that considering how much you hate me." You whisper under your breath — not needing to speak any louder with his body so close to yours. Your faces are mere inches apart, and his hands are placed on the counter behind you, trapping you in.

"Dumbass." He chided lowly, and his eyes flickered to your lips briefly — just long enough for you to notice.

Suddenly, you feel your own heart pounding in your chest. Your stomach twists and constricts from nerves and the wine that was rapidly digesting. The cottage was so. damn. quiet. You could hear both yours and Levi's breaths — neither of you daring to move an inch.

"I don't want you dead." Levi finally adds bluntly. "I..." His words get caught in his throat, and he takes a deep breath to soothe his nerves. "You're right. I undermined you, and that wasn't okay."

Your expression softens as you gaze at him. He's trying. It isn't an apology, but he admitted he was wrong. "It wasn't..." You respond softly before leaning in a fraction of an inch.

Levi's eyes are glued to your lips as you speak, and he bites at the side of his cheek - wondering what you tasted like this early in the morning.

"It wasn't okay for you to threaten me either... Rather, it's not okay to assume so easily that you'd win." His head tilts ever so slightly to the side, and he leans in closer to your warmth.

You tongue instinctively delves out, wetting your lips as he's so damn close to you. The tension between you two was absolutely palpable. "You don't think I'd win?" You ask softly — only to provoke him a bit more.

"Don't be so stupid." His voice drops an octave lower, and his hands find the back of your thighs before effortlessly lifting you up and onto the counter.

You may be taller than Levi, but what he lacks in height, he makes up for in raw strength and speed.

He stands between your legs before leaning in even closer, causing for you to lean back — pressing your head against one of the cupboards. "I can throw you around without a second thought." He lowly boasts.

His hand reaches for the top of your head, and he guides your face downwards to his with a firm tug. "So, I'd advice you not to threaten me again, or else I'll show you why I am a captain."

Your nose is just barely brushing against his, and you feel like you're struggling to breath with his intense gaze on you. "Maybe I'd respect you more if you did."

"Insolent brat." He grits before tugging you into him closer. Your lips smash against his as his hand tightens around your hair, keeping you still as he pours every ounce of lust and longing into the kiss.

Your breath picks up in speed as you wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs wrap around his waist. Levi lets out a small muffled grunt, and he promptly lifts you off of the counter, carrying you as if you were nothing but a stuffed animal to him towards his room.

“Levi..” You whispered between messy panicked kisses.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, not bothering to part from them a for a second. He bumps his door shut with his hip before he walks to you to his bed, tossing you down onto the crisply folded sheets. His bed is made so meticulously. You wonder how long he spends on it each morning.

“This doesn’t seem like a fair fight.” You muse as you sit up, using your hands to prop up your body against his mattress.

A small barely noticeable smirk quirks up on Levi’s lips, and he stalks towards his bed. His hands are unbuttoning each of his shirt buttons one by one, slowly trailing down his muscular body.

“Well, you’re not even trying to fight back.” He replies in an almost humorous tone as he shrugs his shirt off of his shoulders. The piece of fabric falls to the ground.

“Oh? You want me to fight back?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow, and Levi inches closed to the bed that you unceremoniously splayed on.

“You can try.” He comments before you reach up to grab him and pull him down to you.

The two of you toss and turn, putting each other in different holds and presses. It’s honestly difficult to tell if you two are trying to fight or fuck. It’s probably a malgamation of both.

Except a clear answer is given when Levi is behind you, pinning you face down to his mattress with his hand pressed against your back. Your ass is turned upwards, rubbing against the seat of his pants perfectly.

“Such a brat. Making me work this damn hard for this.” He grunts lowly as he uses his free hand to undo his belt. He makes sure to keep you pinned while he slips the leather around your wrists, effectively binding your hands behind your back with his belt.

Your hips flutter upwards with a small sigh — presenting yourself to him as if you were in heat. Levi chuckles lowly at the sight, appreciating how needy you are for him after a bit of rough housing. He always suspected that you had a thing for liking it rough after many days of seeing your blushing face and trembling thighs while training.

“Filthy girl.” He mutters while giving your ass a firm spank. His hands then find the waistband of your pajama pants, and he tugs them down with ease before admiring your pretty pussy — still clothed by the thin material of your panties. He can see a small wet spot from your arousal already building.

“Levi..” You whimper into his pillow, pushing your hips back further towards him. You were tired of being tough and strong. You wanted needed to just give in to your most basic, primal desires.

“Shhh. I know.” He murmurs tenderly as his fingers graze against your dampening panties. “Let me fix it. I always do.” He carefully strokes your clothed pussy once more before he focuses his fingers against the small button of nerves, rubbing tight circles into your core.

“Ahh~” You let out a breathy whine, completely enthralled by the fact that you can’t move at all. You’re stuck complying with his whims because Levi can just maneuver you into whatever position he wants you in. He doesn’t give a fuck how much taller or bigger you think you are than him.

Your panties are swiftly pulled down as Levi doesn’t think he can live with the throbbing pain of his cock twitching in the confines of his pants and boxers. His eyes marvel at your glistening cunt — so pretty and wet, just for him.

His mouth salivated at the thought of getting a taste, but he’s in a frenzy when he looked at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly six in the morning, which is when Hange normally rolls out of bed. He really didn’t need them ruining this for him.

His hand shoves his pants down, exposing his all too heavy cock, and he takes this moment to jerk himself a few times to the beautiful sight he has in front of him.

You’re bent over, looking as complacent as ever with his belt tying your hands behind your back. You’re rendered completely useless, and even if you weren’t, you’re so needy for his cock that you can barely even function.

“Gods, fuck.. please.. please.” You whine and beg beneath him, tugging against your makeshift restraints as if to entice him more.

His co-captain is such a needy mess. He needed to fuck some sense into you.

“Yeah.. you want it?” He asks as he presses his sweltering tip against your drooling entrance. A hefty groan falls from his lips as he feels how fucking warm you are. It’s been far too fucking long for him. There’s no way he’s lasting long, especially not inside your divine pussy.

“W-want it.. yes, Levi.. Please I want it.” You shamelessly beg, even while you know it’ll be a tight squeeze, and fuck, it’s a damn near impossible squeeze.

Your toasty walls grip him like a vice as he bullied his way so deeply inside of you, forcing his eyes to roll back into his head as he let out quiet grunts and growls. He bit onto his inner cheek hard to keep himself from finishing so prematurely.

He’s a gentleman at heart, wanting to pull as many orgasms from you as he can before he busts himself, but chivalry be damned; he wants to pump you so full that you’re unable to walk for the of the day.

“You’re so.. mmmph.. fucking tight… shit... Squeezing me like you don’t hate my guts.” He muses as he slowly rocks his hips back and forth. He grips the belt that’s binding your wrists, and he pulls you down onto his cock harder, literally skewering you onto him. 

“Oh fuck! Levi!” You cry out, unable to even filter your noises in the slightest. “D-don’t hate you.. ngh.. need you, want you.” You whine, and Levi subtly smiles from your sudden sweet comments, but he’s not going to let off that easily.

He growls lowly before he lets go of your wrists. His smaller frame mounts you from behind before he takes his hand, wrapping it into your hair, and shoves your face down farther into his pillow. “Shut the fuck up before you wake someone.” He warns in a husky whisper pressed right against your ear.

“‘m sorry… ‘m sorry! nnngh~ so good.. I can’t help it.” You apologized in a muffled whine, making Levi scoff at your pathetic attempts of being good for him.

When your noises are subdued a little bit, his hands flee your hair, and he grips your hips hard enough to bruise as he pounded into you relentlessly.

The obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin echoes in his room, mixing with your muffled moans and Levi's grunts of pleasure. It’s filthy and wrong and so fucking hot that Levi thinks he might actually combust from the intensity of it all.

Your legs are completely trembling, and you’re just so fucking wet. Your poor messy cunt is dripping all over his sheets and blanket, and Levi’s vulgar mind is focused on how he’ll be able to smell you later. He’s already planning on getting himself off to the scent of your arousal.

“Fuck Levi… I c-can’t.. mm.. I’m going to cum-!” You warn in a breathless whine, unable to keep up with the way his hips are brutally snapping behind you.

“That’s all you can take, brat?” He mocks with a taunting laugh before he wraps your hair around his knuckles, tugging your face up from the pillow. “Cum for me.” He demands lowly, slamming himself into you even deeper — trying to push himself directly into your womb with the way his tip is kissing your cervix with each deep thrust.

Not even a second later, you drenched walls convulse around him, squeezing him somehow even tighter than before. It’s the only piece of heaven that a devil like Levi will ever see. Now’s as good of time as any.

His thrusts become sloppy, his rhythm faltering as he dances on the edge of an orgasm. You could feel him throbbing deep inside you, his cock pulsing with the need for release.

Levi grits his teeth together, and he forces your body against his rapidly, making you see stars as you’re trying to cope with your own orgasm. His bed is rattling and knocking against the wall, but he can’t bring himself to care.

A loud breathy groan rips through the air as he finally pumps you so fucking full of his cum. His cock just keeps twitching with ribbon after ribbon. It’s been so long since his last release. He’s sure that the sheer potency of his seed will likely get you pregnant, but he only finds that idea to be even more enticing.

Your legs are twitching as your body slumps against the bed. His cock eases out of you slowly, and he watches with lust filled eyes as his cum starts to seep out of your ruined hole. A small frown occupies his lips, and he scoops some of his own semen onto his fingers before he pushes them deep inside you — fucking his cum back into you.

“Mmmnph!” You whine into the pillows at your back arches back up.

“It’s your own damn fault for being wasteful. Keep whining like that, and I’ll pump more into you.” He threatens as his fingers piston in and out of you at a leisurely pace.

Your head turns to face him while still forcibly being bent over, and you give him a small mischievous grin before letting out another pornographic whine.

“You’re fucking asking for it now, brat.” He grunts as he swiftly flips you onto your back. Levi is a man of his word after all.

[ryo-kaikura]

Yandere Male Siren x Pirate Male Reader

Tw: yandere, mentions of killing, maybe actual killing, forced abortion

Btw, you're around 180cm, you're slightly a jerk, I made siren autonomy to have both male and female genitalia in both siren form and human form, it's 18+ in more ways than one. I was also slightly horny making *that* scene (⁠◔⁠‿⁠◔⁠)

—————————————————————

You're a captain, the captain of one of the feared pirates, the black skull, but currently you're on a small boat, rowing to a beach… why? Because you're meeting a siren.

Usually, sirens are out to kill but it seems like this one isn't like the rest. He's kind, good looking and has a beautiful voice, his name's Morien.

Though truthfully his name has a slightly eerie meaning… Most parents don't truly think deeply of their children’s names especially when they even threw that children away.

I mean I don't like sirens but Morien is kind. When we first met, I was scouting for a deep enough area to dock, since I was familiar with the rocky area unlike my crew, and sending any of them would lead to their deaths. And even though I knew the area, it seems like I would've still died in a whirlpool that mysteriously showed up. In my almost unconscious state I saw a big black fish tail that seemed to gleam under the little to no sun in the area I was pulled in. I didn't even realize my foot got stuck between some rocks until the black fish tail came around and showed a hand that pulled me to the surface. While being pulled to the surface, I seem to have gone unconscious.

When I came to, a siren, with flowing dark blue hair and skin that seemed to be bathed in milk with its almost near milky white color and a fish tail that seemed like the starry night sky with dark purple and black shine and tiny sparkles as the shine reflects on it, was wrapping my injured leg with a leaf. In an instant I try to get to my sword but realize it's nowhere near me. So I prepare myself for any horror it might show to me… but after 30 minutes it seems l be struggling with the bandage.

‘How cute’ so I called out and the siren seem to be in fear while turning around. And with a squeak he said “imsorryiwaspassingbysawyoustuck *inhale* soItriedtosaveyoubutionlynowhowtobringyoutothwsurface *exhale* plsdontkillme” and you just responded with a chuckle which seems to cause him to turn red. The siren then continued “my name's Morien, what's yours?”as he tilted his head. “Mine's M/n, fishy”

“By the way, aren't sirens supposed to go in groups? Why're you all alone, fishy”

“I was thrown out of the kingdom, since I refuse to lure any humans” “but I'm also lonely since anyone that saw I was a siren would try to kill me, by the way… I put your sword next to me, since I didn't want you kill me :(´◦ω◦｀):”

.

.

.

After that we talked until the sun was around halfway from setting. And he gave me a bell, where I could just say the location and ring the bell and he would instantly be notified

—————————————————————

After month of doing like this, suddenly I felt the boat steer to the left where I saw it was filled with Rocky areas, the I saw, Morien singing? But it doesn't seem like Morien, and Morien said he was kicked out for not luring humans

.

.

.

FUCK!!

Those are sirens.

I quickly took control of the ship from one of my crew that had been lured and brought the ship to safety. Later that night when they came to, they were instantly apologizing for falling for a sirens trick. Of course I forgave them, seems stupid not to forgive them since I was also lured but… they don't know that.

After a few more days sailing I saw a man desperately calling for help. So I asked my crew to help him up. But as they were bringing him up, they seemed to be completely whipped by him. The man introduced me and my crew as Caelun. He has dewy light brown skin that's almost white, flowy honey colored hair and green pupils, his height around 170 cm. Though e got everyone whipped, I could care less, in fact its seem I'm excited to meet with Morien.

That night we were able to anchor the boat and I decided to meet with Morien, so I said the location to the bell and rang it before going down on one of my small boats. Unknown to me, a certain honey colored hair is following me but he's not fully human, as where his feet are supposed to be is a fish tail. Not long after, I docked my boat and saw Morien. And like always he seemed giddy to meet with me again. After talking for a while and the moon already at its peak I decided to go back but suddenly Morien suggested bringing him on the ship. I didn't know how, but somehow he was able to turn into a human. So I brought him back with me as I rowed the boat back, unknown to me, the certain honey haired boy was furious.

When I got back, I introduced him to my crew and it seemed like his height's now 175cm and his once flowing hair turned into short messy dark purple hair, after that I gave him his own room and went back to my own. Suddenly I saw Caelun wearing lingerie on my bed, I couldn't seem to look away, somehow, I got hard. Without a care in the world, I went and had fun with Caelun, we did it till morning, where he had bite marks and hickeys that all around his body, cum was still dropping from his gaping cunt that seemed to be unable to close with how long I fucked it open, I'm also praying he won't get a kid cause of this. Cause of the intense fucking we did, I let him rest.

After the refreshing night, Morien seemed to be in a pouty mood all the time.

That night, I went back to my room and saw Caelun wearing new lingerie. Feeling a little pent up, I made him ride me, but unknowingly I gave him a perfect opportunity, while he was riding me, he started singing… not long after I passed out but I still could feel him riding me. When I came to, I felt love bursting out of my heart for him. I shoved my dick till I kept pounding on his cervix which seemed to cause him to squirt endlessly. After that was finished, I started making out with Caelun kissing him and manhandling him to my liking, I kept fucking him over and over again even after r the sun has risen to its peak. After I finish Caelun looks like he's pregnant with how swollen with cum his cunt is. As I want him to be pregnant with my child I took a toy that he seemed to have brought, that is the size of a fist and plugged his cunt so while he's out and about it won't spill.

Later after discussing routes and everything else with my crew, Morien wanted to see me, he started to say how Caelun is the siren prince and how he kept luring humans. But I didn't want to hear any of it, so I reprimand Morien for slandering someone else cause of his jealousy and went back to my room and slept with Caelun.

The next morning I made Caelun do some chores on the ship but it looks like every step he took, it made him more and more stimulated till he was overstimulated and kept squirting since I did add an extra toy to tease his clit.

I soon helped him and made Morien clean after the mess.

A few weeks later, after fucking Caelun almost everyday and only cleaning his cunt after he felt sick cause of it, he was finally pregnant. So I hurriedly tried to find a suitable docking place to go and bring Caelun to his parents. After three months I was able to dock, I ordered my crew to take a months vacation and then I brought Caelun deep undersea, I was able to breathe underwater since Caelun help and used one of his singing to make me able p breath underwater.

Why is it that I wasn't shocked he was a siren and a prince, it was because the night Morien said those things, I confronted Caelun, and he told the truth but said nobody was ever kicked out for not wanting to lure humans, since it not like any humans were kicked out since they didn't want to hunt.

After that day my distrust for Morien grew. Somehow, I realized Morien was following us to the kingdom, I have to protect my baby.

Later, I brought Caelun to the king and we chatted, and I agreed to help raise Caelun’s children.

Later that week, Morien found me while I was exploring the kingdom and asked to talk. Not long after, he started singing and then I realized Caelun had caused me to hate and distrust Morien even though Morien saved me and even though the king felt like a nice person, it turns out him and Caelun had hidden motives, so wanted to leave with Morien but Morien said he had something to do.

A few days later

I went back to the kingdom after Morien didn't come up and visit me. I'm glad the spell still worked, so I went to check on Morien, just to see him get told his crimes?!! I won't stand for this.

I ready my sword and lunge at the guards, causing a commotion. I hurriedly took Morien and swam as fast as possible away from the kingdom.

But unfortunately, I was never faster than those born under the sea. After getting caught, Caelun was shocked to see I was helping Morien. He kept asking if my promise to help him raise our child was a lie. I simply told him that I would never want to raise my child with someone who mind controlled me to have a child with them.

But all Caelun said was “hah! Why would I, a prince, try mind controlling you, I don't need to try to do that, when I want something, then I will get it, anyway, I'm already pregnant with your babies, and you'll need to take care of it” while a look of disbelief and confusion was shown on his face.

Then I saw a rumbling behind me and heard Morien shout “don't disrespect him, when you have no basis, I as the second prince and successor of one of the great sea serpents shall judge the king and his son!!”

After that, Morien judged the king as someone who was unworthy of being the king and listed all the king “crimes”...

Huh…

Why did I put quotations as if I know Morien is saying baseless crimes…

Haaahhh… must've been the lingering mind control.

Soon Morien lunged at the king and pulled his heart out, seeing such a gruesome scene, Caelun passed out. Then I heard Morien asking the guards to drag the unworthy first prince to the dungeon.

.

.

.

.

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Morien's POV

Son of a bitch, Caelun was able to destroy my mind control on M/n, and even though M/n didn't realize it, the one who saved him wasn't me, but Caelun, no matter, I'll just kill him and the children that bitch made with MY mate.

I went back to the kingdom that knew I was the star of destruction but didn't treat me any differently, and started my 10 year long plan. What is my 10 year long plan? Taking complete control over the kingdom. Originally I was going to be kind to the king and kill them after the king is old and dying but after I saw Caelun go outside the barrier and save a human, I fell for the human and decide to jump star my plan. So I warned Caelun that his father was searching for him but in truth, his father didn't need him for anything. I just needed a perfect time and place to start my ego.

(In my world, Ego's are ancient powers everyone has but nobody knows about this anymore since less and less people has been using their ego's because it's much easier to use magic, since if their ego's are attacked of damaged it will directly affect the users soul)

What I didn't realize was that after I sent Caelun back home, they realized that the prophecy was true, about the fact I am the star of destruction and anyway they treat me, I will end up usurping the throne but it was said that if I found the “one” My desire to destroy would disappear.

Didn't matter though, I had wanted to have the throne since I was small. When I saw that the Mermaids, a creation made by one of the ancient sea serpents, in fact were just the creation of one of the old gods' ego, trying to paint the siren kingdom black. I realized that I might be the star of destruction but not entirely on the siren kingdom, but on another kingdom instead.

Afterwards, I was just planning on killing the king so I could frame the mermaid royalty. But now, not only do I want to destroy the mermaids but I also want to get rid of the existing challenges in my way, and one of them is Caelun.

The only problem that Caelun pose Is the fact he is completely and at an entirely higher level than me in his proficiency in magic and his singing.

No matter, all I cared is that he is now completely crushed and I have M/n completely under my spell.

Currently I'm going to the dungeon, to see my elder brother in his demise.

“Wakey wakey~, brother.”

“Why are you doing this Morien, I thought you were not gonna complete the prophecy, why are you doing this”

I opened the bars and looked at Caelun's, chained to the wall, heavy belly. Every time I see this abomination, I wish to kill him.

“Hah! And here I thought you were a genius, didn't you know the signature markings on M/n are MINE. You just had to break the spell on him and get pregnant with MY mate's offspring”

“I knew it was yours but it's using that spell means I you were to order him to die he will kill himself and that's dangerous, what if someone mimics your voice”

“That's true but you need not worry, in fact, I already have it under control. Anyways, aren't you curious why you said those things in front of M/n”

“!!! What!!! You were involved with that?!!”

“hah, that funny, I'm shocked you didn't realized, didn't you taste something funny from the food I gave you before you wanted to list my crimes 😊”

“Wha-”

“I laced your food with a puppetry potion, and I forced you to say those things, just to crush all hope My Mate has for you. And now, all I need to do is get rid of those things in your stomach.”

“Wha-, no please, no.”

(Specified gruesome abortion scene, skip this paragraph if you can't handle it)

I started to gather my mana into a black ball of smoke and directly fused it with his stomach, when I saw there's barely any life in it now, I raised my foot and brought it directly on his stomach. Not long after, I saw blood gushing out of his pathetic cunt, and I saw happily as some egg sack skins and egg sack insides came pouring out. It would mean the babies are completely dead.

To make sure, there are none alive I checked using my ego. When I'm sure they're all dead I left. Unknowingly, an egg was still alive but he was able to successfully nurture it.

————————————————————————

A few months later, I finally married and officially mated M/n and decide to live on the surface, after completely blackening the concepts of mermaids to humans, while sometimes taking time to clean up trouble under the sea.

Though, M/n will never realize, I killed his offspring that he had with my brother nor will he realize any girl or boy that flirted with him are now on the dining tables of the sirens. I will make sure of that

————————————————————————

This was supposed to be like the little mermaid but if Ariel never realizes Vanessa is Ursula and even though Ariel realizes Vanessa is Ursula, Ursula still won the last battle and completely took over Prince Eric’s mind. Idk how it went like this… though because of that I switch their names, og

Caelun saves you

You fell for Caelun

Morien and his group lures your boat

You didn't fall for it

Morien turn human cause he want to know why you didn't get lured

Morien realize u like Caelun and went crazy

Morien mind control causing u to hate Caelun

Caelun gets killed

U and Morien had babies

Morien= Inspired by: Welsh/Celtic roots “mor” (sea) and “ien” (youth or life)(unsure about the ien for youth/life). Romantic and eerie—like a sea spirit who never ages and always takes.

Caelun= Inspired by: Latin caelum (sky/heaven) Caelun is airy, sky-linked, and peaceful—offering a celestial counterpoint to Morien’s dark oceanic lure. Air vs. abyss.

[finelinevogue]

Hi!! I would love a blurb for Azriel (ACOTAR) with 3 & 17 please ❤️ thank you!!!

hi!! of course🌟💖 az has such a soft place in my heart so i’m super excited to write more for him<3

am i allowed to miss you?

summary - azriel comes back from a mission and you’re not sure whether you’re allowed to miss him or not

pairing - azriel x new-mate!reader

✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐

Elain bursts through the library doors, looking for you.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, sitting up and closing your book to show attention to her.

“Azriel’s back.” She breathed out, pausing a moment to watch you digest the news before leaving you alone again.

Elain left the door open, allowing you to hear the commotion in the hallway of all your friends greeting Azriel a warm welcome home.

It took you just a moment, but you started to feel his presence beside you. You allowed that warm feeling within-side you to fester and grow, feeling an overwhelming amount of love and safety all at once.

It was the bond.

The new bond.

You and Azriel were only a few weeks mated, after only having courted for a few weeks before that. You couldn’t help but mate each other because of how strong your feelings were to one another. It just made sense.

However, a few days ago Azriel had to leave to go on a mission even though both of you were still reeling in the honeymoon phase of your newly mated lives.

Standing up, you brushed some crumbs off your dress skirt and breathed out shakily.

You were so nervous.

The pace at which you’d been with Az had been so fast that you were still a little unsure how you were supposed to feel. It wasn’t a conventional relationship, per say, but that didn’t mean what you felt for each other was any less real. You knew that. However, you worried.

Walking out of the library you rounded the corner to see everyone crowding Azriel.

Rhys ruffled his hair and Cassian was finishing squeezing him tight as if he’d been gone for 30 years not 30 hours.

You watched with a smile on your face.

Azriel hates being fussed over like he currently is being, so it’s a little funny to watch. He’s too polite to tell them to leave, or maybe a secret part of him actually likes it. Either way, you stand back and allow him to be fussed over.

“Anything to report back?” Rhys asked.

“Rhys, you sent me on a scouting mission to count how many cattle Beron has. Except from the number ‘73’, no. Nothing to report.” Azriel said in the most sarcastic way.

Feyre laughed at this, teasing Rhys over something so silly.

“Counting cattle? Whatever for?” Amren asked.

“I have my reasons.” Rhys blushed, seemingly embarrassed but everyone knew there must be a good reason behind it all. Rhys was respected enough by everyone not for anyone to question anything.

“Was one of those reasons keeping me from my mate?” Azriel asked.

It was then that you’d realised that you’d clearly missed something and Azriel appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His kissed the top of your head and held you close for a moment.

“More like to give us a break from you being with your mate.” Cassian grumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Azriel questioned for you both.

“Umm…” Cassian blushed.

“What Cassian is trying to insinuate is that the walls are old and so the walls are thin. We can hear… everything.” Nesta suggested for her mate.

You muttered a curse to the Gods under your breath, turning beet red at Nesta’s comment.

Everyone else chuckled.

Azriel must have known that you were feeling embarrassed because the next thing you knew you were being swept up in his arms, being carried like a bride.

“Right. Y/N and I are leaving. You can count your own cattle from now on Rhysand. And as for you, Lord od Bloodshed, would you like me to tell everyone about the time I caught you in Nesta’s lingerie and not for a devious reason?”

“You little…” Cassian started to move forward but Azriel had disappeared, along with you, before he could get anywhere close.

You both appeared in his room, out of the shadows.

Azriel put you down on the bed, following you down so he was leaning over you.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azriel said, kissing you deeply.

You followed his kisses, taking his lead and kissing as much as Azriel was giving. It was soft but at the same time urgent. Your fingers cupped his cheeks, attempting to keep him placed against you forever.

“Welcome home.” You said softly, kissing him once more.

Next thing you know he’s kissing your forehead, nose, chin and cheek. He kept going, moving down across your jaw and onto your neck.

“Did you miss me?” He asked, finding the spot on your neck that you loved him kissing and keeping there.

You didn’t respond to his question, pushing it off as distraction and not listening.

“Y/N?” He left the spot on your neck, moving his eyes until they caught your distanced ones. “Hey. Don’t get shy on me.”

“I’m not.”

“You seem… distracted.”

You watched his eyes assess your face for a long moment. His eyes swirled with a flurry of emotions and you could feel his concern within your own chest. You imagined that he could feel your anxiety in his.

“Am I…” You started then stopped.

Azriel didn’t push you or try and finish the question for you, instead he pushed himself off you and sat on the bed. He carefully took your hand and pulled you up too, not satisfied until he swung you across his lap and held you close.

One of Az’s hands intertwined with yours and you sat like this for a moment more. Enjoying being next to each other. Enjoying the overwhelming emotions settle down as your bond recognised your closeness.

“Am I allowed to miss you?” You asked, remaining looking at his hand rather than him.

“You… Why… Of course you can miss me, my love.” He kissed your forehead. “Why would you think not? Was it Cassian? I swear to….”

“No!” You exclaimed, looking at him then, “It wasn’t Cassian, no.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s just. Everything between us has happened so fast. I went from liking you, to loving you, to mating you all into the space of a month. I don’t feel like time exists and yet… I also feel like I don’t have the right to miss you so much that my heart physically aches after so little time.”

Azriel brings your tied hands up to his chest, leaving your hand to feel his heart beating.

“My heart physically ached too.” He gives you a soft smile.

“I did. I really did miss you.”

“I know. I know, because I felt the same way.” He gave you one loving kiss, “I don’t think it’s silly to worry over how quickly everything has shifted between us, and I do think that we feel right. I think we’re good. And we love each other enough to miss each other. So never worry about how you’re feeling, or if you’re feeling too much too soon - chances are I’m feeling it too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Welcome home, Az.” You give him another kiss.

“Now let’s give Cassian something to groan about.” Azriel says before flipping you back on the bed.

[m-jelly]

Helllooo, Idk if u still do nsfw but can i request Levi x Reader smut? 😏(But mix it with fluff)

Levi and Reader have been dating in secret like nobody in the survey corps knew about them dating. Then Reader and Levi had smexyyy time at Levi's office then Hange accidentally bust the door open revealing the two couple and Hange squels in happiness because they ship Levi and Reader for so long and then Hange spread the knews like a wild fire xD (you decide the ending)

Shocking lover

Levi x fem reader

Canon world, smut, fluff, being a couple, being caught, angry and protective Levi.

While having a very intimate time with Levi on his desk, Hange unlocks Levi's door and lets herself in. She interrupts the two of you causing Levi to go into protective mode of you.

Your nails dragged over Levi's back as his cock pounded into your pussy. Your toes squeezed tightly as you felt blinded by pleasure. You pushed your fingers into Levi's hair and tugged a little. Seeing the Captain of the scouts fuck you speechless made your heart race. This strong man worshipped the ground you walked on and after you took his virginity, he was an unstoppable beast when it came to sex and lovemaking.

Levi yanked you closer to him before crashing his lips against yours. He moaned against your lips as his heart fluttered in his chest. He gripped your hips tightly as he bucked into you on his desk. The desk creaked and groaned under the power of his thrusts, it even began scraping across the floor and leaving marks.

You leaned your head back pulling from Levi's lips as you moaned out loud. "F-Fuck, Levi."

Levi attacked your neck with bites and kisses; your name was a sweet song on his lips. "I love you." He grunted as your walls clenched him. "I love you."

You shivered as you felt a pop and a trickle of an orgasm wash over you. "A-Ah, Levi. Mm, I love you too."

He panted and lay you back on his desk, your head hanging over the edge a little. "Shit, you look like a goddess." He eyed your breasts falling out of your bra and your shirt yanked open. He flicked his gaze to his cock pressed into you, he dragged himself out a little to see he was glistening with your arousal. "Tch, fuck that looks good."

You ran your fingers down his chest. You gripped his open shirt and yanked him down to you. "You always look good."

Levi blushed as he panted. "Tch, I still don't understand how I managed to get you as mine."

You smiled. "You were sweet, kind, funny, sexy and handsome." You cupped his face. "So cute." You hummed a laugh. "I can't believe you wanted me. I'm not much."

"You are the most perfect and stunning woman I've ever met. I adore you." He turned his head and kissed your hand. "I love you."

You massaged your fingers in his hair. "Levi, I love you so much. Now, please cum inside me."

He blushed hard. "Tch, yes miss." He dove for your breasts and began sucking and biting while he snapped his hips against yours. "Mm."

You tugged on his hair as you wrapped your legs around him. "A-Ah."

"Holy. Shit."

Levi slowly lifted his head from your chest, his hips stilled as he stared at his office door to see Hange standing there. "Tch, how the FUCK did you get in!? My office was LOCKED!"

She grinned. "Key."

He yanked you against him protecting you from her gaze. He held you close as he stood up. "You're supposed to fucking knock!"

"Sorry, but this is amazing! I knew you two were the perfect couple. I have to tell everyone!"

Levi stared as she slammed the door and left you both alone again. He released you a little and looked down at your flustered and embarrassed face. "I'm so sorry." He caressed your cheek. "That shouldn't have happened. I locked that door." He dragged himself out of you and checked you over. "I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you."

You smiled a little. "It's okay. It was bound to happen someday."

"I shouldn't have." He fixed the shirt for you. "Let me get you to the bath to clean up and I'll go murder Hange."

You hummed a laugh as Levi carried you to his bathroom. "No murdering."

"Bit of murder?"

"No."

He hummed. "Tiny bit?"

You laughed. "You're cute."

He helped you into the bath and handed you some cleaning things. "Thank you." He kissed your forehead and cleaned up quickly. "I'll be back later, my darling love, okay?"

You gripped the edge of the bath and leaned closer to him. "Don't hurt Hange too much, okay?"

He stared at you for a bit. "I can't promise that." He knelt and took your hand before showering it with kisses. "I loved you and I need to protect you. What Hange did to us was fucked up and wrong. You're incredibly important to me, so I need to put my foot down on her repeatedly."

You snorted a laugh. "Report it to Erwin. As a sorry we might get some leave, which means time together."

He gasped a little, delighted by your news. "Oh, you're right. I'll do that, but first I gotta kick her."

You patted his cheek. "Don't be too long, I want cuddles and you promised to cum in me."

Levi's pupils enlarged as arousal bubbled inside him. "I'll be fast."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @dreamerofthewest @abiatackerman @minminroie

[rikosseen]

Jonggun Park x Reader: Professor Park (Ablaze) P1

Part two here

The first year of university prolongs for you as you scour to survive your adult life and the unnerving tension with your health sciences’ professor— who is a disgustingly brooding, and good looking man. After an eventful first quarter, however, things start to go downhill with the decline of your mental, financial and social situation as a whole. Mr Park pays this in mind, and while he tries not to make it his business, he does anything but. You’re his favoured student after all; meeting up to his ideologies and such— so it’s a shame if he didn’t showcase a little more care if any.

The life of crime is a past that Jonggun has put behind him— albeit his friend’s persistence in continuing on their ‘legacy’. The two live vastly different lives, with Goo scouting and digging whatever job deems enticing and expensive— sometimes straying far from home, far from Korea, and Jonggun spending his nights glossing over content for his students. The two friends are on different paths, but Joongoo comes back regularly to visit the black haired male here and there to check how his companion is doing.

Jonggun isn’t opposed to the visits either, and over the course of almost a decade, has become welcoming of Goo’s spontaneous schedule.

“What’s that?” The blonde chimes, pouring himself an alcoholic beverage.

“Student assignments,” Jonggun responds, cracking his neck and stretching his arm out.

“What a fucking bore.”

“The kids are actually insightful.”

“You talk as if they’re not in their twenties,” Goo deadpans, pouring himself another cup.

“My point still stands,” Gun says calmly, a quirk on his lips. “Anyway. My lecture begins in a bit. Keep the apartment tidy till I get back, won’t you?”

Goo grunts at this and takes off his shirt to toss on the ground.

“Take your time! I might have company over!”

The statement makes Jonggun scowl in disgust.

“You better clean things up if that’s the case.”

“Yes, Professor Park,” Joongoo snorts out in mock, waving him goodbye with a cup in hand.

The door clicks close, and Jonggun pats his hair down before setting off to work.

.

.

Inside the lecture theatre, everyone is seated meticulously, awaiting professor Park’s arrival. It’s a scary thing, this class. Because the lecturer is a terrifying man who’s amongst the most uptight people within the university.

But his teaching is to be praised. Everyone knows just how well he does his job, and how diligent he is in helping his students improve— which is why you suppose your pupils hold the utmost respect for him. And why you hold the utmost respect for him. Save for the times he’s stared you down and humiliated you in front of the class for turning in incompetent work as he calls it. Anyway.

Jonggun Park, in all his glory, steps into the room, already radiating an air of authority. He places his belongings down, takes off his glasses, and rubs his eyes.

“Good afternoon everyone,” his voice echoes.

It sends shivers down your spine, all the way to your tailbone.

“I apologise for being late. Open up your devices so we can start” His eyes scour the room while turning on the projector, gaze lingering a little longer on you— to which you’re unbeknownst to.

.

By the end of his class, you’re exhausted, and can’t wait to get back home. To rest, put your feet up, and throw away all your responsibilities. But as each student flows out the room, your name is suddenly called by your professor. Low, and sweet. So with a heart wrenching heave (and perhaps a nervous stomach), you manage to turn your body toward the black haired man, and hesitantly walk up to his desk. His eyes are still trained on his laptop, furiously typing away as he waits for everyone else to leave. Your classmates give you a pitiful look, some shaking their heads, and some putting their hands up as a gesture that they’re praying for you. You suck in a breath. Watch your professor’s forearm flex and unflex as he moves his arm around, and open your mouth to speak.

“Yes, sir?” But before you can finish your line, he looks up at you with disapproving eyes. It’s a look similar to that of scrutiny, but you know it’s anything but. You pray so.

“Sit. We have a bit to discuss.”

The tone of voice and his piercing glare shrinks you down as you take a seat on the chair across him— can’t help but press your legs together when you settle down.

As the door to the lecture theatre closes, he leans back on his chair while crossing his arms. White irises train on you, waiting for you to speak up. Only to overrun your words.

“Professor—” you begin.

“Your performance this past quarter has been extremely and utterly disappointing. Time and time again, I had to remind you of how the effort in your work has regressed. And time and time again had you reassured me that they were minor slip ups. I believed you in the beginning… seeing how studious you first were, but this ongoing lack of everything is not something I approve of. Were you ever in need of help, I was always here. Waiting.”

You gulp at his last word, and look down to fiddle with your fingers, feeling it too suffocating to meet his eyes.

“If there’s something wrong, tell me. I’m your professor. That’s what I’m good for,” he sighs, picking up your last assignment and tossing it in front of you.

“I’m not trying to ostracise you, but I know you can do better. So if there’s something bothering you, let me know.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, picking up your work and standing up.

“Sit. We’re not finished.”

Defeated, you slowly sit back down.

“Do you enjoy this class?”

The question makes your head quirk up.

“Of course!” You sound defensive.

Professor Park doesn’t look convinced. One leg crosses over the other, and he taps on his chair’s armrest in a repetitive motion. You swear you see his jaw tighten, but he waves his hand in dismissal, suddenly not needing to talk to you any further. With a curt goodbye, you scamper out of the room, sweating profusely after being let off.

Jonggun Park breathes out a low sigh as he unbuttons his shirt enough to match his loosened tie. Body sagging from his conversation with you, his leg twitches with the longing to go after the person who just left as his eyes linger on the closed door. But he refrains from doing so. Because professor Park is someone of dignity and integrity.

.

.

Cold water trickles down Jonggun’s body, sliding in streams from the crevices of his toned muscles. The black haired man repeatedly massages his face in an attempt to refresh himself, but his mind is abuzz.

Yes, sir, you’d said earlier today, eyes avoidant, and body nervous.

Professor, you’d called out before he interrupted you.

Maybe it was Jonggun’s impulse to want to know everything about his students. It was in his nature to use that information to nurture and help them grow after all. So why hadn’t you reached out to him when you so clearly had something going on? Was he not reliable? Or perhaps you didn’t feel safe enough.

An aggravated sigh leaves Gun’s mouth as he finishes up his shower routine, wrapping a towel around his waist.

What a hassle. He thought all those years of professional help would’ve made him easier to approach.

Skincare products are slapped onto Jonggun’s face as he quickly retreats to his study to mark impending work. Water still dripping from his wet hair, the professor takes a seat before he hears the apartment door click open.

“I’m back!!” He hears Goo call out.

“Good to know,” Gun responds.

“Hello?!” The blonde screeches, sounding a little further this time.

Jonggun pinches the bridge of his nose and stands up to scream at Goo, tightening the towel around his waist as he walks out to the kitchen.

“Its 11pm, don’t go yelling unless you want to stay in your own apartment,” Gun scowls.

The blonde turns around with a grin.

That’s not good.

Then your head pops up from behind Goo.

“Professor?” You question, eyes widening.

Gun sucks in a breath before narrowing his eyes at Joongoo.

“Professor…?” The blonde scratches the nape of his neck. “Are you one of his students?”

“Joongoo, what the fuck is going on?” Gun asks, clutching the towel around his waist a little tighter.

“My new secret friend?” Goo sounds just as confused.

[k4marina]

— viii. Beyond the Wall || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: while you and jon lead a hunting party north of the wall, you come face to face with a being that you'd only read about in history books.

warning: game of thrones cannon violence and themes follows the episode Beyong the Wall [S7, Ep6]

all dialogue in italics is Valyrian

authors note at the end !!

series masterlist || next part

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

4.9k word count

[gif found on pinterest]

The weather had gotten slightly better, the sun was now up in the sky and the snow settled allowing you to see clearly again. The terrain had gotten more jagged the higher we climbed up the mountain. Piles of snow covered the already icy terrain, making it even harder to walk up the mountain. Had I’d known that I’d be brought back in time I would have packed my snowshoes. My feet felt numb and damp from the cold weather and the nonstop walking. 

Tormund led the group with Jon and I behind him. Gendry was by Jon’s side close by. Behind us were the Hound and Beric, another Wildling scout, and all the way in the back Jorah and Thoros who were busy talking amongst themselves. 

“Say we get what we came here for,” Jon glanced at me. “How are we supposed to get back to Eastwatch?”

“I’ll call Viserion and he’ll fly us back.”  

“He’ll hear you this far?” 

“I’ve instructed him to stay close. You may not be able to see him, but he’s a lot closer than you’d think."  

“Shouldn’t he be here with us so he can protect us?”

I thought for a moment before I replied. “The Night King can raise beings from the dead. You’ve seen what he can do with people and bears.” I turned to look at him. “Imagine what he could do with a dragon.” Jon stops for a moment but then nods, finally understanding why I was so protective of Viserion. 

I didn’t need to imagine like Jon, I knew exactly how the Night King raised Viserion and used him to burn down the Wall. I’ve already gotten rid of most of Euron’s fleet, lowering the chances of Rhaegal’s death, but the Night King was who I was the most worried about. If he could get his hands on a dragon then the destruction he would cause would be catastrophic.

Out in the distance, we could hear the sound of metal clinking. Tormund motions for everyone to stop and carefully walks forwards and peers over the edge of the cliff. He turns and motions for Jon and I to come see. A line of wights marched forwards led by a White Walker. 

“Where's the rest of them?” Jon asks no one in particular. 

“If we wait long enough we’ll find out.” Tormund says. The three of us walked back to the group once the undead were out of sight. 

“There’s a line of the undead marching to somewhere,” Tormund said to the group. 

“We need a plan, a good one.” I said. “Any ideas?” Everyone glanced at each other, waiting for someone to pipe up, but no one did.

I let out a breath, “alright, huddle up. Here’s what we’re going to do.” 

––

The undead marched in a line into a hilly area. The White Walker at the front of the line stopped hearing a crackling causing the other wights behind him to halt. It looks forwards and steps ahead, spotting a small burning fire. It cautiously walks towards it, assessing his surroundings. But before it could turn back, everyone sprung up from hiding, ambushing the wights. 

Jon takes on the White Walker while the rest of us fight the wights who relentlessly attack even after they’ve been cut down. Every time one of us cuts them down, they keep getting back up. As planned, Jon slays the White Walker, plunging Longclaw into his abdomen. It violently shakes and collapses into ice, causing the rest of the wights, except for one, to crumble to the ground. We huddled around the remaining wight, looking for an opportunity to grab onto it. 

Huffing, Tormund throws his axe down and punches the wight square in its mouth, knocking it down. Sandor jumps onto it as it screeches and writhes under the Hound while Beric, Thoros, and Gendry hold down its limbs. 

“Gag it!” Sandor yells. 

I reached into my pocket, quickly pulling out a makeshift gag and stuffing it into his mouth just in time, cutting its loud screeching. Sandor puts a bag around its head and ties it with rope while the rest of the men put chains around him and put it into the cage we brought. 

But it wasn’t quick enough. A low rumbling could be heard in the distance. Jon turns back, all of us knowing what that meant.  

“Call him!” Jon yells. 

I looked up to the sky, silently praying Viserion was nearby. “Come to me, now!” 

It’s silent for a moment, apart from the light rumbling, but then we can hear the sound of wings flapping and Viserion roaring out in the distance. 

“He’s too far! Run!” Jon screams, panicked. He turns and makes a run for it, all of us following after him. The rumbling grows louder and as the undead closes in on us. 

We ran into a clearing, a rock in the middle of it with the wights hot on our trail. The ground cracks as we run and climb onto the huge rock. There’s a scream behind us and I turn to see a wildling scout being grabbed by a wight, but when he falls to the ground the frozen lake gives way and the wildling and weight fall through. 

Everyone watched in horror as the army of the undead circled around us. The ice on top of the lake broke away, leaving us encircled by a line of broken ice and frigid water. The undead stood at the edge of the water, not daring to go any further, unless they wanted to drown and die. Their hollow eyes locked onto us watching our every move. 

“Where’s the dragon!” Someone shouts. 

I looked up, wondering the same thing. 

My heart beat loudly and my throat closed up. There were more wights surrounding us and if we stayed any longer the Night King would be here. I turned to face the others, who were clearly disheveled and panicking themselves. Jon stares off where the wights stood, almost anticipating an attack. 

Where the fuck was Viserion?

As if he heard me, there's a loud roar overhead and then fire rains down from the sky and burns the wights. Everyone's head snaps up as Viserion flies by, torching the undead and turning them into ash. 

“Move! Make way!” I flailed my arms around, motioning everyone to step back and create a clearing for Viserion to land. He lands onto the rock and everyone climbs up. I sat at the front with Jon, Tormund, Jorah and Gendry made sure the cage was properly secured while Beric and Sandor carefully helped the injured Thoros up onto the dragon.  

Swiftly, Visierion flies up and back towards Eastwatch. I looked down, watching the undead burn when something caught my eye. I squinted and spotted the Night King. 

In his hand was an ice spear and I felt my heart drop. My hands tightened around Viserion’s spikes. I turned back to the men behind me who were holding onto dear life. 

“Hold on tight! Do not let go!” 

They hunker down, some readjusting their grip. I look down again and see the Night King preparing his aim at us.

“Evade, Viserion. Do not let him touch you.”

Viserion dives down, burning as much as he could. He circles around and faces the Night King, who throws the spear towards us. Quickly, Viserion dodges, pivoting left and rains fire from where the attack came before retreating fully. 

I glanced back, but couldn’t see the Night King anywhere. 

––

When we arrived back at Eastwatch, night had fallen. The ship had been waiting for us, ready for immediate departure. Jorah and Sandor dragged the cage with the wight aboard while Jon said his goodbyes to Tormund. 

“Let’s go.” He turns to me. 

I shook my head. “You go, I still have something to do.” 

Jon, gobsmacked, shakes his head. “No, you saw what’s over that wall. You can’t go.”

“I have to.” I said. “And before you say anything, Daenerys knows that I’m doing this.” 

“Fine.” He huffs. “I’ll go with you.” 

“No you won't. You have to get back to Dany.” 

“And you don't?"

“I do. Just after I’ve done this.” 

He sighs, eyes darting back. “At least take Tormund with you.” 

“You know I can’t-”

“Please.” He cuts me off. He frowns and I sighed. 

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Satisfied, he backs down. “Good.” 

“Now go. You have a Dragon Queen waiting for you.” I lightly shoved him back towards the ship. He shakes his head but boards the ship. Tormund and I stood there watching as the ship finally sailed off. 

––

The sun had just risen when Tormund and I met again in the hall. We each had a bowl of hot stew in front of us. 

“Alright, tell me the plan.” Tormund says, shoving a spoonful of the stew into his mouth. 

I drank some of the ale we’d been given. “I need to find a cave.” 

“There are a lot of caves.” 

“I know that.” I crossed my arms on top of the table. “This one is about east of the Fist of the First Men and west of the headwaters of the Antler River. There should be a huge Weirwood tree on top of it in a huge clearing.” 

He stops eating, staring at me. “There’s something in the caves.” 

I nod. “Something very valuable.” 

“Is it a dragon egg?”

I shake my head. “No.” 

“Then what?” 

“I’ll show you when I have it. So, can you help me?” 

He keeps his intense eye contact with me while slowly bringing a spoonful of the stew to his mouth. He loudly slurped, dragging it on longer than he should have. 

“Aye.” 

–––

“There,” Tormund's hand stuck out, pointing down at a small clearing in a forest below us. “If you land there then we’ll only have to walk a distance.” 

I nod and Viserion ascends down, carefully landing. We get off and Tormund rummages in his pack, pulling out an unlit torch. He raises it up to Viserion, waiting. I furrowed my brows, wondering what he was doing when it dawned on me. 

Knowing as well, Viserion looks back to me and I nod. He turns back and lets out just enough fire to light the torch without burning the Wildlings hand. 

Ecstatic, Tormund looks back at me, like a child. “Look!” I had to stop myself from laughing how easily entertained he was. 

Is this what the man who first created fire looked like?

I turned back to Viserion. “Stay vigilant for the undead. And stay close, I may need you.” He purrs, understands and flies away.

“Why isn’t he coming?” 

“Too much attention.” 

“What if we see White Walkers?” 

“What? Tormund Giantsbane can’t take care of a few White Walkers?” 

He puffs his chest, holding onto the torch tighter. “Of course I can!”

“Then let's go,” I said. 

We started walking through the dense forest, Tormund leading the way. The land was rugged and snowy, like most of the terrain beyond the Wall. My eyes scanned ahead in case any White Walkers or wights tried to attack us. We walked for hours before finally coming across it.

There was a clearing in the forest. A jagged hill in the middle with boulders around it. At the top was a giant Weirwood tree. Its branches fanned far out and high, its red leaves glowing in the sun. The trunk of the three was thick, a testament to how old it was. Its roots spread all over, some even exposed and covered in layers of snow. At the base of the hill, behind the boulders was a secret entrance. It looked as if it was blown open and then covered in rocks.

“Well we’re fucked.” Tormund says. “What the fuck even happened here?”

“White Walkers.” I replied, looking for an alternative entrance. “They ravaged the place.” 

“Looks like they did more than ravage.” 

I looked around for an alternative way in, pushing back rocks and the snow around the hill, but couldn’t find anything. 

“Right there,” Tormund points to a small opening, just enough for one person to pass through. It was on the other side of the hill, behind a large boulder. 

“You’ll have to stay out here.” I reached for the torch, but he pulled it away. 

“You don’t know what’s in there.” 

“Yes I do.” A few dead bodies and what I came here for the first place. 

“You just said White Walkers were here. They could be inside right now.” 

“And if they are, then I’ll kill them with my dagger.” 

“But-” 

“Tormund,” I firmly squeezed his arm. “I need you to stand guard and watch for any threat.”  He stops talking and puffs up again, nodding. He hands me the torch and pulls out his axe. 

I carefully slipped through the entrance, holding the torch out in front of me. Was it wrong for me to play into Tormund’s almost himbo mindset to get him to stay out? Sure. But, he didn’t seem to mind that much, happy to play on as the ‘big strong guy.’ 

Vines and three roots covered every inch of the place, even the ceiling. The passageway was narrow but opened up the deeper you went. I spotted a corpse of a man on the heavier side hunched over by a wall, which I assumed led to the other entrance. A little ways ahead, a direwolf with a white belly and a light brown fur coat lay lifeless too. The passageway opened into a large room, covered in three roots coming from up above. Bits of sunlight shone through the walls and ceiling. It was like being inside of a huge tree. 

In the middle of the room a cluster of roots stood tall, reaching from the ceiling to the floor. Its wild tendrils mimicked the Iron Throne, and at the center was a frail, dead body of a man. He was entwined into the roots, having been there for a very long time, his nails long and jagged, arms and fingers boney, his silver white hair falling out. 

This was it. 

I searched the room, high and low, looking for what I came for. It wasn’t until I turned to look around the man did I spot it, covered in its black and red scabbard with faded gold detailing. I set the torch down, getting on my hands and knees to dig it out of the mess of tree roots. Finally free, I was able to fully admire it. 

I pulled the blade out of its sheath, the almost metallic liquid looking steel shining back at me, even after all these years of not being used it still looked to be in somewhat pristine condition. Its crossguard was made up of gold and in the design of dragonwings with a bright red ruby at the center above the rainguard. Its grip was leather bound, clearly worn with a scale pattern on them, and the pommel was made of two pieces; a golden piece mimicking fire and a chunk of Valyrian steel molded into a dragon egg. 

Quickly I sheathed the sword and grabbed the torch, making my way back. I walked briskly, feeling that something was off. As I approached the entrance I could hear grunting and an axe swinging before a thud. I hurried and got out, only to see Tormund on the ground, a wight on top of him while he tried to push it back. 

I work fast to pull the sword out of its scabbard, running to where Tormund was. I lift the sword high and bring it down onto the wight, killing it instantly. Panting, he pushes the wight off of him and back onto his feet, grabbing his axe. 

“Took you long enough.” He gets ready for another quip, but stops when he sees what’s in my hand. 

“What is that?”

“Dark Sister.”

––

“You’re not going to take a ship?” I shook my head at Tormund. “It’ll take too long.” 

“And on Dragon?” 

“Long, but still faster than a ship.” 

Viserion growls behind us, eager to leave and get back to his mother and two brothers.

“I’ll see you again.” I say.

“Stay safe, dragon women.” He sticks his hand out and we shake, holding onto each other forearms.

“You as well.”

I quickly mount Viserion, and take to the sky. The cold wind blew past me and I sighed, finally able to go home. 

–– 

Night had fallen by the time I had arrived back to Dragonstone. The moon lit my way from the cliff sides to the castle. Viserion quickly went to find his brothers, exhausted from flying in the North so much. 

I found Daenerys in the throne room, staring out of the large floor to ceiling windows, deep in thought. The door closed softly behind me, catching her attention. 

“You’re back. Was there any trouble?” 

“Had a brief encounter, but other than that nothing else.” 

She saw me covering the sword behind me. “What is that?”

“It’s yours.” I stepped closer, grabbing her hand and leading her up to the throne. “Nearly half a century ago, your family lost one of its ancestral swords. And it wasn’t until hundreds of years later was it found again by explorers.”

“I don’t understand.” 

I stood her in front of the throne, stepping back. “Brynden Rivers, bastard son of Aegon the Unworthy. In 233, he traveled to the wall with the sword and later became Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, but then he vanished while he was ranging beyond the wall, taking the sword with him.”

I pulled the sword from behind me, taking it out of its scabbard and presented it to her. The moonlight pouring into the throne room glistened against the blade. The gold detailing, despite its rust, stood out against the Valyrian steel detailing. And the bright ruby that already stood out, glowed a deep red. 

“Dark Sister,” Daenerys said, breathless. 

Carefully, she reached out, letting her fingers glide across the swirling steel. She finally grasped the slim handle, feeling the weight of the sword. Her eyes lingered on it before shifting towards me. 

“That’s why you went.” 

“Partially, but yes.” I replied. “Bit by bit, we’re going to restore your family back to its former glory. Starting with this sword.” 

––

Everyone stood in the open courtyard, eagerly waiting for the “demonstration.” 

Daenerys stood on the steps, Missandei, Tyrion, Varys, and I at her sides. Grey Worm and a few Unsullied stood close to them, ready for a sudden attack. Jon and his men stood in the middle of the courtyard, a box at their feet. 

“You said you wanted proof of the undead,” Jon looked at Daenerys. He motioned for Jorah to open the lid of the box, reaching in and pulling off the burlap sack. Sandor kicked the box and out fell a chained skeleton in rags. Everyone watched, intently, as the wight slowly woke up and let out a shrill. It tried to run and attack, but couldn’t as the chains kept him close to the box. 

Daenerys’ face drops, the full weight of the situation clear to her. This was more than a fight for the throne now, it was about life and death. Having seen enough she motions for Jon to cage the wight again. It screams when the Hound punches it in its face before being bound and caged again and then dragged away.

“All of you risked your life to bring the world proof of the undead.” Daenerys steps down the steps. She looks up at Jon. “We’re going to destroy the Night King and his army, together. You have my word.” 

There’s a weight lifted off of everyone, relieved that Daenerys had agreed to join sides with Jon. 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Jon tilts his head down and to everyone's surprise sinks down to one knee. Daenerys’ eyes widened, more surprised than anyone else. “I swear my allegiance to you, Daenerys Targaryen.” 

“What about those that swore allegiance to you?” 

“They’ll all come to see you for who you really are.” Jon replied. 

Daenerys squares her shoulders. “Rise, Jon Snow, Lord of Winterfell.” He stands and Daenerys takes his hands in hers, and the two share an intimate moment. 

Eventually, someone (me) loudly cleared their throat, pulling them back to reality. Awkwardly, they let go of each other, stepping back as if they’d been caught by their parents. 

“Let’s discuss this further in the painted chamber,” Daenerys says. She turns and walks down the hall. 

Daenerys sat at the head of the table with Missandei and I at her sides. Tyrion and Varys sat down as well, while Grey Worm and Jorah stood behind Dany at attention. Jon sat on the other end with Ser Davos at his side and his men behind him. 

“What is the progress on our armistice with Cersei?” Daenerys asks. 

“Cersei has agreed to it, surprisingly.” Tyrion replied. 

“That was easy.” Davos says. 

“She thinks we’re surrendering.” I turned to Tyrion. “Where are we meeting?”

“The old Dragonpit on Visenya's Hill. We’ll bring 300 Unsullied with us, half will be our escorts, the other half will stay by our ships. We’ll also be bringing 50 Dothraki with us.” He replied.

“We did say that we’d bring a small army to King's Landing.” I nodded towards Daenerys. I looked back at Grey Worm. “How were the upgrades to the Unsullied’s armor?”

“They have worked well. The armor is durable and the weapons are light and sharp. The enemy fell easily to us.” Grey Worm, nods, appreciative. 

“Good.” Daenerys says, bringing the attention back to her. “You all will arrive first with our gift while Y/n and I will arrive on Dragonback.” 

“Nope.” I shook my head. Daenerys turned to me, confused. 

“But-”

I shake my head again. “Nope. You need to assert your dominance on Cersei. Only you and Drogon will arrive together while I arrive with the rest. And, try to make it dramatic.”

Daenerys smiled, “I’ll do my best.” She turned back to the others, more serious now. “What is the progress on our travel to Winterfell?” 

“They’re fairing well, Your Grace.” Varys replied. “The servants have started packing all necessary items.” 

“What about food?” 

“We’ve got plenty now that Highgarden is ours.” 

“And for the dragons?” I ask. 

“We’ve filled as much as we can, but I’m afraid it’s not much. Perhaps the dragons can hunt while they’re North?” 

“We’re going as guests to the North and you’re suggesting that we slaughter their livestock?” I raised a brow. “The Northerners are already suspicious of other Westerosi, imagine what they’d think if a Targaryen brought her foreign army and three dragons to eat all their food, they’d never support us then. It doesn’t matter that we’re going to defend all of humanity along with them, the North will remember this. We’re going to defend the North and make nice with them.” 

Varys closes his mouth, looking towards Daenerys, who nodded at what I’d been saying. “I apologize, My Lady, Your Grace. It seems I may have misjudged.” 

I sighed through my nose, averting my gaze to Tyrion. “What about the villages on the island?” 

“The villages on Dragonstone?” 

I nod. “Ask them if we can take a few sheep from their herds, don’t say it’s an order, but as a sign of good luck or support towards Daenerys and her cause.” 

“Why would they do that?” Daenerys asks. 

“The Targaryens and the villagers have had a close relationship for many years. Some villagers are descendants of Targaryen bastards while others families used to tend to the dragons that have lived here. And second, you’re their Lord, anything you say they’ll do, within reason of course.” 

Daenerys seems to go over my words before nodding. “Alright,” she turned to Tyrion, “you have your orders.”

“We should also send ravens to Highgarden, Sunspear, and Pyke. We’re going to need all hands on deck if we’re going to go against the Night King and his army.” I say. 

Daenerys nods. “The meeting is in a few days and we’re set for Winterfell in a few weeks, we can not make any mistakes. This is more than a fight for the Iron Throne, this a fight for the Realm.” 

––––––

“Around eight-thousands Unsullied, nearly fifty-thousand Dothraki, one hundred Ironborn ships, two-thousand men from the Reach, and fifteen-hundred Dornish. That’s what, sixty one-thousand five hundred men?” I read aloud, 

“And Cersei?” Daenerys asks, back to me and facing the window.

I sighed, looking down at the paper. “Around twenty-thousand Lannister soldiers, four-thousand in the City’s Watch, one hundred and fifty Ironborn ships, and if she’s lucky, which I doubt, twenty-thousand soldiers from the Golden Company. Making the grand total, forty four-thousand with the Company and twenty four-thousand without.” 

“She’s out numbers either way.” 

“She is, but that doesn’t mean she’s that less of a threat. Cersei’s forces may be smaller than yours, but she’s strategic and resourceful which is why when we’re in King’s Landing it’s important to keep your head on a swivel, you can’t underestimate her.” 

“Head on a swivel?” She turns, frowning. “Is this another one of your ‘figures of speech’?” 

“Yes, something like that.” I smiled. “But I’m being serious, Dany. Keep your eyes open for anything. It could be a remark or a gesture, you are our number one priority.” 

She nods, sitting down next to me. “What about Jon?” 

“His numbers?” 

“Yes.” 

I turned over the paper, “ten-thousand men from Northern houses, three-thousand Wildlings, and four-thousand Knights of the Vale.” 

“Which means seventeen-thousand in total.” She adds up. “Making my total forces seventy eight-thousand five hundred soldiers. How many would I lose after fighting the Night King?”

“Half at best. All of them at worst.” I stretched my back. “From what I remember, it’s estimated that he has almost two hundred-thousand in his army.”  

Daenerys looks at me, bewildered, “How are we supposed to win if she says no? We'd be greatly outnumbered.” 

I placed a hand over hers. “Well, for starters, we have three dragons, and once we’ve slain the Night King the rest of his army will fall. So the quicker we can shank him to death, the better our numbers.” 

She sighs, squeezing my hand. “It seems all you’ve been doing as of late is comforting me when I should be comforting you. You’ve fought in battle after battle, yet you don’t seem all that affected.” 

“It’s no big deal.” I gave her a small smile. 

She studies my face, frowning. “What is it?” 

I looked away, contemplating. “I had a dream the night before we’d arrived at Eastwatch. I doubt that it was a Dragondream, or it would have come true, or it was me remembering the future, but I dreamt about it.”

“What was it?” 

I faced her fully, grabbing her hands. “Originally, Jon and his men were supposed to go to Eastwatch. Once they’d gotten the wight, they were surrounded by the Night King and his army. Jon had sent one of the men with him back to send you a raven of what was happening. You and all of your dragons arrived to rescue them, but while fleeing the Night King threw a spear at Viserion, killing him.” I felt Daenerys’ grip on my hand tighten. “The rest of you managed to escape, but then the Night King resurrected Viserion and turned him into a wight. After that, he used Viserion to melt down the wall and march south.” 

Daenerys lets out a shaky breath. “But now he doesn’t have him, so he won’t be able to march south, right?” 

I shrugged. “In theory, but we live in a world of dragons and the undead walking.” I sighed, rubbing my face. “The Wall and him are made of the same magic, his is just darker, I guess? His sole reason for being alive is to cause destruction and plunge the world into a long and bitter winter. He’ll find a way south, it may take him some time, but it will happen.” 

She nodded, taking the information in as well as anyone would in her situation. 

“Hey,” I said. “No frowning, come on. We have a big day coming, so no frowning, okay?” 

She smiles, nodding. “Alight, no frowning.”

“So,” I smiled, my tone lighter. “How are you and Jon doing?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied quickly, turning away from me. 

“Oh, yeah?” I laughed. “Then that little scene in the courtyard was nothing? The way you two looked into each other's eyes.” I leaned in, placing my chin on her shoulder, looking over at her. “They way you two affectionately held onto each other's hands.” 

Her face turned red. “He was merely swearing his allegiance to me, nothing more.” 

“Uh-huh. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you two fancy each other?” 

“Jon likes me?” She quickly turns, trying her best to hide her smile. 

I huffed. “For someone who has nothing going on with him, you sure do look happy that he’s attracted to you.”

She looked like she'd been caught with her hand down the cookie jar. 

“Be honest, do you like him?”

She tried to hide her smile, looking down at her lap. “Yes.”

I smiled. “Finally, she admits it. I’m not against it,” I hummed. “You two would make a good couple, dare I say perfect.” 

She gasped, face red. “Alright, enough. Go, shoo, leave me be.” 

I laughed, getting up. “Fine, fine. But I’m not wrong. Maybe you should put some thought into it.” 

a/n: i know i'm horrible for updating late (like always), but i was soo stressed from shopping and packing everything that i kinda forgot about it ngl. but who cares lol.

i've suddenly gotten a bit more motivated to write some of my other series so perhaps i'll upload that, but it all depends on if the motherlands network allows me to.

anyways, i'll be back with another chapter once i'm back home. see you all!

taglist: @wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia @llynx7 @pookynknowntranger @riley-625-bell @myathegoat @evilunicorns4minions @honeycola-umbra

[willowsnook]

coach's daughter

hii can i get ham and swiss on rye mikes way 🙏

a/n: I wrote this whole thing, forgetting it was supposed to have smut and didn't really feel like it fit. i am sorry :( but I could do a pt. 2 with it if anyone wants it

joe burrow x taylor!reader

just let me in

———————————————————

Joe had known quite a few coaches in his football career and, for the most part, liked them all. They were all good people that he got along with well. Zac was no different when it came to that, but there was one thorn in their relationship: his 23-year-old daughter. 

You did not like Joe Burrow. You didn’t really have a reason not to like him, but you just didn’t. You liked underdogs, always drifting towards the undrafted guys on the team, and he was the opposite of that. It’s not like you were out right mean to him, you just regarded him with cold indifference. Everyone’s infatuation with him made you dislike him more, much to your father’s dismay. Your dad was your best friend, and he had made sure you were by his side ever since you were a kid, which meant that football was also your life. You’d studied sports management at Cincinnati and now worked on the scouting team for the Bengals. You knew you only got your foot in the door because of your dad, but why waste opportunities right in front of you? 

This season had been rough, and you felt it at work and every time you talked to your dad. He was quieter, dejected almost, as he tried to figure out how to move the team forward. It didn’t help either that some players spoke more candidly with the press about the struggles. 

“I’ve done everything I can on the field. Ask the coaches, ask Zac, man, I don’t know,” Ja’Marr told a reporter who asked what could have been done differently after another loss.

The comment made you feel conflicted because, on the one hand, he was right, and you knew football well enough to know that. But on the other hand, it was your dad, and you knew your dad. You know how great of a coach he can be. Leaving the facility that night, you were irritated and, of course, had to run into the one person who you knew would make it worse. 

“Hey,” Joe said as he followed you out the door into the private parking lot. 

“Hey,” you replied, your voice clipped and he sighed next to you.

“Why the attitude? " he said, and you didn’t say anything; you just kept walking towards your car. You’d made it and were just about to open the car when you felt Joe grab your arm, forcing you to turn around. “I don’t agree with what Ja’Marr said.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “You are two peas in a pod. I’m sure you’ve talked about it.”

“We are two different people ya know,” he argued, eyes narrowing. “He’s upset. We all are.”

“I’m upset too Joe, but what the fuck do you want me to do about it right now? I don’t care if you do agree with Ja’Marr, why are you cornering me in a parking lot to tell me that?” You snapped and you could tell he was starting to get annoyed. 

“I was just going to my car but thought it might be a good idea to be nice to you, but I guess I was wrong,” he said, frustrated, and you took a step closer to him. 

“I don’t need you to be nice to me, I need you to do your fucking job on the field,” you shot back. Logically, you knew there was nothing he was doing wrong on the field, but you were too mad to admit that. 

“Tell your dad to do his first,” he automatically said, and you flinched back, eyes blinking, trying to process whether he actually said that. 

“i didn-,” he started but you held up your hand to stop him from continuing. 

“Heard,” was all you replied before turning and getting into your car. The audacity of that man. He stood frozen watching you as you pulled out of the lot, praying that his words didn’t reach your dad’s ears. 

————————————————

You didn’t tell your dad what Joe had said; you were trying to keep anything the press was saying about him away, which was difficult considering he had a phone, but hell, you were trying. The weeks were starting to wear you down, and along with doing your workload, you were carrying a lot of emotional weight for your dad.

The two of you were closer than most dads and daughters, and you saw it as part of your job as his daughter to get him through this. For the past two weeks, you have been doing deep analysis of both games and talking it over with him, highlighting good things and how he could expand on them moving forward. Because of this, you have been running on about 5 hours of sleep each night, less on the weekends when you have to travel for college games.

Clocking in another late night at the facility, you were stopped on your way out by the sight of two people on the field throwing the ball back and forth. Curious, you stepped out and realized it was Joe and Ja’Marr getting some reps in during the cold night.

Ja’Marr noticed you first, jogging over to meet you as you stepped out on the field. Joe turned to see what he was looking at and hesitated as he saw you.

“Late night practice?” You joked with a forced smile.

“Thought it couldn’t hurt,” Ja’Marr said before looking at the ground. “I’m sorry for what I said about coach. I know you aren’t him but I’m sure it didn’t feel good hearing it.”

“It’s alright,” you said, looking at him. “We’re all going through it.”

Joe frowned at your response to Ja’Marr, which turned into a slight pout. “I don’t understand why you bit my head off about this, but you are being nice to him, and he’s the one who said it.”

“He doesn’t irritate me like you do,” you said, rolling your eyes. Ja’Marr smirked, looking between the two of you.

“I don’t even do anything to you,” Joe complained and you shrugged.

“What are you guys really doing out here?” You asked, catching them both off guard. You didn’t miss the nervous glance Ja’Marr gave to Joe so you turned to him waiting.

“I’m worried about my wrist in the cold,” he admitted, bracing for impact of what he imagined would be a million more questions from you.

“Okay. Get on with it,” you said, and Ja’Marr nodded, running back out. You stayed rooted where you were standing, wrapping your arms around yourself to try and keep a little warm. Joe was looking at you, trying to figure out what you were doing, but eventually accepted it. He tugged off his sweatshirt, leaving him in only a tight long sleeve, and handed it to you.

“I’m fine,” you said stubbornly and he gave you a look.

“Put it on,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument, so you begrudgingly slipped the hoodie over your head. You stood watching for about 10 rounds of passing before walking closer to Joe, eyebrows furrowed. He looked at you expectantly.

“You have a problem,” you stated and he stiffened, nervous about what you were thinking.

“It’s my first time doing it tonight, and I think it will feel better if I keep at it. It feels okay now, just a little stiff,” he started off, but you shook your head, stopping him.

“You have a mental problem, it’s not the physical wrist,” you told him and he rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“How could you even know that? You’re not me,” he said and your eyes hardened at his stubbornness.

“Ja’Marr, come here,” you yelled and the receiver jogged over. “Are you getting the same passes you normally get from Joe?”

Ja’Marr shifted nervously, “he’s throwing good passes.”

“That wasn’t the question,” you said, and Ja’Marr finally shook his head no as Joe glared at him. Your eyes softened as you looked back at Joe. “You’re hesitating. Afraid of re-injury, which is completely normal.”

Joe's jaw clenched as he processed your words. He wanted to deny it, to argue that you didn't know what you were talking about. But deep down, he knew you were right. The fear of re-injuring his wrist had been gnawing at him, affecting his performance more than he wanted to admit.

"So what if I am?" he finally said, his voice low and defensive. "It's not like I can just turn it off."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Despite your usual animosity towards Joe, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy. "Look, I'm not saying it's easy. But you need to address it if you want to move past it."

Ja'Marr nodded in agreement. "She's right, man. We've all noticed it, but didn't want to say anything."

Joe's shoulders slumped slightly in defeat and you felt a wave of sadness wash over you.

“We have a team psychologist for a reason,” you said. “No one has to know.”

He nodded and you could tell his mind was reeling. Deciding that it was time to go home you started to lift up the hoodie he gave you but he stopped you.

“It’ll be cold going home, so just give it to me sometime later,” he said, and you nodded. Waving goodbye to Ja’Marr, you headed off the field, your mind focused on a certain quarterback.

———————————————————————

Something was off with you, but Joe couldn’t figure out what it was. You looked tired, he thought, and you weren’t taking jabs at him when he provoked you anymore. It was starting to irritate him mostly because you had figured him out so quickly. He contemplated this as he headed towards Zac’s office, stopping short when he saw you outside of it talking to a couple of assistants.

“I saw the interview this morning. I don’t think he’s seen it yet, so let's try our best to make sure it’s not brought up. I already talked with PR this morning, who is trying to distract away from it.”

The assistants nodded as you finished talking, and everything started to click for Joe. You were trying your best to shield your dad from the negative so that he could focus on fixing the team, but it was clearly taking a toll on you.

He walked into Zac’s office a couple of minutes after you and saw Zac looking over some papers you had just handed him. You gave him a small smile as he entered and turned to leave. Joe sat down, waiting for Zac to dive into the meeting.

“God, this team would fall apart without her,” he muttered and looked up to see Joe, curiously looking at him. “She’s been writing up game analysis from this year with suggestions and whatnot, trying to keep me focused. Maybe the team wouldn’t fall apart without her, but I certainly would.”

Joe nodded, “She forced me to see the team psychologist.”

“I heard,” Zac replied, looking at his quarterback.

“I was surprised, considering it doesn’t seem like she likes me that much,” Joe admitted and Zac laughed.

“Yeah whatever, she likes you more than a lot of the guys here,” he said.

“She’s not very friendly to me,” he said and Zac was amused at seeing an almost pout on Joe’s face.

“That’s how I know she likes you,” he said. “She’s always been like that, putting up a brick wall to guard what she’s feeling or thinking.”

Joe's brow furrowed as he processed Zac's words. He'd never considered that your cold demeanor towards him might be masking something else. It made him think back to your interactions over the past few weeks - the way you'd figured out his mental block on the field, how you'd given him advice about seeing the team psychologist. Maybe there was more beneath the surface than he'd realized.

"I never thought about it that way," Joe admitted. "She just always seemed so... irritated by me."

Zac chuckled. "Trust me, if she truly didn't like you, you'd know it. She's not one to hide her feelings when she really dislikes someone."

Joe nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So you're saying I might have a chance then?"

Zac's eyebrows shot up. "Woah there, did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Joe immediately turned red because he had, in fact, forgotten. He was frozen, thinking about how he had just asked his head coach if he could date his daughter.

————————————————————

The loss to the Steelers broke you. It finally felt like everything was starting to fall apart. After the game, you were silent, staying on the field longer to think. It felt like you were shouldering everyone else’s burdens, and now you were collapsing.

“Have you seen y/n?” Joe heard Zac ask as people were leaving the locker room. “She normally stops by after the game.”

He had noticed that during the season, win or lose, you always walked out with your dad, so this was unusual.

“Do you know where y/n lives?” He asked Ja’Marr, trying to act as casually as possible. Ja’Marr looked up at him with a wide grin.

“Why do you want it?” He asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“No reason,” he replied quickly and somehow the grin got wider.

“I fucking knew it,” he said.

“Knew what?”

“You have a thing for her!” Ja’Marr exclaimed and Joe quickly looked around to make sure no one else was in earshot.

“So what?” He replied, trying to act like he wasn’t rattled.

“Here’s her address, lover boy,” Ja’Marr teased, letting Joe copy it into his phone. “Enjoy your last weeks alive before he finds out.”

Once he had finished at the facility, Joe drove over to your place, admiring the cute little cottage-style house you owned. He knocked on the door, trying to figure out his game plan.

You had just gotten out of the shower and changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt as you headed towards the door. Shocked was an understatement about how you felt seeing Joe at the door.

“Can I come in?”He asked, shivering from the cold. You stepped aside as he came into the warmer air.

“What are you doing here? And how do you know where I live?” You asked, watching him sit down on a barstool and turn to face you.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said nonchalantly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Don’t you have my number?” You countered.

“Would you have answered?” He shot back and you stayed silent while he smiled triumphantly.

“I’m fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “Now leave.”

“Nope.” Joe said staring you down.

You sighed heavily, realizing Joe wasn't going to leave easily. "Look, I appreciate the concern, but I really just want to be alone right now."

Joe's eyes softened as he looked at you. "I get it. But I also know what it's like to shoulder everyone else's burdens. It's not healthy to keep it all bottled up."

His words hit closer to home than you wanted to admit. You felt your defenses start to crack slightly. "What do you want from me, Joe?"

"Just talk to me," he said gently. "No judgement, no expectations. Just... let me in."

You hesitated, warring with yourself. Part of you wanted to maintain the walls you'd built, to push him away like you always did. But another part, a part you'd been ignoring, craved the connection.

"I don’t know how,” you admitted. “I’m so focused on everyone else I don’t think I can understand how I’m feeling.”

“Why?” He asked softly. “Why do you feel like you have to fix everyone?”

His question caught you off guard. You had never really realized it about yourself, but it checked out. You were the friend everyone came to for advice or help fixing a problem. Historically, all your boyfriends had been guys with something you wanted to fix. And now you were spending your time studying games so closely to help your dad fix his team.

“I don’t like things I can’t control, but everything is starting to feel like it’s spiraling,” you said and your voice cracked on the last word. Joe quickly got up and had pulled you into his chest as the first tear hit your cheek.

You stiffened at first, not used to this level of intimacy with Joe. But as he held you tightly, rubbing soothing circles on your back, you felt yourself start to relax. The dam finally broke and you let out a choked sob, burying your face in his chest.

"It's okay," Joe murmured, his voice low and comforting. "Let it out."

And you did. All the stress, the worry, the frustration of the past weeks came pouring out. Joe just held you, occasionally whispering words of comfort, but mostly just being a steady presence.

"I just... I feel like if I can't fix everything, then what good am I?" You whispered.

Joe's eyes softened with understanding. "You don't have to fix everything, y/n. You're not responsible for everyone else's problems or failures.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve been so mean to you.”

“Your dad told me that it meant you liked me,” he said with a small grin. You blushed, burying your head back into his chest. You felt the rumble of his laughter as you burned with embarrassment.

“Why don’t I order us something to eat, and we can watch a movie or something?” he suggested, and you nodded, grateful that he had come. You heard him call a pizza place before he joined you on the couch, choosing to sit right next to you.

You felt yourself relax as Joe settled in next to you on the couch. The warmth of his body was comforting, and you found yourself leaning slightly towards him without even realizing it.

"So, what are we watching?" Joe asked, grabbing the remote.

You shrugged. "Something mindless? I don't think I can handle anything too heavy right now."

"Mindless it is," Joe agreed, scrolling through Netflix until he found a cheesy rom-com.

As the movie played on, you found yourself forgetting about the stress of the past few weeks. Joe’s arm had somehow ended up draped across the back of the couch, and you weren’t sure when, but your head was now resting on his shoulder. It was surprisingly…nice.

“I never pegged you as a rom-com guy,” you teased softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Joe smirked, his voice light. “Don’t knock it. Sometimes you just need a happy ending.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, fighting a smile. “Is that so?”

He turned his head to meet your eyes, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“Yeah, it is. And maybe you need one, too.”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them settling in your chest. There was something so genuine in the way he looked at you that it made your heart race.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for happy endings,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m too busy trying to keep everyone else’s story from falling apart.”

Joe reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just slightly. “Maybe it’s time you let someone else take care of you for a change.”

You felt your breath hitch, the vulnerability in his words sending a warmth through your chest. Before you could overthink it, before you could convince yourself otherwise, you leaned in and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to his lips.

Joe froze for half a second before kissing you back, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently. The kiss was slow and unhurried like he had all the time in the world to show you exactly how much he cared.

When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Guess your dad was right,” Joe murmured, his tone teasing but his eyes filled with something much deeper. “You do like me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face. “Shut up, Burrow.”

pt. 2

[camerahaterlittle]

As the rivalry grows, so does my heart

Real Madrid x Reader

Barcelona Femeni x Reader

Social media au one shot/possible series

Yourusername: life recently! Gone from dates to games can’t complain

Liked by atheeneeaa_10, marisabel_rguez, ingridengen and 2,820 others

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ingridengen: loved our double date

Liked by yourusername

bff1: thank you for making me feel single

↳ yourusername: No problem love

atheeneeaa_10: love seeing you so happy

↳ yourusername: ☺️☺️☺️

marisabel_rguez: who won the uno game

↳ yourusername: me obviously I’m the undefeated champion

brunavilamala: best competition

Liked by yourusername

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yourusername: small getaway absolutely no trouble in paradise

Liked by janafernandez3, ona.batlle, gio9queiroz and 2,100 others

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vickyylopezz._: hmm I wonder who took those pics

↳ esmeebrugts: same do tell who took them

claudiaapina: barcelona’s just better

↳ yourusername: nope madrid is better

cocobatlle: bring scout over I miss her

↳ scoutsworld: I’m coming whether our moms like it or not

alexiaputellas: ❤️💙

Liked by yourusername

madridvsbarca: the outfits always hit

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yourusername added to their story

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yourusername: “yeah i got my girls” you’ve never been more real Rachel

Liked by jennihermoso, alexiaputellas, _cata13 and 1,325 others

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jennihermoso: no photo credits the disrespect

↳ yourusername: now your stealing my saying that’s crazy

alexiaputellas: be safe please

↳ yourusername: how am i supposed to have fun if i’m being safe

↳ _cata13: yeah alexia there’s no fun in being safe

janafernandez3: best day and night of my life

↳ yourusername: agreed I had the time of my life

atheeneeaa_10: I could barely breathe in that last picture

↳ marisabel_rguez: me either I don’t know why we chose to be the firsts on the ground

bff2: remind me to never drink that much again

↳ yourusername: oh but why everyone loved your singing and rants on beth mead

↳ bff1: so much that the uber driver dropped us off five stops before your house

↳ yourusername: literally the best friends ever thank you for helping me forget what they did

gio9queiroz: why wasn’t I invited

↳ yourusername: you said after our last club stop to never ask again since your hangover lasted longer than it should’ve

↳ gio9queiroz: I didn’t mean it I actually had fun next time invite me

↳ yourusername: yes ma’am

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yourusername: I’m a simple girl. I love sharks and fishes.

Liked by bff1, vickyylopezz._, olgacarmona7 and 2,290 others

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olgacarmona7: okay you need to start giving photo credits

↳ yourusername: but why that’s so much more to type

vickyylopezz_.: yet no one to take you

↳ ingridengen: too soon vicky too soon

↳ vickyylopezz_.: sorry thought it was time

gio9queiroz: warning everyone she will talk your ear off about every shark and fish she sees

↳ olgacarmona7: your a little late with the warning gio she talked mine and misa’s ears off

↳ yourusername: I did no such thing you guys willingly listened

y/nswifey: someone take her to an aquarium now! or take her to a place that let’s her swim with sharks

↳ yourusername: I wish but no one will take me

alexiaputellas: why are you so interested in these underwater creatures

bff2: I’m still surprised that you chose being a footballer over being a marine biologist

↳ yournameuser: being marine biologist is my backup career

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alexiaputellas: thank you to whoever got her this shark you put a smile on her face tagged: yourusername

Liked by claudiaapina, esmeebrugts, albaps9 and 2,789 others

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claudiaapina: where’s my shark plushie

↳ yourusername: clearly the person only likes the calm ones

↳ claudiaapina: hey! your anything but calm

ablaps9: only y/n would be so happy about a shark plushie

esmeebrugts: I wonder who got her that plushie

↳ vickyylopezz._: same I wonder if they’ll continue with this shark stuff

ingridengen: at least she’s smiling right

Liked by alexiaputellas

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Sorry for the super short fic this is just to get me started on here anyways who do you guys want to be the love interest I was thinking Gio but it's up to you guys