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nana-gumi · 8 months ago

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my heart belongs to.. who? g.satoru

pairings: gojo satoru x fem! reader

cw: heavy angst, mentions of death, mentions of cremation, depression, starvation, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of self-harming, please read at your own risk!! NOT PROOFREAD AGAIN HELP (i'm sleepy alr but i want to update TvT)

a/n: here's the part two of the 'anyway, don't be a stranger.' yes the title has changed. also based from a song a piece of you by nathaniel constantin. that's all, enjoy reading ;) PLS NOTIFY ME IF YOU HAPPEN TO SEE TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS!! THANK YOU <3

now that you had lost your only strength to continue living, what should you do now?

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satoru doesn't know why something in him ached when he randomly spotted his best friend, his dear best friend, suguru with you, on a random place and at a random time.

your backs were turned to him but he surely didn't like the way you cling to his best friend, it hurts him in many ways he couldn't explain but, satoru knew too well that he doesn't have the rights to feel that way, that's because every pain and sorrow that has happened to his life would be different if he didn't do that one big mistake.

ever since the divorce, satoru never saw you again. you left and none of the people you knew where you've gone to. satoru thought it was for the best that you should be away from him because the moment he feels vulnerable again, he would look for your presence, even though you weren't together anymore.

although sometimes, satoru do hope that you didn't run away from him. he wanted to fix everything, to apologize, to try things with you again. he never wanted anyone other than you. you were the only person that could see his other sides, the only person who knew him very very well, the only person he wanted to grow old with but everything was too late already.

he shouldn't have listened to you when you pushed him away and there, he would've never saw the pain look in your face when both of you separated your ways, he would've never saw the way you tried to stop yourself from crying infront of him, and he would've never saw the way you accepted to keep your wedding rings so desperately as if he would still be around you if you keep it.

satoru regretted every decision he made up until now, it was all of his fault, it was his fault why you had to leave, everything was his fault, you didn't have a choice because of him and he hoped that you've already forgave him for that. he really hoped so.

because of the heavy thoughts, satoru didn't know why his feet brought him to his best friend's apartment. maybe to ask how you were doing? are you still single? do you have a new lover now? was it suguru? are you both dating? oh gosh, he hoped not. it could be anyone but his best friend.

"(name) trusted you with it suguru, you shouldn't break your promise." satoru suddenly stopped on his tracks. that was shoko's voice, he was sure of it.

"but, don't you think he still has the right to know? satoru's the father after all."

"you're right though but—"

"what did you just say?" both eyes were widened at the sudden appearance as satoru revealed himself from hiding as he went closer to his best friends.

"when did you—"

"i'm the father? what do you mean?" satoru asked as he furrowed his eyebrows and suguru looked away from him. satoru could recognize the worried look of his best friend's face. "shoko?"

"well.." she mumbled, looking at suguru.

"are you hiding something from me?" satoru asked.

"it's not like that—" shoko said.

"then why do you both look nervous?"

"satoru." suguru called as he felt shoko's hand stop him and she shake her head left to right. "i'm sorry, but he needs to know."

"needs to know what? come on."

"satoru, you had a child, with (name)." and he couldn't be more surprised as he looked at suguru, lost and confused.

"what?"

"yeah, unfortunately, sanyu is—"

"stop." satoru said as he placed a hand on his temples. "is this some kind of prank? therefore, it's not funny."

"satoru, i'm not lying." suguru said, his expression blank.

"no. that's— that would be impossible.."

"go talk with her, satoru. heh, in the end, i couldn't keep my promise to her, huh?" suguru said as he placed a hand on his nape. "i'll send you the address, go." and satoru didn't waste any more time as he walked towards the front door but suguru stopped him again. "satoru." he called and suguru almost laughed at the worried and somehow excited look on his best friend's face. it's been a while since he saw that.

"what?" satoru said, cleary annoyed and impatient as suguru lightly smiled at him.

"be gentle with her, she's still vulnerable." satoru didn't get what suguru meant by that as he finally left, following the map where suguru had sent him.

you knew this day would've eventually come as you stand face to face with your ex-husband, he was panting and you were just about to go back home from the convenience store.

"(name).." he whispered your name as he took a step close to you, another one, and then another one as he started sprinting, embracing you in his arms and no one knew how much he missed feeling you around his arms. you let him embrace you but you stopped yourself from doing the same thing, you just stood there.

"why are you here?" you asked as satoru pulled away, his sleeve flying on his eyes as he slightly rubbed it. he was about to tear up.

"is it true?" satoru asked and he hoped you get what he meant with the question as you slowly nod your head.

"let's go inside my home first. it's getting cold here. i'll tell you everything there."

and there both of you ended up inside your home as satoru quietly inspected the surroundings. there was your picture and his son hanging on the wall.

"here." you said, handing him a glass of water. "i'm guessing suguru told you?"

"no. i actually overheard them."

"i see."

"so, where's.. um— can i see our child?" he asked and your heart ached at his question. you thought suguru told him already?

satoru didn't know what to do you when you started sobbing as you covered your face with your palms.

"you can't." you mumbled, wiping your tears as you look down on your lap.

"i understand.. but if you're—"

"you can't, satoru. we can't—"

"i know. i know you still don't trust me but i promise i will—"

"he's gone, satoru! don't you understand it? he's gone, he's dead, we can't see him anymore!" you exclaimed. everything was just overwhelming and you didn't mean to yell at him. "i'm sorry." you mumbled, once again, covering your face with your hands as you cry.

you felt his presence beside you as he wrapped his arms around you. he didn't know what else to do and satoru thought being close to you will help, being close to you will maybe help his almost shattering soul.

"i'm sorry." satoru said as he felt your arms around him. was this suguru meant when you were still vulnerable. he should've asked suguru to be more clear so there, satoru would know how to comfort you very well.

"i'm sorry, satoru. i kept him away from you when he wanted to see you. i should've pushed aside my own feelings and let sanyu meet you but i just couldn't, and now guilt is eating me up. it's my fault he couldn't see his papa on his last days. it was his last wishes but—"

"shh, stop it already. it's okay. don't blame yourself."

"i'm really sorry." no. satoru told himself he doesn't deserve your apologies and thinks everything was his fault to begin with.

"it was my fault that i couldn't be there for you. for our son. i deserve all the blame." satoru said as you slightly pulled away from him as you wiped your tears.

"it's not your fault either. sanyu was born with a weak heart. i couldn't protect him with that, no?" you said as you placed your hands on your lap.

"when we met at the parking lot, was that?.." you nodded your head in response as you recalled that day.

"that was the day after sanyu died." you mumbled and satoru couldn't help but clench his jaw. if only he knew.

satoru snapped out of his thoughts when he felt you sit up from the couch as you kneeled infront of the small table, taking something beneath it as you went back beside him.

"come, i'll show you his pictures." you said as you smiled at him and satoru couldn't help but mirror you. just for now, maybe you both could be happy, even just for now.

"he even cut his own hair, look!" you exclaimed, pointing a certain picture as satoru laughed with you.

he missed a lot things. when you were carrying his child, when his son was born, when his son was growing up. he wasn't there to witness everything and he almost– no, he regrets it so so much.

"i almost dyed his hair black 'cause he reminds me of you so much." you sighed as you closed the album, finally reaching its end as you place it on the table.

"we really do look like each other." satoru said as you lightly smile at him.

"you're not wrong." you responded and suddenly, it became silent.

"i'm sorry (name)." he started as you stayed still in your position. "i tried looking for you." he continued as he held your hand on his with you still avoiding to look at him. "why didn't you tell me before?" he said and that's what made you look at him. is he seriously asking you that?

"i don't know, satoru. do you?" you asked and he was completely taken aback.

"you should definitely go home now, someone might be waiting for you.." you said as you stand up from the couch, only for him to stop you by your wrist.

you looked at him for a moment and he did too. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out as your hand slowly slipped out of his grasp and you turned your back at him.

"if you want to know more about sanyu, just ask."

it's been a week since you and satoru talked things out. it felt good to be able to talk everything with him. you thought at some point that satoru will hate you even more for not informing him about his son's existence but it was the opposite.

and maybe, you shouldn't have stalked his social and there you wouldn't stumble on his ex' account, because you never knew that it would hurt you this much, that it would hurt your already, broken heart.

you felt some type of jealousy seeing his family be happy in those pictures. they even went on a trip, on different places and many more. satoru looked happy. maybe if those mistakes were prevented back then, it would be you, him and sanyu.

there were missed calls and unread messages from suguru and shoko but you didn't have the energy to reply to each of them.

you just wanted to lay in your bed all day, almost wishing that sanyu would knock at your door asking for a help with his assignment, but no, it wouldn't happen anymore. you were all alone now, you'll never be able to feel happiness again, everything felt too empty for you to feel any type of emotions except for sorrow.

your eyes slowly opened when you felt something cold in your forehead.

"you're finally awake."

"what happened?" you asked as you tried to sit up from the bed, only for satoru to push you back.

"don't stand up yet. you passed out on the living room. you've been sleeping for a day already. are you eating? don't starve yourself." he talks too fast that you almost didn't catch his words.

"why are you here?" you asked.

"well.. i guess i want to know more about sanyu." he said as he hesitantly looked at you. "i'm sorry for walking around your house without your permission but, i saw a small shrine on the room beside here. is that sanyu's?" satoru asked as you nod at him.

"i forgot to tell you but i had sanyu cremated."

"okay, i understand."

"you can visit him anytime if you want."

"that would be great. thank you."

satoru did visit once a week. you noted that it was always on thursdays, just like suguru had told you that satoru's always available on thursdays.

your house would be messy if satoru wasn't around but if you knew that he'll be visiting, you'll force yourself to clean the house. you didn't want him to see you in worst state again, not anymore. he didn't have to know that you were starving yourself, that you would only eat when he brings you food.

he doesn't need to know. not that he would care, right? satoru is not in the position to care for you after all. he only visits for his son, it's wasn't because of you. maybe you should stop being delusional and face the reality that satoru and you couldn't work together anymore. he already has a family on his own. he has nothing to do with you anymore. a part of you is still hoping though but then again, he doesn't need to know.

there was a time where satoru visited you on tuesday. it was unexpected that he caught you almost hurting yourself. house and room messy.

it hurts him to see you like this. he couldn't help but to compare the old you to the you now. a big difference. he doesn't see you smile anymore. he doesn't hear your laugh anymore.

"you needn't to hurt yourself, okay? tell me if i can help in any way." he said as you sit on the couch, knees close to your chest as you stare at nothing.

your thoughts was playing with you because all of the sudden, you recalled everything that has happened between you and satoru. his mistakes, his wrongdoings, his happy family. your blood started to boil and you couldn't help but blame him in your mind. that it was his fault why sanyu have to suffer.

"hey, i know it still hurting you but—"

"you know nothing!" you exclaimed which took him off guard. he was unfamiliar with that look in your face.

"(name), calm down." he said as he tried to reach for you, only for you to slap his hand away.

"shut up! don't order me around! can you just leave my house?" you yelled. "this is all your fault." you mumbled and satoru heard it loud and clear. you weren't wrong though. "leave! i don't want to see you anymore. i hate you."

and even if you push him as many times as you want, satoru would not lose hope. he still visits you and sanyu. though he took note of the changes in your mood sometimes.

satoru visited late than usual. you already fell asleep on the couch. you swore you weren't waiting for him or something. it just happened that you got tired from the cleaning the house.

after the usual visit of you and satoru in your child's room both decided to eat the food he brought.

"sorry i was late. i had a hard time choosing a ring—" he cuts off himself with a fake cough as he looked away from you. "anyway, sorry for making you wait."

"it's fine. thank you for bringing me food."

"of course."

today, you seemed a lot more good now. satoru can notice you smile everytime. he didn't want to assume that you're smiling because of him though.

"is there something wrong?" he asked when he noticed you staring at him.

"i'm fine. thank you for visiting." you said as you walked satoru at the front door. "oh wait." you said, walking back to your room as satoru stood still on the front door and you went back after a minute.

"take this." you said, handing him a certain necklace.

"for me?" satoru said, taking the necklace in your hand.

"i asked them to put a little bit of sanyu ashes inside. you can't open that anymore since they locked it." satoru's eyes widened at your words.

"thank you." he said as you smiled at him.

"here, let me help." you said, as you wear the necklace on him. "sanyu will always be by your side, wherever you are." you said as you smiled and suddenly, satoru turned around, his face was too close to you and you think he could almost hear on how loud your beating heart is.

you awkwardly took a step back as you cleared your throat to ease the awkward tension.

"thank you (name), really. i will treasure this." he said as you smiled at him, for the last time.

"sorry for yelling at you sometimes, satoru."

"don't worry, i understand. just let me know if you want to release some stress. i'll try my best to help." he said and despite of answering, you only smiled, again.

"thank you, satoru. sanyu was the best son i could ever have." you said and he suddenly placed a hand on your head. like how he always does before as he leaned to your level.

"thank you for raising our child." he said as you look at him with widened eyes and you couldn't help but frown as you place a hand close to your chest.

stop giving me false hope, satoru.

"take care." you couldn't help but tear up as you whispered those words as satoru left. be happy, always. even if it's without me.

"i had a hard time choosing a ring." you mumbled, mimicking his words.

you smiled but what you were feeling inside was opposite. maybe you shouldn't expect too much because in the end, if reality didn't reach your expectations, it'll just hurt you more.

it really hurts to think that you made a man for another woman but, it is what it is. you're just glad that satoru seemed to cherish his new family now.

he did changed a lot, huh.

"satoru."

"be quick, suguru. i'm a bit busy right now." satoru said as he heard his best friend sigh at the other line.

"did (name) said something to you?" satoru immediately sat properly on his office chair when he heard your name.

"nothing much. she gave me a necklace though, why?"

"i see. look, if you have time today come in her house."

"why? what happened?"

"do you have a time today, at least?"

"i guess i could try." satoru said. "is there something wrong with (name)." satoru asked and there was a long pause from suguru's end before he answered.

satoru went back from what it seemed like a long trip as he sat on his office chair.

he stared at a certain velvet box on his table. his black glasses was discarded as he lightly move the office chair left to right.

he did had a hard time choosing a ring. he doesn't know of you still like the same design. did you change your preferences?he doesn't know that's why satoru bought a limited edition ring for you. he was told that the ring brings luck and now he just wanted to throw the ring in the middle of an ocean.

"brings luck my ass." he muttered. he was too tired to think. he refused to believe suguru's words because he just saw you 2 days ago. was suguru playing pranks on him again?

"she's been found in her room. unalive." suguru's words kept repeating inside his head like a broken radio as he clutched the necklace on his hand.

he was supposed to ask you to start over again, to try things out again, from there, he swore that he wouldn't do the same mistake again but it was all too late now.

maybe the universe didn't want you and him to be together again that's why they took you away from him, his son too. he knew he did mistakes back then but was it too much that they have to take his family away forever?

yeah, this must be his punishment for doing those unforgiving things to you.

"suguru, do you think (name) would agree if i ask her to start over again?"

"there's nothing wrong with trying, satoru, but know that people tend to change. don't be surprised when she doesn't want you in her life anymore." suguru said as his best friend kept quiet. "but what about them?"

"who?"

"your ex and your son."

"i couldn't care less about her, but i still cherish sanyu since he grew up with me, even if he's not my legal child."

"you don't really want to tell (name) about it?" suguru suggested and satoru couldn't help but think if he could do what his best friend is suggesting.

"what's the point? will it change everything?" satoru mumble, an ache going straight to his chest. "it hurts for me to say this but i only accepted to raise sanyu because i couldn't stop thinking of (name), of having a family with her. i forced myself to believe that he's our son. i didn't even know that (name) is actually carrying our child."

"why don't you just sue your ex for paternity fraud?"

"there's no point in it. she's still sanyu's mother."

"you're too nice, satoru."

no, he wasn't. in fact, he almost sent his ex to prison but he couldn't stop thinking of how sanyu will react if he found out that his mother was sent to jail by his father. he was too young for those things.

but satoru asks himself, why? why does he have to do these things? why does he have to think of how sanyu would feel? they weren't relatives anyway. he could take everything he spent for raising sanyu, he could just leave them to live their own life, but he just couldn't do it.

"if only i could go back in time." satoru mumbled and suguru didn't know what do respond to that anymore. if only.

tags: @skylarlyn823 @mo0nforme @mor-pheus @he4rts444mi @bubblysunwoosworld @arieltate @imaniitheoneee @kaiiriiis @ichikanu @witchbybirth @yoimiya-m @hojoslutoru @itsvalomfg I COULDN'T TAG THE OTHERS SORRY TvT

#nana.gumi #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #satoru angst

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mclarenviolet · 1 year ago

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Cherry Wine

Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Brief mention of blood/hunting, shameless flirting and a smidge of fluff

WC: 500+

A/N: Continuing the trend of naming my Astarion fics after Hozier songs because the combination is ✨chef's kiss✨ As always I try to keep reader gender neutral but as I haven't proofread this one particularly well please let me know if there's any slip ups!

You enter the firelit camp after your evening bathe in the nearby river, glad to have washed away the intense grime of the bog you'd been traversing for the last few days. You cast your gaze over to where Astarion lounges against a log, wine bottle in hand, his crimson eyes already fixed on you with a mischievous glint.

"Well, well, well," he purrs, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "If it isn't my favorite person in this whole wretched world."

You roll your eyes, failing in your attempt to hide your smile from the handsome vampire. "Spare me your flattery, Astarion. I might just faint from the shock."

He chuckles, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. "Oh darling, your heart can surely handle a few well-placed compliments from time to time."

You settle down beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "And what makes you so certain that I'm not immune to your charms?"

Astarion leans in closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "Because, my dear, I've seen the way your cheeks flush whenever I grace you with my presence."

You fight back a laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grins, his gaze smoldering as it meets yours. "Ah, but you love every bit of it."

You feign exasperation, throwing up your hands in mock defeat. "Fine, you win. I'm utterly captivated by your snark. Happy now?"

Astarion's laughter is low and melodic, "Delighted, actually."

As the night wears on, the camp grows quiet, your companions settling down in their tents, undoubtedly exhausted from what felt like endless days of battling amidst that miserable bog. Astarion however stays firmly planted by your side, silver hair seemingly glowing in the moonlight as he stares up towards the stars.

"You know," his tone soft, "despite my 'snark' as you so eloquently put it, I really do quite enjoy our time together."

Your heart skips a beat as his playful façade gives way to a vulnerability that takes you by surprise. "I know." your voice equally gentle.

He leans slowly towards you, gaze meeting yours once more, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "And if I were to do something that's shockingly out of character, would you be too surprised to stop me?"

Your breath hitches as his fingers brush against your jaw. "I guess we'll just have to find out."

And with that, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss fueled by weeks of teasing and flirtatious banter, of stolen glances and lingering touches.

Astarion's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his fingers tangling in your hair. You can taste the coppery tang of whichever creature he hunted earlier mingled with the cherry wine he's been leisurely sipping on all evening, a mixture you find unexpectedly intoxicating.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both pull away, breathless and dazed. Astarion's confident smirk fades into a genuine smile, his inquisitive eyes searching yours.

"Surprised?" he asks, his voice a low whisper.

You grin, all too aware that Astarion's keen hearing must be picking up the way your heart pounds in your chest. "Very."

He leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back. "Well, my dear, prepare to be surprised more often."

A/N: Welcome to another episode of Violet doesn't know how to end her fics 😌 Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated as always 💕

#I am so deliriously tired after writing this lol #I am off to bed #Hope y'all enjoy 💕#astarion x gn!reader #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate iii #baldur's gate 3

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lynn-w3st · 11 months ago

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MK: Preference One Shot #4

Prompt: Syzoth, Johnny, Raiden, Liu Kang, Rain, Bi Han, Tomas, and Hanzo react to the reader having a confident flirtatious and sassy personality like Bayonetta. Bonus Noob Saibot.

Note: This was requested from my dear bestie @khaotic-kris. I hope you enjoy it and I was more than happy to make this for you 😊🥺.

This took a long time to make but I’m very honor and happy to make this. So sorry if some of these came out to inaccurate, I tried my best but if you have questions please message me.

Raiden

This precious pookie is so down bad for his mommy (Y,N). He blushes deeply when you tease him but admires how confident you are.

He would literally do ANYTHING for you. Raiden often wonders how he landed with such a magnificent woman like yourself.

You often tease him when you both would be having a friendly spar in the academy. Johnny teases him badly when he is caught staring at you. (Please let him marry you.)

Raiden gets super flustered when you flirt with him and often tries to flirt back but your mommy rizz is to much for him.

Aside from all the teasing and flirting, you have a very strong and unbreakable bond with him as you are willing to go through hardships and obstacles to protect him.

Raiden worries for you as he knows that you hate being emotionally vulnerable in which he reminds you that it is ok to seek help as he’s willing do anything for you.

This precious pookie would do anything for you and his deep unconditional love for you is what makes him train harder and vows to always protect you and make you happy.

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Liu Kang

This man is precious and a gentleman. Please he gets super flustered when you tease him or jokingly flirt with him on random occasions.

Liu Kang doesn’t really know how to handle a woman of that caliber such as yourself but he is respectful and caring towards you.

He is such a gentleman towards you it’s so adorable. Gets shy when you flirt with him to rizz him up but he is extremely loyal.

This man immediately notice your fake behavior by trying to act sassy to cover up your emotional vulnerability. Please this man will remind you that it is ok to show emotions and to let yourself be vulnerable.

Liu Kang will support you and show you how much he loves you and how much he cares even when he’s busy as an Elder God.

He admires your overprotective attitude towards him and to others as you are willing to go through hell to protect those you love.

This adorable pookie is a gentleman and a softly because he’s willing to always protect and shower you with his unconditional love.

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Zeffeero (Rain)

Zeffeero admires your confidence since he’s also confident and a bit arrogant himself. He is old school will court you the old fashion way.

Rain will actually flirt back at you but in a formal and romantic way. He is Outworld’s best mage so he is immediately courting you by sending you love letters and flowers.

He loves the way you tease others and admires your sassy attitude as he finds it very attractive when you use your rizz.

Zeffeero will show you his magic and often do little shows with it to make you smile and laugh just for you because he’s in love.

Since you are a powerful witch yourself, Rain would often ask if you don’t mind training him so he can admire your skills.

He notice how much you would cover up your emotional vulnerability by putting up a fake sassy behavior but will remind you that it is ok to be vulnerable and seek support.

Rain loves you so much as he is willing to support you and will do anything for you.

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Syzoth (Reptile)

Like Raiden, Syzoth is deeply in love with you but often times he wonders why would you fall in love and marry with a freak monster like him.

This cutie of a man get so flustered easily as he deeply loves you with all his heart and often gets scared that you would get taken away from him like his previous family.

Szyoth would get extremely flustered and cover his blush face when you flirt with him and shower him with kisses and cuddles.

Please he would do anything for you as he is afraid to lose you to and often tells you that he’s will be there for you all the times.

Johnny teases the hell out of him when you flirt with him. He deeply admires your confidence and headstrong attitude.

Syzoth deeply worries for you as he sees how much you dislike being emotionally vulnerable and often reminds you that he is there for you and will do anything for you.

To say the least Szyoth can’t image a life without you as you are his world and new purpose. He loves you and will protect you

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Tomas (Smoke)

This pookie cinnamon roll is in love with you that it’s so wholesome and adorable. He loves his strong and confident princess and is a good boyfriend to you. Biggest green card ever.

Tomas gets extremely shy and flustered when you tease him occasionally. This man will blush super madly that smoke (no pun intended) will come out from his body.

This man will do anything for you and often admires your confident and sassy attitude as it lightens up his day after feeling down.

Smokey bear treats his princess with lots of love and care. Often makes you relax as he cooks, cleans and tends to your needs. You both would cuddle in each others arms.

Madam Bo (Granny) playfully teases him when he would take you on a date to her tea house. She is proud of her baby boy.

Often worries for you when you try to hide your emotional vulnerability as he wants to help you and is willing to share your burden.

He admires your fighting skills and has heart eyes when you would take down your enemies. His loyalty to you is unbreakable as he is willing to go to the end of the world just for you as he wants spend his life with you and hopes to start a family of his own.

Johnny Cage

Knowing his cocky and arrogant personality this man has a huge mommy kink for you. (He doesn’t mind you stepping all over on him.)

Johnny will literally worship the ground you walk on. This man is such a big simp to you that he is willing to do ANYTHING for you.

This man will constantly posts about you on social media like it’s not even funny. He is so super down bad for you that he gets extremely blushy and hot when you flirt.

Star boy here would faint at the amount of teasing and flirting he gets from you. Your mommy rizz makes him feel so blushy.

Please this man desperate for his mommy that he is puppy material when you save his life and vows to treat you like a Queen.

Aside from his simp behavior, Johnny is a good partner and often makes you feel safe and comfortable by making dinner or giving you loads and loads of hugs and soft kisses.

Johnny loves your sassy nature but often gets worried as he notice that you dislike showing emotional vulnerability which he reminds you that he is supporting you and that he’s willing to help you out in anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bi Han (Sub Zero)

Like Johnny, this man secretly has a mommy kink. The Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei is a simp for a strong and loyal woman like yourself that is the only one fit to rule by his side as his wife.

Bi Han will lowkey get a bit erotic when you flirt and tease him. This man is secretly a mommy worshipper he’s down bad for you.

He admires your confident personality and fighting skills. Worships you by treating you like an empress and gifting you expensive gifts for you like jewelry, clothes and etc.

The Grandmaster will not allow anyone to disrespect you and show them how much you mean to the Lin Kuei. He will kill for you and gets jealous when you tease others. (He gets rizz up by your teasing nature.)

Expect a lot of heating and intimate private moments between the two of you. Let’s just say he makes sure to show you who you belong to by marking you as his.

Bi Han would shower you with love and affection and does secrets services by massaging you after a long mission or simply cuddling with you in his arms.

He may not be very good with emotional support but he’s is willing to tear the world apart if someone threatens you and won’t rest until that poor bastard is dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hanzo Hasashi (Scorpion)

The new Grandmaster of the Shirai Ryu would be both in awe and down bad in love with you. You better believe this man is on cloud nine.

This man is so in love that he gets flustered when you tease him in front of his students. He will make sure to punish you for that 😉.

Hanzo admires your confidence and loyalty and often finds your sassy nature attractive.

He knows how you hate being emotionally vulnerable so he remind you that it is ok to be vulnerable and he’s always there for you.

His students often tease him when he would get flustered when you flirt with him, this man has a bit of a mommy kink for you.

He gets a bit hard when take down the enemies and use your flirtatious skills to seduce your enemies for any information.

Hanzo loves you with his whole being and is such a gentleman towards you and will do anything for you like cooking dinner, giving you a massage or simply cuddling with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus: (Something extra)

Noob Saibot (Bi Han)

Just like his counterpart, this man has a very big mommy kink for you. He sees you as his beautiful goddess and will gladly serve for you.

Like I said, this man will be like Johnny and have a massive mommy kink towards you. This man will and would mark you as his.

Bi Han gets erotic when you flirt with him or tease your enemies in front of him as he felt himself get extremely possessive of you. He gets jealous and would get extremely hard.

This man will literally worship the ground you walk on. He is such a big simp to you that he is willing to do ANYTHING for you.

Expect a lot of heating and intimate private moments between the two of you. Let’s just say he makes sure to show you who you belong to by marking you as his.

Noob Saibot would gladly serve you and would deal with anyone who dares to use your emotional vulnerability against you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you guys enjoy and this took very long to make so I’m deeply sorry if some characters came out inaccurate but I did tried my best.

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aspoonofsugar · 9 months ago

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Hi! Where do you think Alastor's arc is going? Redemption or villainy?

Hi!

Thank you for the ask, I loved watching Hazbin Hotel and I am happy I can write for the series :)

As for now, I think Alastor will spiral and hurt Charlie very badly, but he will eventually redeem himself (probably in a key moment). That is because Alastor is framed as Charlie's Jungian shadow.

What is the Jungian Shadow?

According to Jung, the shadow is what a person represses, both positive and negative. So, it can be one's violent tendencies, but also one's potential and energy. It really depends on the person.

So, why does Alastor fit the Shadow Archetype? Well, first of all:

Alastor's powers make use of shadows. Not only that, but Alastor's own shadow is very expressive and shows the demon's repressed feelings. In other words:

On the one hand Alastor embodies the shadow, in the sense he represents what Charlie refuses to face

On the other hand Alastor himself represses his emotions behind a smiling face:

Alastor: Just because you see a smile, don't think you know what is going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing and ensures tha no matter what comes your way, you're the one in control.

This is a good characterization for a jungian shadow because the shadow grows stronger and more dangerous, when it's ignored. So, the most one refuses to face their feelings, the most these feelings fester and grow powerful and dangerous. This fits Alastor both when it comes to others and to his own character:

He takes advantage of an emotional unstable and vulnerable Charlie to strike an abimguous deal with her. Similarly, he uses Husk's gambling addiction to steal his soul. He uses people's weaknesses an unsolved problems to take over.

He suffocates his feelings, which symbolically manifest in his powerful shadow-tentacles. His design and abilities are representative of his psychological coping mechanism, which is nothing, but repression.

As written above, though, the Jungian Shadow can be both negative and positive depending on what one hides. This duality is shown in Alastor's two roles in Charlie's arc:

He is a demonic archetype (even moreso than Lucifer, the titular devil), as he waits in the shadows for a chance to manipulate Charlie

He is an evil mentor, as he genuinelly likes Charlie, sees her potential and wants to guide her towards greatness:

She's filled with potential that I could guide

This isn't a contradiction, but complexity. Alastor is chaotic and mixes negative traits and intentions with positive ones. Just like what people repress can be both bad and good, usually at the same time.

This is clear when it comes to the Princess of Hell:

Charlie to Alastor: What's that you said about smiles?

Charlie is similar to Alastor in how she represses herself behind her pollyanna persona and her smile. This doesn't mean she is faking her altruism and generosity, but that she is using these traits to hide something else:

Lute: The only reason you're still here is that Daddy gave you and your Hellborn-kind a pardon from an exorcist's blade. How does that feel? To know how little you matter.

Deep down, Charlie invests herself in the Hazbin Hotel project because she wants to matter. She feels powerless and unimportant, as a result of her parents' neglects and of Hell's difficult situation.

So, our protagonist has strong self-issues that she refuses to face:

Husk: Princess is a bleedy heart who wants to solve everybod else's problems, 'cept her own.

That said, this isn't the only thing Charlie represses. The Princess of Hell hides:

Every negative emotions she feels, like her self-hate or her anger at Vaggie for hiding her true identity:

Rosie: How does that make you feel? Charlie: Just... angry? Because we share everything! Because she always supported me, and my ideas, and now I don't know whether or not that was just more of the lies... Oh no, that's a horrible thing to think! Do I think that? Yes! No? Kinda?

Her most violent and aggressive side, which makes so she is unable to make full use of her powers:

Vaggie: Well, I mean... You're the princess of Hell, but you don't really use the power that comes with that. Mybe you can, I don't know? Command a little more... authority. Charlie: But that's so mean.

In short, by repressing her negative feelings, she also represses her potential. It is only by facing herself as a whole, that she can fully grow and bloom into her most powerful and complete self:

This is made clear in Charlie's quest in Cannibal Town. There, our girl is at her lowest, but she is pushing herself forward for the sake of her loved ones. She is trying to imitate Alastor by smiling, even if she is sour inside. However, things do not go well and it is only through her heart to heart chat with Rosie, that Charlie is able to pull herself together and inspire her people. Symbolically, she gets through them not with a 100% optimistic song like "Inside of every demon is a rainbow". Rather she opens her speech, by showing vulnerability and honesty:

It's a feeling like a rumbling in your gut That you could finally be faced with A billion needy faces I guess what I mean to say is For the first time in my life I might have to be ready for this Ready to be the one who's leading from the front Gotta come into my own Gotta come into my throne Gotta take charge and defend my only home And although I kinda feel unsteady Now I need to be ready for this

She affirms who she is and her willingness to grow into herself:

For the first time in my life Maybe I can be ready for this I can be the marshal leading the parade I can come into my own And I think I've always known My destiny could never be postponed When Adam brings the battle here I must appear like I'm ready for this

So, it is only by tapping into her own shadow that Charlie can be successfull. It is through expression and not repression that she can reach her goals.

What about Alastor?

He is the same, but so far he has been refusing to open up to others:

Angel: He's been here a while and he's still a big, creepy mystery.

That said, his time at the Hazbin Hotel has had an impact on him. He is forced to deal with others without killing them:

Vaggie: Pentious's eggs are all over the place. I need you to get rid of them. (...) Humanely!

He is shown cutting ties with a poisonous friend:

He openly admits he likes the people of the hotel:

Alastor: Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed.

However, he still refuses to openly show vulnerability and ends up like this:

Let's highlight that Charlie and Alastor are foiled in The Show Must Go On song.

Both stand in the ruins of their homes/dreams.

The Hotel:

I took a hotel, and I destroyed it I know I could have done better Better, instead of letting you down

The Radio Station:

This place reeks of death There's a chill in the air And I barely escaped being killed by a hair

And both decide not to give up and to keep pursuing their objectives. However, Charlie is framed positively, while Alastor negatively. Why?

Charlie sings about her feelings openly and is supported by her father and found family:

Alastor sings about his pain privately and even then he barely shows his desperation before going back to his villanious mask:

Symbolically the moment Alastor reunites with the Hotel Crew, he sings:

And we're doing it with a smile!

He is back in control of himself, ready to hide everything behind his neverchanging smile.

So, Alastor is both Charlie's negative foil and Jungian Shadow. As her negative foil, he is bound to spiral. As her Jungian Shadow he is bound to be saved. Why is that so? Two reasons.

The Jungian Shadow can't be killed, but needs to be integrated with.

The main themes of the series are redemption and love, so it is improbable that Charlie won't help the person, who co-founded the hotel with her.

If anything, it seems that our princess is progressively asked to forgive, inspire and see the good in more and more complex cases.

It starts with Angel, who willingly stays at the Hotel. It goes on with Pentious, who infiltrates the Hotel, but makes no real damage. Then Lucifer, whom Charlie loves, but that has been absent from the majority of her life. Finally, Vaggie, who breaks Charlie's trust.

Each conflict Charlie has challenges her in a different way and helps her discover herself and grow. She is bound to meet new struggles when Lilith becomes a broken pedestal and finally when Alastor betrays or hurts her. Still, she is going to forgive and to understand them.

Charlie is going to see the good in Alastor and to better understand herself as a result. As a matter of fact Charlie's journey is one where she is slowly discovering a world, which isn't black and white:

If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie If angels can do whatever, and remain in the sky The rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again

Just like people aren't black and white. Just like she herself isn't black and white. By saving Alastor, she is gonna save herself too. Together with the whole universe.

And what about Alastor? Well, he needs to work on himself, as well. He too must integrate with his shadow, who is embodied by a certain character:

Husk is a powerful overlord, who lost his soul to a demon. Just like Alastor:

Husk: Big talk for someone, who's also on a leash.

Alastor and Husk are both on a leash. Still, Husk admits it and starts working on his shortcoming:

Husk: You're a loser, just like me

Alastor instead affirms his willingness to be in control and to pull the strings:

Once I figure out how to unclip my wings Guess who will be pulling all the strings?

Alastor is a loser, just like Husk. Just like all the characters in hell. Sinners vs Winners. And yet, he refuses to admit it. This is why he makes no progress. Similarly, he wants freedom, but enslaves others. This isn't going to work out, which is why I am fairly certain he will eventually set Husk free. Probably by doing so, Alastor will make the first real step towards his own freedom. He will start integrating his own shadow.

Thank you for the ask!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel meta #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie morningstar #my meta #asksfullofsugar #anonymous

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f14fun · 3 months ago

Text

pixelated love (!simmer x mv1) - chapter 8

synopsis: in which the famous three time world champion max verstappen wants to learn how to play the sims 4. except, he doesn't really know how to. so what does he do, search up a youtube tutorial. low-and-behold, y/n's video is the first he watches.

smau + prose (8.4K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ prev | next | series index ˚୨୧⋆｡

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જ⁀➴✎ ❛❛Y/N's POV❞

The funny thing about catching feelings is that you never know when the walk becomes a stroll, then a jog, and eventually turns into what seems like a never-ending chase.

It’s a flurry of emotions, each step more fervent than the last. At first, you might think it’s just a casual stroll—something light and easy, just taking in the sights and sounds. But then, it evolves into a leisurely walk, where you find yourself more invested, more attentive to the nuances of the path you’re on.

As you get more involved, the pace quickens, and suddenly, what was once a gentle amble has turned into a brisk jog. Your heart starts to race, and every moment feels charged with potential and possibility. The thrill of the chase sets in; you’re no longer just moving along the path but running towards something that feels both exhilarating and daunting.

And just when you think you’ve reached the peak of intensity, the chase turns into a marathon. The emotions swirl around you like a storm, sometimes exhilarating, sometimes overwhelming. It’s as if you’re in a never-ending pursuit, where every stride is driven by hope, fear, and anticipation. It’s a whirlwind of highs and lows, where the finish line seems perpetually just out of reach.

The moment I truly felt my peak of intensity was the moment that I landed in Nice, France, ready to embark towards my ultimate destiny: Being the ultimate Monacan WAG. If you truly believed that last statement, dear reader, I must call you gullible.

Anyhow, the Nice Côte d'Azur Airport had welcomed me with open arms, giving me the twenty kilometer leeway of relief before I was due in the beautiful Principality of Monaco.

And don't get me wrong, but I was scared.

The facade that I put up everyday on stream, on social media, was only a fraction of who I really was. I was left wondering to myself in the hours leading up to meeting Max, "Would he really like me for who I was? What if this was one humongous joke I was apart of, and I was doomed to be the laughingstock?"

Arriving in Monaco, surrounded by its opulence and charm, only heightened my feelings of vulnerability. The grandeur of the setting made my personal fears feel even more pronounced. Would the real me, with all my imperfections and uncertainties, measure up to the expectations set by the facade I had carefully crafted online?

To be put simply, I was only a girl. And I really, really, really hoped that multimillionaire Dutch Formula One racer Max Emilian Verstappen would take pleasure in meeting me.

I had texted Max how I should meet with him, nonchalantly, of course. But on the inside, my palms were sweaty. I was nervous. In person, I wouldn't say I was the best flirt. I was more like that one twelve year old boy at the pool trying to impress a friend group of sixteen year old girls.

I fumbled on my words. I tripped. I missed. I blushed. I ran. I wept about my mistakes, and kept thinking what the absolute fuck did I just say? Why did that just come out of my mouth? I am stupid. I am so stupid.

Simply put, I didn't have much rizz.

Honestly, if I could headbutt myself, I definitely would. I had set myself up for utmost failure for acting like a confident prick, over text, over stream, and over Twitter. I acted like I had it all together, but in reality, if a tall, handsome guy were to actually approach me, you’d see me stumbling over my words and turning into a nervous wreck.

It was pathetic, really.

And oh my gosh, dear reader, if you had seen the look on my face when I had Googled Max Verstappen for the first time...

It was shameful, I will admit.

Learning that he stood six inches above me at his 5'11" stature... I was blushing in the comforting shadows of my bedroom, fearfully gripping my phone, as if Max himself was going to suddenly appear in my room and catch me red-handed, shamelessly watching edits of him.

Hiding under the covers at two am before a long day at work, and pondering if his big, big, bicep muscles from holding a steering wheel all day could eventually hold me in his comforting grasp. Daydreaming, in the middle of meetings with high-end game-development executives, if I could sudden run into his chest and have him hug me until I couldn't breath. Wondering, if I could sit on his thighs one day, and using his veiny hands, he could hold me by my waist and his steamy breath talk into my ear.

Yeah, I get no bitches and I'm horny.

It's pretty obvious to y'all at this point. Don't be a mean girl and judge, though.

And with all of these thoughts, I am not afraid to think them. In the shower, making dinner, watching him race...But it was all put in perspective when I stood outside of his apartment door, waiting for him to let me into his home.

It felt private. Intimate. Different, than all the displays of affection and joyous laughter we shared with the public.

But now I was in the comfort of his home. No prying cameras (at least I hoped that there were no hidden cameras), away from the never-ending watchful eye of the public.

The first thing I noticed about him were his eyes. They were a piercing, greenish, blueish, grayish color—a mix of the sea and comets, a blend of colors I couldn't quite put my finger on.

It was like they held the depth of the ocean, the intensity of a storm, and the mystery of the cosmos all at once. In the soft light of the doorway, they seemed almost otherworldly, drawing me in with their enigmatic allure.

Many people online had said that these eyes were constantly hardened, a result of years spent racing under intense pressure, dealing with tough words from his father, and the unwavering support and strength he garnered from his sister and mother.

They were eyes that had seen the highs of victory and the lows of defeat, that had faced criticism and expectation head-on, and had come out stronger on the other side.

These eyes told a story of resilience and determination, of someone who had been through the wringer and had emerged with a steely resolve. The internet was filled with tales of his focused, almost intimidating gaze on the racetrack, where every glance was calculated and every blink was a strategy.

They spoke of a man who had to grow up fast, who had to build walls to protect himself from the harsh realities of his world.

But when he looked at me, I could swear that I saw them soften.

They drew me in, and for a moment, I knew I could write poetry about them. There was a story in every shade, every flicker of light within those eyes. I could imagine penning verses about their depth, their history, and the way they seemed to hold entire worlds within them.

Suddenly, all my nerves and the fear of being a fumbling, awkward mess seemed to dissipate, at least a little. There was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel seen, like he was looking past the persona and seeing the real me. It was a mix of relief and disbelief, like maybe, just maybe, this wasn't going to be the disaster I had built up in my head.

I had never believed in the saying, "love at first sight", but I could've sworn my heart skipped a beat, if not multiple, when I locked eyes with him. Like I predicted, he was a tall, tall, man. And I, like a lot of people in this world, was not immune to the charm of a tall man.

"Oh, you are very tall," I blurted out.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. The words had slipped past my tongue and out of my mouth, bypassing the more sensible part of me, aka my brain. Damn you, stupid weak heart.

I could feel my face heating up, a wave of embarrassment washing over me. Out of anything I literally could have said, my intrusive thoughts had gotten the best of me. My inner voice was screaming at me to pull it together, but it was too late. The words were out there, hanging awkwardly in the air between us. My poster slumped slightly, there was literally no way to recover this. I desperately needed to find a galvanized stainless steel block to bash my head against repeatedly.

Max chuckled softly, a sound that somehow made me feel a bit more at ease despite my flub. "And you must be Y/N," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Welcome."

Taking a deep breath, I tried to regain my composure. "Yeah, that's me," I said with a small, nervous laugh. "Sometimes when someone makes me hella nervous, it just happens, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" I started, but he cut me off gently.

"I make you nervous?" He smirked at me. "Well I didn't know that."

Okay. Cut the cameras, deadass. I quite literally felt like I was a main character in that weird-ass phone game Episode (yes, my guilty pleasure at three am but nonetheless a fun hobby to have) It was like one of those cliché moments where the charming love interest says something flirty, and the protagonist’s heart skips a beat. Except this was real life, and my heart was doing somersaults.

I could feel my face heating up again, but this time, there was a small part of me that felt… excited? Maybe this wouldn't be a complete disaster after all. Trying to play it cool, I flashed a shy smile. "Yeah, well, you're pretty intimidating in person," I said, hoping to keep the conversation light.

"I cannot believe you said that, I'm just a really big cuddly bear," Max laughed at me, opening his arms out for a hug.

For a split second, I hesitated, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. But then, the warmth in his eyes and the genuine smile on his face melted away any remaining nervousness.

Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his strong yet gentle embrace envelop me. It was like being pulled into a cocoon of safety and comfort, his presence immediately soothing the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

As we hugged, I felt the tension in my body start to ease. His arms were warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the anxiety that had been gnawing at me since I landed. In that moment, it felt like all the awkwardness and worries faded into the background. It was just the two of us, sharing a simple, sincere connection.

The hug lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to make me feel grounded and welcomed, a silent promise that maybe this really was the beginning of something special.

And I did believe him, that he was just a really big cuddly bear. His laugh was warm like honey, and I could definitely get used to hugging those biceps and burrowing my head in his chest, like a teddy bear. All I could think of was the moment I whipped out my phone to get on Twitter I would tweet, #needthat.

What???

I'm just a girl.

"You're really fucking cute," Max suddenly stated, his soft voice interrupting my daydream.

Wait wait wait what?? Backtrack please?? Did Max Verstappen just call me cute, as he leans on the fucking doorway and I can see his biceps bulge as he-

Noticing my shocked expression, and my jaw must have been hanging out for a considerably long time without responding, he started to laugh at me.

"I hope I was the first person to tell you that today," He continued.

"Y-you certainly were the first person to say that, oh my," I sputtered, a creeping blushing arising from my neck and blossoming onto my cheeks.

Max's eyes sparkled with mischief as he stepped closer, closing the distance between us. "Well, it's about time someone did," he said, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "I've been looking forward to this moment for a while, you know."

I swallowed hard, trying to regain my composure. "You have?" I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. The bold, flirtatious Max standing in front of me was a stark contrast to the more reserved person I knew online. It was disorienting, but also incredibly intriguing.

This side of him was magnetic, drawing me in with a mix of confidence and playfulness that I hadn't anticipated. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the realization hitting me that the dynamic between us had shifted entirely.

Online, I had always been the one with the witty comebacks and cheeky comments, but now, standing here in his presence, I felt like I was discovering a whole new dimension of our connection. His boldness was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, making me wonder just how many other surprises he had in store.

"Absolutely," he replied with a grin. "Seeing you now, in person, you're even more stunning than I imagined." He leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving mine, and I felt my heart race faster with every passing second.

"Oh, wow, um, thank you," I stammered, feeling my shyness take over. It was surreal—here I was, the one who had always been confident and playful online, now reduced to a blushing mess in front of him.

Max chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the role reversal. "You know, I always found your confidence online really attractive," he said. "But seeing you like this, all shy and flustered... it's pretty adorable too."

I bit my lip, trying to steady my nerves. "Well, you were always the cool, mysterious racer," I said, attempting to regain a bit of my former bravado. "It's kind of unfair that you're also charming in real life."

He laughed, a rich, warm sound that made my heart flutter. (And I could swear I could hear hundred dollar bills when he laughed) "Guess we both have our secrets," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I have to say, I kind of like seeing this side of you."

"Yeah?" I replied, feeling a small surge of confidence. "Maybe you'll see more of it, if you keep being this sweet."

Max took a step closer, his presence enveloping me like a warm blanket. "Oh, I plan to," he said, his voice low and intimate. "Getting to know the real you is something I've been looking forward to. Online was fun, but this...this is so much better."

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks again, but this time it was mixed with excitement. "Well, you better keep up the charm then," I teased, trying to match his playful energy. "I'm not that easy to impress, you know."

He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Is that a challenge?" he asked, leaning in slightly, his proximity making my heart race even faster.

"Maybe it is," I said, my voice daring but my insides turning to jelly. "Think you can handle it?"

Max grinned, his confidence unwavering. "Oh, I know I can," he said smoothly. "And by the end of this trip, you'll see just how serious I am."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of anticipation and thrill coursing through me. The flirty banter, the unexpected boldness, and the undeniable chemistry between us—it was all so intoxicating. As I looked into his eyes, I realized that this was just the beginning of an adventure that was sure to be full of surprises and unforgettable moments. Spending time with Max felt completely different from any of my past relationships.

There was a new air about him, a different kind of electricity that sparked between us. Unlike the fleeting attention I had received from past lovers, who barely gave me a minute of their day, Max's presence was all-encompassing. He made me feel seen and valued in a way I hadn't experienced before. Each moment with him was charged with genuine interest and warmth, making me feel like I was the only person in the world.

The thought of what lay ahead made my heart race with a mixture of nervousness and exhilaration. I knew that being with Max would be an experience unlike any other, a journey where we would both reveal our true selves and create memories that would last a lifetime.

Don't call me naive, dear reader, because in the moment, it truly felt that way to me...And I really hoped that he felt the same too.

"Alright then," I said, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. "Game on."

Max's smile widened, and he extended his hand. "Game on," he echoed, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me as our fingers intertwined.

"Come on in," he said, leading me into his apartment.

As soon as we stepped inside, I realized that 'apartment' was an understatement. The place felt more like a huge penthouse rather than the modest apartment he had made it out to be. It was luxurious yet still quite plain and humble, a reflection of Max himself. The high ceilings, expansive windows, and elegant but understated furniture gave it a sense of grandeur without being ostentatious.

The living area was open and airy, with floor-to-ceiling glass doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking, a sprawling panorama of twinkling lights and distant landmarks that seemed to stretch endlessly. Despite the grandeur, there was an inviting warmth to the space. The furniture, though minimal, was meticulously chosen—sleek modern lines with plush, comfortable seating that suggested a home where one could truly relax.

As we moved through the apartment, I noticed the subtle details: a few well-placed art pieces, not too many, just enough to add character without overwhelming the space. The kitchen was state-of-the-art, with shiny countertops and high-end appliances, but it was evident that Max wasn’t a chef—there were no intricate gadgets or utensils, just the basics. The sparse decorations spoke volumes about his personality: practical and unpretentious.

"Wow," I said, looking around in awe. "You really weren’t kidding when you said you had a big place. This is incredible."

Max shrugged, a hint of embarrassment on his face. "Yeah, I guess it’s a bit bigger than most apartments," he said with a sheepish grin. "But, as you can see, I didn’t exactly go all out on decorating. I’m not really into interior design and don’t have a clue how to make it look... well, more 'homey.'"

I laughed, finding his modesty endearing. "Well, if you ever want to change that, I’m your go-to person," I offered playfully. "I could definitely give this place a bit more personality."

"Oh, really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "And what if I said I might be more inclined to actually spend more time here if you did?"

I grinned, feeling a spark of excitement at the prospect. "Challenge accepted," I said. "I’ll have to draw up some design ideas for you. Just don’t be surprised if you come home one day and find your place looking like a completely different world."

Max chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Are you saying you’re going to turn my penthouse into something out of a magazine?"

"Something like that," I replied, trying to keep a straight face. "But with a touch of ‘Y/N’ flair. I promise it won’t be all pink and sparkles—unless you really want it to be."

"I think I'd rather die," He rolled his eyes, making me a victim of the sassy man apocalypse. Letting out a sudden bark of laughter, my eyes widened, surprised at the ugly ass noise I just let out.

"Wait no I take it back, it would be way better if I just paint it neon green and tweeted #BratSummerTakeover," I laughed.

"This is way worse than the pink what the hell..." Max laughed at my antics. Finally, he was matching my freak!

"Honestly, CharliXCX and Brat Twitter would probably save you if you got canceled, just because you made your apartment Brat themed," I countered, eye brows raising and daring him to challenge me.

"What would I even get cancelled for? Being too devilishly handsome, maybe," He asked, smirking at me.

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, and I knew I was blushing a lot. "Well, maybe," I stammered, trying to regain my composure. "Or for making girls like me turn bright red with just a few words."

Max's smirk widened, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. "I think I could live with that," he said, his voice low and teasing. "But seriously, I like seeing this side of you. It's cute."

I blushed even more, trying to deflect the compliment with humor. "Well, you might get canceled for making me turn this red," I quipped, feeling a bit bolder. "And for having terrible taste in decor. Honestly, who wouldn’t want a neon green penthouse? It’s the height of fashion."

Max shook his head, still laughing. "Okay, okay. Maybe we should stick to something a bit more... timeless. How about a black and white theme? Classic, elegant, and less likely to blind anyone who walks in."

I pretended to consider it, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, that could work. But only if we add some gold accents. You know, to bring out the sparkle in your eyes."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Gold accents, huh? You really think my eyes sparkle?"

"Like diamonds, just like that one Rihanna song," I said, batting my eyelashes and throwing my hands up in a dramatic fashion. "But seriously, I think we can make this place look amazing. Just trust me."

Max smiled, his gaze softening. "I do trust you. And I’m actually looking forward to seeing what you come up with. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything," I said, leaning in closer, our hands brushing against each other again. I was literally going bonkers from the sexual tension between us two, and I wasn't sure how long I could take it for the next week, before the dam overflowed. And trust me, I don't mind if this dam overflows. Wink wink.

"Promise me you won’t turn it into a jungle. I don’t think I could handle that much greenery," he said with a playful wink.

I laughed, nodding. "Deal. No jungle theme. But I can’t promise there won’t be a few plants. They add life, you know?"

Max grinned, shaking his head in amusement. "Alright, a few plants I can handle. Just no turning my place into a botanical garden."

I gave him a teasing look. "You never know, a few well-placed ferns could really spruce the place up. Besides, they say talking to plants helps them grow. Maybe it’ll work wonders for you too."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Are you implying I need help growing? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve hit my growth spurt."

I laughed, feeling more at ease with each playful exchange. "No, just that a little greenery might make this place feel more like home. Plus, it could give you someone to talk to when you’re not racing around the world."

"Well, if you’re around, I’ll have plenty of company," he said with a wink. "And maybe you can teach me how to take care of them without killing them."

"I’d be happy to," I replied, smiling. "But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to choose some low-maintenance plants. Wouldn’t want you to feel overwhelmed."

"Thanks," he said, his tone sincere. "I appreciate that. But seriously, it’ll be nice to have you help me make this place feel more like home."

"Anytime," I said, feeling a warm glow from his words. "Just promise you won’t get any bright ideas about adding a racecar in the living room."

Max chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "No promises. But I’ll try to restrain myself."

He glanced at my luggage and then back at me. "Let me help you with those," he offered, moving towards the pink suitcases. "I’ll take them to the guest room."

As he picked up the bags, I couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he handled them. The way his muscles flexed under his shirt made my heart race. It was impossible to ignore how strong and capable he looked, making even the heavy suitcases seem weightless. Every movement seemed to highlight his athletic build, and I found myself momentarily distracted by the sheer physicality of him.

He had insisted on me staying at his apartment for the seven days I was in town, refusing to let me book a hotel. "You’ll be more comfortable here," he had said on our phone call earlier, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was sweet, really, and incredibly sexy watching him take charge like this. The thoughtfulness behind his actions made me feel special and cared for in a way that I hadn’t experienced before.

As he carried my luggage, I couldn't help but admire the ease with which he moved, the definition in his arms and shoulders evident with each step.

I followed him down the hallway, my eyes shamelessly glued to his back, watching the way his muscles shifted beneath his shirt. Each step he took seemed to exude confidence and strength, a silent testament to his physical prowess. I couldn't help but admire how the fabric of his shirt clung to his form, accentuating every line and curve of his well-toned physique.

God, I could talk about his slutty little waist for days. The little fancams they showed on F1TV or YouTube did not do it justice. Seeing him in person, the way his waist tapered into those perfectly fitted jeans, was a whole different experience. It was mesmerizing, almost unfair how well his physique was sculpted.

As he walked ahead of me, the fabric of his shirt stretched taut across his back and narrowed at his waist, highlighting the lean, athletic build that had become a defining part of who he was. It was the kind of detail that fans like me only dreamed about, and here I was, witnessing it up close.

I was such a lucky little bitch.

My mind wandered to the countless hours he must have spent training, not just in the gym but on the track as well. It was a different kind of dedication, one that went beyond what most people understood. There was something undeniably attractive about a person who was so committed to their craft, and it only added to the allure that Max already possessed.

As he led me into the guest room, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was Max Verstappen's personal space, a glimpse into the life of someone I had admired from afar. The room was spacious and inviting, with large windows that allowed natural light to flood in, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere.

Max set my bags down gently and turned to face me, his expression softening. "There you go," he said with a warm smile. "If you need anything, just let me know. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Max," I replied, giving him a grateful smile. "I really appreciate this."

Just as I was about to say more, Max’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and frowned slightly. "Sorry, I have to take this," he said, holding up the phone. "It’s important."

"Of course, no problem," I said, waving him off. "Take your time."

Max nodded and stepped out of the room, his voice already lowered as he answered the call. Left alone, I took a moment to absorb my surroundings. The bed looked incredibly inviting with its crisp, clean sheets and plush pillows. The journey had been long, and I could feel the fatigue weighing heavily on me.

Without much thought, I kicked off my shoes and sank onto the bed, the mattress soft and supportive beneath me. The room had a calming aura, and despite my excitement, my eyelids grew heavy. I lay back, letting out a contented sigh as I nestled into the pillows.

The last thing I remembered was the distant murmur of Max's voice from the hallway. The day's exhaustion finally caught up with me, and within moments, I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, completely at ease in the unfamiliar yet comforting space.

જ⁀➴✎ ❛❛Max's POV❞

I couldn’t wait to see her cute face after my phone call.

Ever since she showed up at my door an hour ago, luggage in hand and blushing like mad, I knew I wanted to hold her in my arms and never let go. The way she looked so overwhelmed and charmingly nervous had struck a chord with me. But now, here I was, stuck listening to Lando Norris ramble about his trivial girl troubles when all I wanted was to see her again.

Lando’s voice was like a buzzing fly in my ear, and I found myself tapping my foot impatiently, wishing he'd get the hint and stop talking. His high-pitched voice grated on my nerves as he continued his endless rant about the latest drama in his life. I loved the guy, but seriously, this was not the moment for his soap opera.

“—and you would not believe what she said to me next,” Lando’s voice droned on, each word feeling like a needle in my brain. I barely registered his complaints, lost in my own thoughts about her.

“Max! Are you listening to me??” Lando’s voice suddenly pierced through the fog of my thoughts, making me flinch slightly.

“Mhm...” I trailed off, barely processing the words. My mind was focused entirely on her, on how she looked when she first arrived and how peaceful she appeared when I last saw her.

“Oh, what the bloody fuck mate, you’re not listening. Whatever, I'll talk to you later,” Lando said abruptly. Before I could respond, I heard the familiar click of the call ending.

“Hallelujah,” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes in relief. The endless chitter-chatter had finally stopped, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

“Oh, what the fuck,” I suddenly exclaimed, realizing that I had wasted enough time. I should be up and finding my houseguest—my possible future wifey—and spending more time with her. I shot up from my seat, a surge of excitement propelling me forward.

The house had been unusually quiet since I’d gotten off the call, and I was eager to see what she was up to. Maybe she was scrolling through her phone, or perhaps she was just getting comfortable. I tiptoed down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb the calm atmosphere of the house.

As I approached the guest room, I could hear nothing but the soft hum of the air conditioning. My heart skipped a beat as I slowly opened the door, peeking inside to see what awaited me. The sight that met my eyes was unexpectedly delightful. There she was, nestled in the bed, having kicked off the fluffy house shoes I’d given her. Her luggage was neatly set aside, and the room was serene, illuminated by the gentle late afternoon light filtering through the curtains.

Her position on the bed was both endearing and surprisingly casual. She had managed to kick the blankets off completely, leaving them in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. The sight of her sprawled out, so relaxed and at ease, made me pause. She looked incredibly peaceful, her hair spread out like a halo around her, and her cheeks were slightly flushed.

My beautiful girl was tired.

A soft smile crept onto my face as I approached her. It was clear that she was deeply asleep, her breathing even and steady. I carefully grabbed the blanket from the end of the bed, making sure not to disturb her. The blanket was warm and soft, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room.

In her sleep, she shifted slightly, letting out little breaths.

As I gently draped it over her, I couldn’t help but notice how cute she looked in this vulnerable state.

The way her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were closed made her seem even more endearing. She had a certain tranquility about her that was utterly captivating. It was a rare and precious sight, and I felt a surge of affection just watching her. Her presence in my apartment, in my space, felt strangely comforting and intimate.

I adjusted the blanket carefully, ensuring it covered her snugly. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, which made me breathe a sigh of relief I didn't realize that I had been holding. I took a moment to appreciate how serene and beautiful she looked. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept was calming to observe, and it made me feel even more connected to her.

I lingered in the doorway for a few seconds, letting the peaceful scene sink in.

In that moment, I really wanted to be her boyfriend. Even though I had just met her in real life a mere forty minutes ago, I wanted to give her everything that she wanted and deserved.

I imagined us spending more time together, exploring new places, and sharing our dreams and fears. I wanted to be the person who made her feel special and loved, who supported her in all her endeavors and celebrated her successes. The thought of being that person for her was more appealing than I’d ever expected.

It wasn’t just about the romantic gestures or grand declarations; it was about the everyday moments of care and attention. I wanted to be there for her in the small, meaningful ways—like making sure she was comfortable, listening to her stories, and sharing in her joys and struggles.

Don't call me naive, but I really, really, really like her.

જ⁀➴✎ ❛❛Y/N's POV❞

In my dreamless state, I could still remember a few things. Like the warm breath of someone hovering over me. I could feel watchful eyes on my back, curious, worried, then relieved. I remember feeling gentle hands pulling my blanket from the foot of the bed to my shoulders, gently covering me.

And when I woke up, I really questioned whether what I felt was a dream. In my room it was silent, almost no trace of whether someone was there or not.

The only anomaly was the fact that before, I had completely shut the door. Now, the door was left ajar, a tiny sliver of the hallway could be seen from where I was propped up in my bed.

Yawning, I could hear the soft hum of the ongoing AC in my room. But if I listened a bit more, I could hear the whirring of the range hood in Max's kitchen further down the hall.

He was cooking?

Wow. Call me surprised.

A few days ago when we called on Discord, he had narrated a few cooking horror stories that had happened to him.

I remembered one particularly gruesome story he shared, one that sounded like it came straight out of a sitcom. It was supposed to be a simple pasta dinner. Max had invited a few friends over, and in his eagerness to impress them with his culinary skills, he decided to make everything from scratch.

(I know, I know, he told me he wanted to have his little Nara Smith moment...I'll give it to him, I guess)

It started with the sauce. He had carefully selected ripe tomatoes and fresh herbs, determined to make the best marinara his friends had ever tasted. But things quickly went downhill. First, he accidentally doubled the amount of garlic. Not a huge issue, right? Just a little more flavor. But then, in his attempt to balance it out, he added way too much salt. Desperate to fix it, he threw in some sugar, which somehow made it even worse.

Next came the pasta. Max had repeatedly watched one Nara Smith video of her making fresh pasta and he figured it couldn’t be that hard.

News flash, incorrect answer buzzer.

He miscalculated the flour-to-egg ratio, resulting in a sticky, unmanageable dough. By the time he managed to roll it out, the dough was uneven and tearing. When he finally got it into the pot, it clumped together into a gooey mess.

Meanwhile, the kitchen was descending into chaos. The range hood was whirring at full blast, struggling to keep up with the smoke billowing from the pan. In his panic, Max forgot to turn the stove down, and the sauce began to boil over, spilling onto the burner and creating a scorched, acrid smell that filled the entire apartment.

Then came the final straw. Max decided to make garlic bread as a last-minute addition. He put it in the oven and got so distracted by the pasta disaster that he forgot about it entirely. By the time he remembered, the bread was more akin to charcoal, emitting a foul, burnt odor that overpowered even the smell of the burnt sauce.

His friends (He told me it was Lando, Daniel, and Carlos) arrived just in time to witness the aftermath. The kitchen was a war zone, with sauce splattered everywhere, clumps of dough sticking to various surfaces, and smoke lingering in the air. The range hood was doing its best, but it was no match for the chaos Max had created.

His friends tried to be polite (Well maybe Daniel and Carlos did but Lando certainly was not), but the horrified expressions on their faces said it all.

Max ended up ordering pizza, and the story became an infamous legend among his friends. They still teased him about it, making jokes about his "gourmet" cooking skills whenever they had the chance.

It was quite a funny story, as Max had vlogged the whole thing, originally wanting to use the video footage as evidence that he could actually cook.

That's fucking hilarious, if you ask me.

When he showed the video footage, I was quite literally cracking up. I swear I had never laughed as hard as I did in my life when he showed me it.

Remembering that story now, I couldn’t help but smile. The fact that he was back in the kitchen, despite that disastrous experience, said a lot about his determination.

And maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. I decided to get up and see for myself what he was up to, hoping that I wouldn't walk into another kitchen catastrophe.

On that account, I found myself to be, again, very much wrong.

It smelled funny in the kitchen.

There was a peculiar mix of something burnt and something…well, unidentifiable. As I approached, the smell intensified, and I began to worry. I rounded the corner to find Max standing over the stove, looking flustered. Smoke billowed up from the pan, and the range hood was struggling to keep up.

"Max, what on God's green earth are you doing?" I asked, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice. I was also, clearly failing at that too, as a hitch in my voice gave away what I was truly feeling.

Dear reader, I was about to burst into a torrential fit of laughter.

He glanced up, his face a mix of sheepishness and determination. "I was trying to make fried rice with beef and onions, but...uh, things aren't going as planned."

I raised an eyebrow. "Clearly. What happened?"

He sighed, waving a hand at the pan. "Well, first, I realized there wasn't much food in the fridge to begin with. I found some rice, a bit of beef, and an onion. Seemed like enough for a simple dish, right? But then the beef started to stick to the pan, so I added more oil, which made the onions cook too fast and burn. And now the rice is clumping together and sticking to everything."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Max, you are a disaster in the kitchen. This is even worse than the pasta incident."

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know, I know. But I wanted to impress you. Clearly, I'm failing miserably."

I walked over and peered into the pan. The beef was charred in some spots and raw in others, the onions were practically disintegrated, and the rice looked like a sticky, burnt mess. "Impressive isn't exactly the word I'd use," I teased.

He grinned, despite the chaos. "Hey, at least I'm trying, right? That's got to count for something."

I shook my head, laughing. "It counts for effort, sure. But maybe you should stick to ordering takeout."

He gave me a mock serious look. "Or, you could teach me. You're the one with the design ideas. Maybe you have some cooking tips too?"

I pretended to think about it. "Hmm, I suppose I could. But only if you promise to listen and not improvise."

Max chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. "I promise. No more kitchen disasters."

I smiled, feeling a warm rush of affection. "Alright, let's see what we can salvage here. First things first, let's get rid of this burnt mess."

As we started cleaning up, Max kept sneaking glances at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know, I didn't just burn the food on purpose to get you to come out here and help me, but it's a nice bonus."

I rolled my eyes, playfully nudging him with my shoulder. "Nice try, Verstappen. But if you keep burning things, I might have to take over all the cooking."

"Deal," he said, his grin widening. "As long as you stay."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, and I couldn't help but smile. "You're lucky I'm a sucker for a cute guy who tries to cook."

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "And you're lucky I'm persistent. Now, let's make something edible before we both starve."

I glanced at the pitiful remains of our attempted fried rice. "Or," I suggested, "we could go to the grocery store and get some proper ingredients. Maybe start from scratch with something we can't mess up."

Max's eyes lit up with excitement. "A late-night grocery run? That sounds like a great idea. It's only 8 PM; we've got plenty of time."

I smiled, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of a spontaneous adventure. "Alright then, let's go. But first, let me change out of these pajamas."

Max grinned, leaning a little closer. "Deal. I'll clean up here while you get ready. But you know, you look pretty cute in those pajamas. Maybe we should make it a pajama party instead?"

I rolled my eyes playfully, feeling my cheeks warm. "Nice try, but I think I'll stick with something a bit more appropriate for public."

Max chuckled. "Alright, but don't keep me waiting too long. The sooner we get to the store, the sooner we can start our culinary masterpiece."

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, now it's a culinary masterpiece? You have high hopes, Mr. Verstappen."

He shrugged, flashing a charming smile. "What can I say? I'm an optimist. Plus, with you by my side, how could it be anything but perfect?"

I laughed, shaking my head as I headed to the guest room to change. "We'll see about that. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Max's voice followed me down the hall. "I'll be counting the seconds, chef."

After changing into something more appropriate—a pair of jeans and a cozy sweater—I met Max in the living room. He had cleaned up the kitchen mess and was now waiting by the door, car keys in hand.

At the door, I slipped on a pair of Birkenstocks, leaning on Max to stabilize myself. Feeling myself slipping all of a sudden, Max grabbed onto my waist and steadied me up. His grip was firm, and I could feel the warmth of his hand through my shirt, sending a little shiver down my spine.

"Careful there," he teased, his voice low and close to my ear. "Wouldn't want you to fall for me… again."

I glanced up at him, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, I don't know, Max. It seems like you're getting pretty good at catching me."

He smirked, his hand still resting on my waist, holding me just a little closer than necessary. "Well, practice makes perfect, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, the playful tension between us impossible to ignore. "You might need a few more tries, though. I’m a bit of a klutz."

He chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly against my side. "Lucky for you, I’ve got all the time in the world." My heart was quite literally beating out of my chest and the sexual tension was getting to me. Noticing my beet red face, Max continued.

"Ready to go?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Ready," I replied, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. (And still giggly from the whole previous ordeal)

Max held the door open for me with a dramatic flourish. "After you, my lady," he said with a mock bow.

I laughed, rolling my eyes playfully. "Such a gentleman. You really know how to impress a girl."

As we headed down to the underground garage, Max couldn't resist a bit more teasing. "So, do you have a grocery list, or are we winging it?"

"I think we should wing it," I said, grinning. "Who knows, maybe we'll discover some hidden culinary talents."

"Or set off the smoke alarm again," Max added, smirking.

I nudged him with my elbow. "Hey, I'm a decent cook. I promise I won't let you burn anything."

"Good to know," he replied, his smile widening as we reached his Aston Martin Vantage.

The sleek car gleamed under the garage lights, and I couldn't help but admire it. "Nice ride," I said, running a hand over the smooth surface.

"Thanks," Max said, a hint of pride in his voice. "I figured it would make a good impression."

"You figured right," I said with a wink.

As we pulled out onto the street, the city lights cast a warm glow over everything. The drive through the city was peaceful, the streets mostly empty at this hour. We chatted casually, the conversation flowing easily as we navigated through the urban maze. Max seemed to know the city well, effortlessly weaving through the streets as we made our way to the nearest grocery store.

As we drove through the city, the conversation continued to flow easily. "So, what kind of snacks are we getting?" Max asked, glancing over at me.

"Definitely some chocolate," I replied. "Maybe some chips too. What about you?"

"I was thinking ice cream," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know, for dessert after our gourmet fried rice."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You and your sweet tooth. Fine, we'll get ice cream. But only if you promise not to eat it all in one sitting."

"Deal," Max said, grinning. "I promise to save some for you."

"Max I've seen you devour so much food in one sitting, are you sure you are keeping that promise?" I roll my eyes in mock frustration.

He smirked, glancing over at me. "What can I say? I'm a growing boy."

"Growing boy, huh?" I teased. "Last time I checked, you were already fully grown."

"Just because I'm tall and handsome doesn't mean I can't still grow," he shot back, winking.

I snorted. "Tall and humble, too. Such a rare combination."

"Only for you," he said, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. "I reserve my best qualities for special occasions."

"Well, aren't I lucky?" I said with a laugh. "I guess I'll have to make sure to keep you around for more grocery runs."

"Hey, I'll take any excuse to spend time with you," he replied smoothly. "Even if it means resisting the urge to eat all the ice cream."

I pretended to ponder his words. "Hmm, maybe I should test your willpower. Get a couple of pints and see how long they last."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you challenging me?"

"Maybe I am," I said, grinning. "Think you can handle it?"

"Oh, I can handle it," Max said confidently. "But can you handle me winning?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "We'll see about that. Just don't cry when I catch you sneaking spoonful's in the middle of the night."

"You're on," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "But be warned, I play to win."

The hum of the Aston Martin's engine was a soothing backdrop to our conversation. The car's interior was luxurious, with plush leather seats and a state-of-the-art dashboard. I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement as we sped through the city, the lights blurring past us in a kaleidoscope of colors.

"So, do you do this often?" I asked, glancing over at Max.

"Late-night grocery runs?" he replied with a grin. "Not really, but I'm always up for an adventure."

I laughed, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between us. "Well, I think this might be the most exciting grocery run I've ever been on."

Max chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Just wait until we get there. I might even let you pick out some snacks."

"Now you're talking," I said, grinning. "I will never not indulge in big back activities," The prospect of picking out snacks together felt oddly intimate, a small but meaningful step in getting to know each other better.

"Hey! You can definitely tell a lot about a person based on their favorite snacks. People who simply like spicy shrimp crackers are superior!"

Max raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his gaze. "Spicy shrimp crackers? That’s a bold choice. I guess we'll see if our snack preferences align."

"They better," I said, rolling my eyes in mock annoyance. With that, we stepped outside, the crisp air greeting us as we made our way to the grocery store. The city buzzed around us, but all I could focus on was the warmth of his presence beside me and the anticipation of what was quickly becoming an unexpectedly perfect day.

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 278,121 others

yourusername: what in the #domesticlife...#breadbedandbred

view comments:

maxverstappen1: This is a VERY misleading caption, Y/N

maxverstappen1: Nice post, though (please change the caption)

maxverstappen1: Christian also said that the caption is "sussy as hell"... whatever that means

user1: BYEEEE christian "horny" horner strikes again 🤕

user2: ain't nothing SOFT about this LAUNCH y/n 😖😖🤯🫣

yourusername: 🫣🫣🫣

user3: not her casually serving in a groccery store at night, i aspire to be second-slide-y/n

user4: DAMNNNNN IM SLEEPING ON THE HIGHWAY TNNNN GUYS 😐🤧

user5: AYO MAX

user5: hand placement.... you better WATCH yourself

user6: guys i need this so bad, accepting bf applications RIGHT NOW

user7: dude.... Dude.... DUDEEEEE

user8: his gorilla ass grip on the hook of her jean hook im ILL guys I'M SO ILL 🤕🤕

user9: u r so right queen, it's giving #domestic #hubbyandbubby #narasmithlife #walkhimlikeadog

yourusername: i like #walkhimlikeadog 🤯

maxverstappen1: I like #hughimlikeacat better 😌

yourusername: 🐶🐶🐶 ARF MAX

maxverstappen1: You are very VERY weird, Y/N 🤣🤣🤣😂😅

yourusername: ARF ARF ARFFFFF 🐕🐕🐩

user10: we got #walkhimlikeadog daughter versus #hughimlikeacat son before gta 6 😈😈😈🥲

landonorris: Damn, Max, get a grip, you are getting SOFT my boy 😹😹😹

maxverstappen1: Not funny, Lando

yourusername: 😹😹😹

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author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

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shall-we-die · 3 months ago

Note

Hello 😍

Can I ask you to write some headcanons for bsd? How would they act in a relationship with a s/o who was previously in love with fyodor? if you dont mind, please include Ranpo and Kunikida 🥺🥺

Thank you in advance and please, keep doing this amazing blog!!!!!!!

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{Used to love the Devil}

☰[Main list]•⊰ Bungo stray dogs

↬[A/N]•⊰ Hey darling🫂 How are you doing? Hope you are well and healthy.

Thank you for being patient so I can write your request and also thank you for giving me such kind words 💕

I hope you enjoy my writing. I'm sorry though, I can't write about characters I don't feel close to, I feel it's better to remove them than to have to write boring stuff for them.

╚═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

[Atsushi]

If his s/o used to be Fyodor’s ex, Atsushi will likely have mixed feelings about their relationship.

On one hand, he may be curious about the nature of their relationship and how it ended. He may also feel a hint of jealousy or insecurity, wondering if his s/o still harbors feelings for Fyodor or if they compare him to their former partner.

On the other hand, he may be understanding and supportive, willing to listen to his s/o and let them share their past experiences with him.

After the initial shock of learning that his s/o had a history with Fyodor, Atsushi’s relationship with them will likely become stronger and more trusting.

He will likely appreciate that they were able to share their past experiences with him and feel that they trust and care about him enough to be vulnerable with him.

This may lead to a deeper emotional connection between the two, and Atsushi may feel more secure in his relationship with his s/o now as a result.

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[Dazai]

He knew (as always) He wanted to use you because of that, but he finally fell for you.

Dazai is not the type to get jealous, but thinking about seeing you with Fyodor will put him on the edge. Dazai is extremely protective of you.

Sometimes... he feels like you might leave him for Fyodor...

He tries to be very loving, very caring and protective.

He has a soft spot for you, he is very possessive and has trouble being without you.

He is also clingy,he is more physically affectionate than usual, he doesn't hesitate to shower you with.

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[Chuuya]

Chuuya would absolutely flip out over the fact that you're Fyodor's ex (dramatic choke on his expensive wine),

he'd have a complete mental breakdown, he's already extremely jealous, but knowing that his dear y/n was with a person like Fyodor... beforehand would only make his jealousy go up through the roof.

He'd be on edge all the time, he'd be pretty clingy, very possessive, wouldn't allow you to be alone with Fyodor, ever!

Extremely wholesome and sweet, yet quite intense. He tends to get very over possessive and jealous over her to the point where he can seem pretty controlling, but his heart is in the right place, his clinginess and possessiveness just stem from his deep insecurities and fear of losing the person he cares about.

But... he's a big romantic, who goes through great lengths and makes many sacrifices to make you when it's needed.

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[Akutagawa]

Well he would be very confused on how and why his s/o was Fyodor's Ex. Once he found out about it he'd probably try to figure out why they broke up and how long (or short) their relationship was.

He probably feels quite possessive, like he has a need of showing that now his s/o is his and not anybody else's and would be quite protective and a really jealous af.

After some time he'd probably still feel very possessive and protective, since they used to be with Fyodor.

He'd probably also be jealous as hell because why should his S/O stay with him when they also liked the rat man. (yeah he definitely calls him a rat man)

But his relationship with his S/O is overall not that bad, he's just very extra protective and clingy around them at times and also really really damn jealous.

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[Tetchou]

He would be in complete shock to say the least. He would feel that his s/o betrayed him by even getting with someone as dangerous as Fyodor.

That would also make him have a strong dislike for Fyodor. If he ever meets Fyodor, he knows he won’t be able to stop himself from trying to kill the man.

If it is straight after he found out, then he’ll have a cold and distant attitude towards his s/o, not really wanting to look or talk to them as it only brought him pain.

If it is after the pain has gone down, he’ll be back to his usual, more warm and calm mood towards his s/o. Still a little colder than before, but he’s trying...

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[Jouno]

Saigiku would constantly find himself comparing his s/o to Fyodor due to the thought of his s/o being previously together with him.

He would attempt to keep them close to him, refusing to let them leave his side for fear of them going back to Fyodor, to which he would get jealous.

As a result of these feelings, he would also act much more possessively and a bit more protective toward his s/o. As of now, his relationship with his s/o is more of a complicated, somewhat toxic dynamic.

Because of the feelings of jealousy, fear, and possessiveness, he has for his s/o, he can't help but act cold and snarky towards them while also keeping a careful eye on them, refusing to let them stray too far from him.

He wants to have them all to himself, which has made the relationship between them become strained.

His s/o, however, is not all that pleased at how the dynamic has changed between them.

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[Nikolai]

Nikolai would be quite insecure and try to compete (and get the better of) Fyodor to prove that he's the better partner for his s/o.

Nikolai would also definitely act more clingy than usual and try to cling onto his s/o to make his claim and make sure his s/o was really his, and not still interested in Fyodor.

Nikolai's relationship with his s/o is probably pretty good. Nikolai's a very affectionate and caring person, so he tends to be quite loving towards his s/o.

He'd probably be quite jealous, but in a cute way (it's a lie, he really wants to tear Fyodor apart).

Nikolai is a very clingy person and probably wouldn't leave his s/o alone, wanting constant attention from them.

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[Sigma]

Sigma knows that Fyodor used to have an ex. He also knows that Fyodor isn't the kind of man who ever had any romantic feelings.

Even though Sigma knows this, he still feels a pang of jealousy over the thought of his s/o and Fyodor being together at any point in the past.

Although he'll never admit it out loud, he always has that nagging feeling in the back of his head.

His relationship with his s/o is good, although he does still have a nagging feeling in the back of his mind about their former relationship with Fyodor.

He can't help but worry sometimes that if given the opportunity, y/n would choose Fyodor over him.

Even though he tries to push these thoughts aside, they still linger within him, and he has to work to suppress them. Despite this, he is genuinely happy being with his s/o and shows affection and love towards them.

#𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜–[📩]#𝙰𝚛𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚋𝚘𝚡–[📮]#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd hcs #dazai osamu x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #bsd chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #ryunosuke akutagawa x reader #tetchou suehiro x reader #bsd jouno x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd sigma x reader

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unsuredreamer · 3 months ago

Note

is it possible for a Bridget x Reader where Red found out not only her mother's different personality in the past but also a has a childhood friend that both Bridget and reader has feelings towards one another is too shy about it but in the original timeline Reader was never mentioned because reader died in an accident that people assumed that it was Bridget fault because she is a monster and red also plans to prevent reader's death

Your Heart

Bridget Hearts 🩷 x reader

Kinda changed a bit but I still hope you like it!!!

Still open for more requests my loves ♡

"Bridget. You're better than this. I know that what happened was hard for you, but that was ages ago" Ella pleaded desperately trying to stop her ex best friend from taking over Auradon.

"Hard? It was excruciating, I relive it every day since" the queen coldly exclaimed.

"We all do. She was like a dream, but she is gone now. We have to move on Bridget"

"Don't you dare speak of her in my presence! You did not care back then." The Queen yelled out. "Now kneel" she gestured with her hand.

"I will never kneel to a tyrant"

"She's denied a royal order. What do we do about that, darling?" The Red Queen turned to her daughter smiling ear to ear. But don't let it get you. It's not the nice kind.

"Look, all you have to do is swear allegiance. Is that so hard?" Red butt in to Cinderella, she knew it was about to go down.

"If it means compromising everything I stand for, yes."

"Who are you loyal to Red? These strangers or your mother? Now make me proud for once" Bridget took a hold of Red's face, grinning like she was about to win. She was of course.

"Come on Bridget, even your daughter knows it's wrong, she can't do it" This sentence made something snap in Red, like a force pulling her towards the bad, a little devil sitting on her shoulder. But she felt vulnerable. Did she really want that? Her heart thumped in her chest."Treason! She's guilty of treason, and that means off with her head!" Wrong, it felt so wrong, to the point she felt dizzy, the whole world spinning.

"Exactly right, my dear! Off with her head!" The royal guards began walking the other queen, her daughter desperately trying to pry the others away. Red coming straight at her, her spinning head did not help in trying to take out the pocket watch and steadying her posture.

But she did, and what happened next was not what she expected..

~•~

"Now great! We traveled 20 years back in time! Fucking excellent Red" Chloe yelled, angered as her mother was just sentenced to death by the very girl standing beside her

"Calm down, little goody princess pop star. I meant to sent us back just a few minutes so i could take my mothers cards, but it took us here. I certainly did not mean to take you with me" Red remarked, thinking hard about why she ended up in this exact moment.

"Well, we're here now, so might as well undo whatever made your mom so evil" Chloe paced back and forth, clutching her sword tightly in her hand, something she did often while being stressed beyond heavens.

"And how exactly are you planning to prevent murder, Chloe?" The princess of Wonderland asked sarcastically. Because truly, how were they supposed to do it? They didn't know who did it, how, when, and where. It was all a mystery to them. It's like this death was completely erased from existence. No one mentioned it. After all, why would you reminisce such a sad and sudden death that became a start to many years of misery and tyranny of one of the cruelest rulers known of."We could at least, i don't know...try? My mom said it happened after a talk about flamingos?" What? Was she joking, really?

"Let's just look for our mothers for now."

And thats what they did, what brought them to this exact moment.

"Hey my love, how are these cupcakes you talked about?" A strange girl sat down on one of the benches in the school halls looking at Bridget, Red's mom, with such loving eyes just begging for an ounce of touch from the pink one. She must have heard her pleads as she sat down on her lap, throwing her arm around the others neck.

"They are great! I saved you one or two...plates" Bridget grinned. She could never do too little for the girl she was so desperately in love with. Although they claimed to be just bestest of best friends, too shy to admit they literally wore each other's hearts on their chests. "These flamingo feathers you went so out of way to get for me really turned out excellent as a topping." She smiled widely once again. Something you could never grow tired of. Her enchanting eyes and magical pink hair drawing you in.

"Who is that?" Red whispered to Ella, Chloe's mother.

"Y/n Cupid, Bridget's childhood best friend"

"Aree you sureee they are just that?" Chloe questioned as she smiled sheepishly. "It surely looks like more than that to me,"What a sight, seeing the cruel Queen of Hearts (who is now such a sweet and kind soul) be so lovey dovey with another person. That alone made Red's head spiral. Her mother was not mad evil? She was good-hearted? And she had a lover? That is something she would never grasp after all those years of fake smiles and cold orders.

"Mhm, they are. Although I strongly suggest them every day to make a closer move. They won't budge like stuck-up little kids."

"Well lovely, I will try not to eat them all in one sitting." You continued, taking Bridget's hand in yours, softly swiping your finger across her palm. Her breath hitched. It was something you'd done quite often, but even the slightest touch from you made her head dizzy and the goosebumps on her skin to pop instantly.

"Y-You, I" She stuttered out, nothing more coming in to her clouded mind, you giggled at her cutness, what resulted in you being hit by her in the head "Be careful, try not to turn into a flamingo, they are awsome but only one at a time sweetie" She kissed your cheek quickly, she was feeling bold, usually she'd just boop your nose or something. A kiss was a big declaration from her. She loved physical touch, she loved hugs, grazing or intertwining hands. But a kiss was something she preserved only for her one and only.

You were her one and only.

"Okay, it was nice meeting you, Red and Chloe, I'll be going now. I have a shit load of homework from Professor Merlin. Bye Ella, see you later B!" You sent them a kiss and dissappeared in the halls.

"Bridget!" The lovesick girl jumped upon her name being yelled out "She is so totally in love with you!" Chloe squealed, not being able to keep her excitement in, taking the princesses hands and jumping around."No, no. We are just friends. She would never look at me that way" Bridget sadly sighed, playing with her heart necklace she got from her 'friend'

It was a truly beautiful gift, just a necklace with a heart, but if you were to look at it from the other side. The necklace was made from silver, crafted by Hephaestus himself, the red heart was a gemstone made differently, it was a part of the glass heart of cupid.

Your heart.

You gave her your heart!?

How could she be so stupid not to recognize what a grand gesture of love it was?

You basically devoted your whole life to her, vowing to love her forever and always.

You gave her your heart...

"See, that's what I'm talking about!" Frustrated Ella butt in. "They act like a couple, but when you point it out, both of them are sooooo dumb to realize how the other is fe-" She could not finish because Red and Chloe were long gone. So was Bridget, even quicker.

As Bridget realized what an oblivious idiot she had been, she took a run after you, clutching the necklace in her hand. After a minute, she found you in the gardens.

The sight of your unconscious body made Bridget shiver, freeze, almost as if she had stepped foot on the Boomerang Nebula. She fell, her weak knees hitting the blood-stained ground. The once beautiful, white pebbles, turning maroon as the red liquid pooled out of the corpse.

A terrifying, horror like scream was all that could be heard...

No one would imagine a dead body with a spear shot right through the heart in the broad daylight while waking out on the school grounds. Hazed eyes, once full of life, staring longingly into the distance. And the strong grip of the hand, oh so soft, still remaining on the spear. The white button-up shirt peppered in small hearts growing more and more burgundy with each passing second.

She could not believe it. You were gone.

The love of her life

She could not stop the anger mixed with hurt and unimaginable sadness growing in her heart as she watched her lovers lifeless body. She threw a fit with the intention of hurting everyone in the mere distance. Luckily, no one was there to be hurt. Throwing her cards up in the air, shooting fires, and demolishing basically everything she could see.

Bridget broke down crying. There was nothing she could do to bring her life back, her life back.

As Chloe successfully shielded her princess from the fires and chaos thrown by her mother, Bridget fell on her knees once again. They stared at the scene before them.

They cursed themselves that they weren't able to stop the killing. They had failed.

Red felt absolutely terrible seeing her mother so heartbroken. She saw only the worst part of her. She never even thought there once was this sweet, kind, thoughtful, and such a loving princess within her. She wondered of all these good times she could have, with her other 'mom' too. As she was wishing she could've come sooner to stop this nonsense, however would she have done it, Chloe ran to her mom's younger version. Dropping on her knees just a couple inches away, wrapping the pink girl in her embrace. So strong, so comforting.

Bridget laid her head on her chest, sobbing uncontrollably, gripping Chloe's blue shirt so tightly she was most likely to rip it apart any second. That is truly what she needed, a warm presence holding her so she wouldn't go mad.

"Cry Bridget, I'm here for you," and that's what she did. She cried till she was out of energy to do so. She just stared in the distance, thinking of nothing. There was nothing left for her. She took ahold of her lovers hand, vowing to herself she'd never fall in love again.

And she'll keep your heart, just how you have kept hers.

Not all stories have a happily ever after, even if we try to change it

#bridget hearts #bridget hearts of wonderland #bridget #bridget x reader #bridget x fem reader #chloe charming #descendants #descendants rise of red #descendants rise of red x reader #descendants x reader #descendants 4 x reader #descendants 4 #fiction #chloe x reader #red of wonderland #chloe #cinderella

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thewritingmagician2022 · 7 months ago

Text

Terms of Endearment - Brothers and Dateables

Lucifer: My love, my dear

Lucifer tends to use the more traditional pet names for his partner when he does use them, which isn’t very often. He will call you my love or my dear when he’s particularly pleased or feeling sentimental, and he’s also known to use them when you’re upset.

Mammon: My human, my baby/babe

Mammon regularly uses nicknames for his partner that begin with my like my human or my babe/baby. He really just like anything that sounds possessive because it shows everyone how you belong to him. They’re not super sappy names though because he has his tough reputation to live up to.

Levi: Henry, true friend, normie

Levi uses a lot nicknames because there’s something super embarrassing and vulnerable about using your actual name. He uses casual nicknames, almost joking ones, like normie or Henry. He likes hearing you laugh when he uses them but he blushes like crazy if you ever use on one him.

Satan: Kitten, darling, Watson

Satan is all about the romantic nicknames; typically he will use something like darling or kitten, especially when he is in a good mood. However, he will sometimes use Watson when he is in one of his chaotic or fun moods. Watson may be his favorite honestly because it just shows how great of a team you are.

Asmo: Hun, darling, beautiful/gorgeous, sweetie, anything goes.

We all that Asmo uses nonstop pet names. It’s second nature to him to call you anything cute that he can think of: hun, sweetie, darling, gorgeous. He’ll even make up random little nonsense names like ‘my sugar free cupcake’ because he loves to see how far he can take it before you call him out on how ridiculous he’s being.

Beel: Honey, sweetheart

Beel is a very simple guy. He’s not going to use flowery nicknames or use them all the time.Typically, he’s going to use your name or maybe a shortened version of it, but if you catch him in a particularly soft mood or if he’s trying to comfort you, he might call you honey or sweetheart.

Belphie: Idiot, princess/prince

Belphie, like Beel, doesn’t use nicknames a lot but he does it more than his twin. Belphie will call you idiot like a term of endearment and then call you princess/prince and make it sound like an insult. Honestly, he just enjoys riling you up. If he’s actually trying to be nice, he will call you his dream.

Diavolo: My queen/king, actual name

Diavolo looooves nicknames. He didn’t grow up with them or any friends to use them on so he tries out all different kinds with you at first, figuring out what you both liked best. He loves to call you dearest (since you’re the person he cares about most) and once you’re in a serious relationship, he likes to call you his king/queen. Once in a while he’ll throw out something like “pookie” because he heard someone else say it and it always leads to a good laugh.

Barbatos: My lady, actual name

Barbatos follows a strict set of rules and has perfect manners which means he’s not known for using nicknames. He thinks even using someone’s first name can be incredibly intimate based on his station but, deep down, Barbatos is incredibly soft, especially for MC. When they are alone, he’ll regularly call them ‘love’ or ‘my heart’. He uses these because he claims you are the person who brought love into the heart he forgot he had.

Solomon: My better half, something based on an inside joke

Solomon enjoys using nicknames but almost all of them are a joke. He typically uses embarrassing moments or inside jokes to come up with them and they change out regularly. It wouldn’t be weird for him to call you something like ‘spilled milk’ or ‘my croissant’. But, during serious moments or when he’s introducing you to someone, Solomon likes to call you his better half because that’s exactly what he thinks you are.

Simeon: lamb/little lamb, sunshine

Simeon goes 50/50 with pet names. Like Barbatos and Beel, he most enjoys using them in private but he’s certainly not ashamed to use them in front of people if he thinks the moment calls for it. He most commonly calls you lamb or little lamb and it’s always said so fondly that it makes up for any condenscion you might feel. He will also call you sunshine because he claims you not only light up the Devildom but also his life.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me brothers #obey me Dateables

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hyvyinjie · 6 months ago

Note

hi! Can I ask for a headcannon about Minamoto teru x childhood friend reader? Where teru is really over protective and gentle towards the reader. Reader is a lazy person, and often sleepy, the things he likes are reading comics and playing game in their phone. They also refuses teru's invitation to join the student council. Thank you! :)

why of course! it’d be an honor to grant such an ask. apologies for taking quite a while to do so—though i hope my work meets your expectations, wonderful nonie!<3

—LOST IN THE HAZE OF YOUR DREAMSCAPE.

featuring ; minamoto teru & you as our star.

+ small akane & aoi mentions.

ah, minamoto teru; the very embodiment of perfection—as he was hailed and as he carried himself with utter conviction.

a master of powers, a paragon of academic prowess, and a maestro in all things extraordinary. could there be anything he did not conquer?

yet, his persona, a labyrinth of complexities, as if harboring a multitude of souls within his very being.

now, here you arrive in his peculiar life—meeting with the intricacies of his existence.

when your paths converged, it ignited a tempestuous collision, a clash of peculiar forces.

initially, your mere presence held no sway over him. in truth, he perceived you as an encumbrance, burdened by your languid nature. for he, a relentless pursuer of flawlessness, demanded nothing less.

but lo and behold. fate—that cunning trickster—wove its intricate threads, meticulously mending the frayed tapestry of your connection.

through the passage of time, a tapestry of happenstance encounters and the subsequent flourishing of interactions—a nascent camaraderie took root. he slowly, but surely grew attuned to your idiosyncrasies, harmonizing with your rhythm. while the power to surmount every obstacle at your side eludes him still, he persists, striving to offer his utmost.

oh please have mercy on this young man—forever enmeshed in the whirlwind of his exorcist duties. and yet, even amidst the chaos, his devotion knows no bounds when it comes to those he holds dear.

one might assume that quality time would be sacrificed for the trivial, but fear not, for you found yourself on the fortunate side—the one he’d willingly carved out moments to be with.

initially, your encounters were fleeting, brief snippets of time. however, as the sands of time trickled down, these fragments transformed into meticulously planned sleepovers. he meticulously orchestrated these occasions, ensuring they did not encroach upon his demanding schedule.

your bond thrived during these cozy gatherings, or tranquil rendezvous, where he wholeheartedly immersed himself in your passions—comics and video games.

though not extensively versed in these realms, one might imagine that you—with your infectious enthusiasm to the field—was the catalyst for his exploration and understanding of the realm of entertainment. this was evidenced by the gradual increase in invitations to game nights and his newfound willingness to engage in discussions about captivating narratives. perhaps, you both even exchanged recommendations for comics, as kindred spirits often do.

as the both of you and the world grew older—it became evident that he honed his social skills; presenting himself as a complete package. every aspect of his being held an irresistible allure, captivating the hearts of women, and even some fellow men. many yearned and openly expressed their desire to be the chosen one by his side.

however, even amidst the clamoring crowd, his gaze remained steadfastly fixed upon you.

of course, as the old adage goes; with great power comes great responsibility—the price of his popularity gradually revealed itself.

certain students, teetering on the edge of obsession, noticed the distinct tenderness he displayed towards you, surpassing his general kindness towards all. seizing upon this perceived vulnerability, they occasionally resorted to devious methods, seeking to eliminate you from the equation, taking advantage of moments when slumber claimed you.

naturally, he swiftly uncovered their plot, intervening before they could execute their nefarious intentions.

needless to say, the number of such audacious attempts dwindled significantly. what exactly he did to deter them remains a mystery known only to him and his would-be victims.

still, worried that the possibility of a recurrence and his absence to intervene, he took it upon himself to practically implore—some might even say beg—you to join the student council. this would ensure that he, or even akane if needed, could keep a watchful eye over you with greater ease.

however, true to your nature, you steadfastly rebuffed each futile attempt to persuade you. despite his persistent efforts, you remained resolute in your refusal.

eventually, your golden boy relented, recognizing that his endeavors were in vain…but that was just because he found an alternative solution.

he encouraged—forced—akane to be the one to look after you discreetly whenever he couldn’t. only choosing to partially reveal his intentions to avoid alarming you at the time, as you were unfamiliar with akane’s existence.

or so it had been until he observed that you and the school’s vice president shared a rather unique bond.

although akane would occasionally scold you for being so excessively somnolent, mistaking it for you being irresponsible, hence, occasionally comparing you to the greatness of his lady aoi—teru—ever vigilant and mindful of akane’s every interaction with you, ensured that his usual brutal tendencies were significantly tempered. still—it remained a part of the deputy’s essence, defining his very being, just albeit subdued in your presence.

it could be surmised that akane once attempted to tease—or rather, foolishly inquire, about teru’s subtle yet perceptible shifts in behavior whenever you were involved.

“it’s almost as if you like them.”

in an almost immediate reaction—the president paused, slowly turning his head to gaze at akane, a shadow casting a smile that concealed the upper portion of his closed eyes.

the ginger-haired vice executive, feeling an ominous presence despite the absence of visible eyes, found himself sweating profusely as he cautiously added,

“—to the point where anyone could mistake you for family!"

sensing the gravity of his words, akane mentally vowed to never broach the subject again. he restrained himself from ever mentioning it whenever he witnessed the two of you together.

curiosity gnawed at you as you noticed his all-knowing gaze transform into one of horror whenever you turned your head, as if peering behind you; at none other than the pretty blonde himself, who seemed to be doing nothing wrong, merely proven to have been innocently smiling the whole time, or so he put up whenever you looked back at him.

oblivious to the truth, you always dismissed it as ‘akane’s peculiar moments of ptsd flashbacks’ whenever he saw teru.

however, let me share a little secret with you.

did you know the true reason behind teru’s death stare? no? well, do you wanna know?

then do allow me to spill it for you.

it was simply because akane, using the keyword; "like," insinuated that teru had a ‘liking-only level’ romantic feeling for you. the misconception provoked such a reaction from teru, for he wanted to correct that statement because he loved you, not just liked you.

seriously, can’t people let him finish what he’s saying?

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slutforspungen · 4 months ago

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Sid Vicious’s Letters to Deborah Spungen following the death of Nancy Spungen (his girlfriend).

(TW MENTIONS OF SUICIDE)

(FIRST LETTER)

Dear Debbie, thank you for phoning me the other night. It was so comforting to hear your voice. You are the only person who really understands how much Nancy and I love each other. Every day without Nancy gets worse and worse. I just hope that when I die I go the same place as her. Otherwise I will never find peace.

Frank said in the paper that Nancy was born in pain and lived in pain all her life. When I first met her, and for about six months after that, I spent practically the whole time in tears. Her pain was just too much to bear. Because, you see, I felt Nancy’s pain as though it were my own, worse even. But she said that I must be strong for her or otherwise she would have to leave me. So I became strong for her, and she began to stop having asthma attacks and seemed to be going through a lot less pain.

I realized that she had never known love and was desperately searching for someone to love her. It was the only thing she really needed. I gave her the love that she needed so badly and it comforts me to know that I made her very happy during the time we were together, where she had only known unhappiness before.

Oh Debbie, I love her with such passion. Every day is agony without her. I know now that it is possible to die from a broken heart. Because when you love someone as much as we love each other, they become fundamental to your existence. So I will die soon, even if I don’t kill myself. I guess you could say that I’m pining for her. I could live without food or water longer than I’m going to survive with out Nancy.

Thank you so much for understanding us, Debbie. It means so much to me, and I know it meant alot to Nancy. She really loves you, and so do I. How did she know when she was going to die? I always prayed that she was wrong, but deep inside I knew she was right.

Nancy was a very special person, too beautiful for this world. I feel so privileged to have loved her, and been loved by her. Oh Debbie, it was such a beautiful love. I can’t go on without it. When we first met, we knew we were made for each other, and fell in love with each other immediately. We were totally inseparable and were never apart. We had certain telepathic abilities, too. I remember about nine months after we met, I left Nancy for awhile. After a couple of weeks of being apart, I had a strange feeling that Nancy was dying. I went straight to the place she was staying and when I saw her, I knew it was true. I took her home with me and nursed her back to health, but I knew that if I hadn’t bothered she would have died.

Nancy was just a poor baby, desperate for love. It made me so happy to give her love, and believe me, no man ever loved a woman with such burning passion as I love Nancy. I never even looked at others. No one was as beautiful as my Nancy. Enclosed is a poem I wrote for her. It kind of sums up how much I love her.

If possible, I would love to see you before I die. You are the only one who understood.

Love, Sid XXX

P.S. Thank you, Debbie, for understanding that I have to die. Everyone else just thinks I am being weak. All I can say is that they never loved anyone as passionately as I love Nancy. I always felt unworthy to be loved by someone so beautiful as her. Everything we did was beautiful. At the climax of our lovemaking, I just used to break down and cry. It was so beautiful it was almost unbearable. It makes me mad when people say “you must have really loved her.” So they think I don’t still love her? At least when I die, we will be together.I feel like a lost child, so alone.

The nights are the worst. I used to hold Nancy close to me all night so that she wouldn’t have nightmares and I just can’t sleep without my beautiful baby in my arms. So warm and gentle and vulnerable. No one should expect me to live without her. She was a part of me. My heart.

Debbie, please come and see me. You are the only person who knows what I am going through. If you don’t want to, could you please phone me again, and write.

I love you.

NANCY

You were my little baby girl

And I shared all your fears.

Such joy to hold you in my arms

And kiss away your tears.

But now you’re gone there’s only pain

And nothing I can do.

And I don’t want to live this life

If I can’t live for you.

To my beautiful baby girl.

Our love will never die.

(SECOND LETTER)

Dear Debbie, I’m dying. Slowly, and in great pain. My baby is gone, without her I have no will to live. I love her so desperately. I know I can never make it without her. Nancy became my whole life. She was the only thing that mattered to me.

I’m glad I could make her happy. I gave her everything she ever wanted, just for the asking. When we only had enough money for one of us to get straight, I always gave it to Nancy. It was less painful to be sick myself than it was to see her sick.

When you love someone that much you cannot lose them and still be able to go on. I know that if I lived to be a thousand years old I would never find anyone like Nancy. No one can ever take her place. I love Nancy and Nancy only. I will always love her. Even after I am dead.

I have only eaten a few mouthfuls of food since she died. I may die of starvation in this place. I just hope it comes soon, so that I can be with Nancy again.

We always knew that we would go to the same place when we died. We so much wanted to die together in each other’s arms. I cry every time I think about that. I promised my baby that I would kill myself if anything ever happened to her, and she promised me the same. This is my final commitment to the one I love.

I worshipped Nancy. It was far more than just love. To me she was a goddess. She used to make me kiss her feet before we made love. No one ever loved the way we did, and to spend even a day away from her, let alone a whole lifetime, is too painful to even think about. Oh Debbie, I never knew what pain was until this happened. Nancy was my whole life. I lived for her. Now I must die for her.

It gave me such pleasure to give her anything she wanted. She was just like a child. She used to call me “daddy” when she was upset, and I used to call her “mamma” and she used to nurse me at her breast and call me her “baby boy”.

I tried to kill myself but they got me to hospital before I died. Nancy knows that I will soon be with her. Please pray that we will be together. I can never find peace until we are together again.

Oh Debbie, she was the most beautiful person I ever knew. I would have done anything for her.

Nancy once asked if I would pour petrol over myself and set it on fire if she told me to. I said I would, and I meant it. If you would happily die for someone, then how can you live without them. I can’t go on without her. She always said she would die before she was twenty-one, and I never doubted it.

Goodbye, Debbie. I love you.

Sid XXX

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bg-brainrot · 7 months ago

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The Night They Slept Together

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: Tav pines, and their relationship with Astarion shifts ever so slightly. (They literally do just sleep)

Tags: 2nd person POV, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Pining, light hurt and angst, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, coping with feelings, act 2, pre-confession

A/N: some light angst as Tav comes to term with their feelings but we already know where they end up, so it's okay, right? :D

Word count: ~2.1k

Your tryst with Astarion should be over by now.

It was supposed to be a one off moment of passion, a way to destress after all of the danger you’d thrown yourselves into. He’d asked so easily, you’d agreed just as readily– a quick celebratory moment after defeating that goblin camp, when your spirits and libido were running high.

The second time? Well, that was easy to write off as well. You’d just fought off an entire creche, moving through it like a pair of practiced assassins, a synchrony you haven’t felt since– well, you’re not certainly you’ve ever felt so in sync with someone. Either way, it was another easy nod to his sly, questioning look.

You’d had similar excuses for your first night in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, for the handful of midday, afternoon, midnight romps since.

It’s just a way for us to cope with the situation at hand, nothing more, nothing less, you’d told yourself.

That is, until you’d realized that it wasn’t just that. Not to you.

Oh gods, I love this insane vampire.

The night you’d realized that everything had changed.

What had begun as a distraction for you both, had turned into a poison– one slowly working its way through your system, incapacitating you piece by piece at the thought of another night falling into his arms, sinking deeper into the throes of an impossible love.

After all, what is this other than convenient? And if you continued to be a mere convenience to him, well, you doubt that this would end well for you. It’s high time that you cut off the source of this poison before it festers too far. Before it grips your vulnerable, aching heart.

That’s what you’d told yourself, but you’re finding it so much harder to cut off the source when he’s standing right in front of you, waiting for you with a smirk toying along the edge of his mouth, an eyebrow raising suggestively as his voice lowers to a sultry invitation.

You’d come by his tent to say goodnight. Maybe, ‘Good job today.’ Any excuse to see him really, but now you’re met with a challenge.

Astarion’s words don’t make it much easier either.

“Oh my dear, you look positively wound-up after today’s bouts. Care for a little… unwinding?”

His voice drips with promise, with want, with a feeling that echoes through your own traitorous core. But, like a sweet that’s overstayed its welcome, it seems too tacky, hardening into something utterly indigestible.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you ask, eying him carefully, fighting down your own building desires.

“Why shouldn’t it be?” he asks, a raised brow lowering in uncertainty.

You hesitate, unsure how much truth you’re willing to part with. Certainly not, ‘Because I may have accidentally fallen in love with you.’ And you don’t want to shove him out of your life unceremoniously either. Just… to slow down, allow your heart time to adjust– to get over him, if need be.

After a pause that goes on for a second too long, you finally settle on, “It just seems as if we’ve already had plenty of ‘fun’, don’t you think?”

Astarion’s small smirk drops, a dark look entering his eyes as he registers your words, how they directly counter his own from your first night together. How they fall between you with the full weight of rejection. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown shy now, darling?” he says, voice a bit sharper than what you’re used to.

You’d known that trying to slow down wouldn’t be easy, but his downturned lips make you want to take back your words, dive back into the intoxicating miasma of his cold embrace. But you also know that if you don’t stand your ground now, you’re liable to fall too far too fast.

“Not shy per say,” you respond, measuring your words carefully. “Merely wondering if that’s what you want.”

Astarion seems no more placated by these words than your earlier ones. “And what makes you think I wouldn’t want this?”

Fear born of your heart, insecurity born of your nerves, damned logic born of your head– there are really so many reasons he wouldn’t want this, wouldn’t want you. But you don’t want to be too transparent, not when this adventure could all be over very soon. You say as much.

“Well, our days could be numbered.” Then your lips continue. “Perhaps there is someone else you would rather be unwinding?” The question slips out of you, an unbidden, unwelcome concern courtesy of the fear building in your chest.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, response quick, tone biting. His lips are pressed in a tight line, the muscles in his neck tense as he clenches his jaw.

Gods, you’d known your heart would lead you astray. Here you are, facing an Astarion unlike any that had made a home in your bedroll. An Astarion made of sharp edges and cutting words. Expression closed, mouth a tight line, you find his change in demeanor aggravating. You bristle at his accusation. “No, Astarion. I don’t want that. If I did, I wouldn’t be here, speaking with you. Though you’re making me regret doing that much now.”

He tilts back at your words, leaning back on the heels of his feet as if thrown off balance. “Then why did you even come over? To reject me then to–to taunt me?”

You had meant to do none of that. Really, you’d only come over out of habit, to see him, to… spend time with him. But it’s hard to say so without being entirely too forthcoming with your feelings. You wish that you could put your feelings into words, however it’s your burden to bear, not his. He has more than enough on his plate between the Absolute and Raphael’s deal.

So you shake your head at him. “I didn’t mean to reject you, Astarion. I hadn’t come here for sex at all.”

Once more, he asks the question you do not want to answer. “Then why did you even come over?”

You could lie. It’s as easy as breathing for you– it’s how you and Astarion had grown so close so quickly. You should lie, you tell yourself. But one look into his crimson, pleading eyes and the lie dies on your lips.

He looks hurt. So genuinely confused at your presence in front of him, deeply convinced that you could only be here for one thing and one thing only. And you know then that you can’t lie.

“I wanted to see you,” you say, the honest words tightening your throat on their way out, You haven’t told him how you feel, but you may as well have, with the way the words sound utterly, sinfully soft, a secret lost on the cold wind of the Shadow-Cursed night.

“You… wanted to see me?” he repeats, tone losing all of its edge, losing any of its structure at all.

You nod silently, uncertain if more words would help or hurt the situation.

To that, Astarion only blinks. His mouth opens, head tilting in that cautiously inquisitorial way, as he asks, “And then what?”

There was no ‘and then’ in your mind. Merely the need to see him, spend time with him, even after spending an entire dark, dreary day with him. But you suppose he wouldn’t understand that if you said it. So you need to come up with something concrete, a reason to be here beyond words…

“I was wondering if you wanted to share a bedroll tonight. To sleep,” you say, infusing enough confidence in your words that you can hardly note the nerves. You expect Astarion wouldn’t notice them at all.

His defenses noticeably drop, his shoulders sagging in relief, and a sigh escapes him as he shakes his head at you wryly. “Well, why didn’t you just say so, darling? I understand that not everyone has my stamina, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

You want to roll your eyes, defend your honor as it hangs on by a thread, but you’ve narrowly avoided disaster and you’re not proud enough to ruin that. Instead you play into the role, ignoring the dull twinge that twists through your heart. “I wasn’t sure you would be so magnanimous,” you say, giving him the slightest bow of your head. “I should have known.”

“That you should have,” he says with a breathy laugh and he sounds almost… relieved?

More than anything, you want to ask him, why? Are you relieved that my feelings have stayed silent? That this thing between us remains uncomplicated? That you don’t have to find yourself a new distraction?

But your questions stay just as buried as your feelings do.

Your damnable feelings, which seem to threaten to burst out each time his eyes linger too long, with every touch you weren’t expecting. It must be a talent, holding them in as you do now.

They stay hidden as he extends a hand to you, inviting you into his tent with a warm smile and a, “Shall we?”

You keep them dormant as you follow, tucking your head into the now-familiar red structure, narrowly avoiding the mess he’s left inside.

They almost slip to the surface as he pulls you down onto his lap, and a heat rises between you as natural as steam from a hot spring.

It’s an invitation, of course. One last effort from Astarion for something more tonight, for you to be won over by his beauty and charm. But there’s nothing to be won over because you are already his.

You wish he could tell, from your drunken declarations, from the way you’ve made a second home in his arms. Maybe he can tell, but refuses to acknowledge it– you could hardly blame him if that were to be the case. But you also can’t blame yourself for barely holding back.

Even now, seated in his lap, staring into his mesmerizing red eyes, you’re not certain you could trust a single word that comes out of your lips. So you throw every word you’ve ever known, could ever know, to the wayside. And simply kiss him.

You press your lips to his slowly, contact feather-light as you balance on his thighs. Bracing yourself with a hand on his chest, you lean in, locking your lips together fully.

They move together easily, dance partners on a familiar dance floor, to a practiced tune, but when you think of all of the things you wish you could say, an urgency rises in you– a deep-seated need to tell him how you feel, even if only through this.

So you kiss him harder, your hands holding him all the tighter. You kiss him with every word unspoken, every intangible feeling rising in your chest, every single ounce of you that he’s already won, if only he were willing to claim it.

Astarion moves to deepen the kiss, placing a hand on the back of your head, the other on the small of your back, not understanding where your desperation comes from. Misunderstanding your intent altogether.

Of course, what was I thinking? you wonder to yourself as you pull away, panting lightly. That some magical kiss could make this man realize my feelings, could make him love me back?

But you’re not in some copper novel. This man harbors no hidden feelings for you. Only a deep need to lose himself, and you happen to be the person he’s chosen to do that with.

So, despite the confusion in his face, you crawl off of his lap. Despite the way his hand trails along your side as you lay down, you don’t get back up. You merely say, “It’s getting late, we should get some rest.”

Astarion murmurs his agreement, but you can hear the reluctance in his tone, see the bewildered expression on his face as he lies down, all of his clothing still covering his body.

You could laugh at the absurdity of it all, how unnerved he is, how deeply your chest aches– gods, this didn’t go well at all. But you don’t laugh. Only a sigh escapes you as you wrap your arms around him, as you press your body to his with all of the affection you cannot contain.

His arms stumble, they falter, but they find their way around you as well. An awkward embrace from a man who has no clue how he’s arrived at this point.

It’s difficult at a moment like this to remember that you shouldn’t love this man. That there are a dozen reasons to tamp down your feelings, a dozen more to run away. This was never supposed to be more than a single night of fun.

But, face tucked into the crook of his neck, hands clutching his loose shirt, nose filled with his carefully curated scent– you can almost pretend that this is real.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion is bad at feelings #spawn astarion #hurt comfort #lightly angsty #mainly pining

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 5

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: I’m trying something new here—been reading The Shining by Steven King and I like how the “thoughts” are presented :)

warnings: general angst

word count: 5,414

-Part 4- -Part 6-

Sharp, caramel eyes latch to your own from across the room.

Beneath his fingertips rest the planets of your solar system, whirring softly as they rotate, cogs clicking together. Your orrery.

Shoulders tense—it’s fine machinery, incredibly delicate. You don’t like the idea of him being so close to something so dear to you. He hasn’t proven to be particularly caring, or thoughtful. Anxiety closes around your throat. “Eris,” you greet, moving forward stiffly. “What are you doing here?” Why is he in the House of Wind, in the heart of the Night Court. Why is he in Velaris.

He taps against your world, the mechanical clicking coming to a stop, the system halting to his will. Retracts his hand. “You’re really kept out of the loop, aren’t you?” He asks, eyes gleaming, fingertips grazing the blade at his hip. Your brow narrows, “that’s not an answer.” You eye him warily, how close he is to that precious gift your sister had given you.

Lips lift into that familiar viper’s smile, “I’m here to have a meeting with your High Lord and Lady. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you. Surprised too you’re allowed near me at all after our last encounter—do they not particularly mind your safety?” He inquires, moving around the kitchen table. You shift in response, mirroring his movements, the opening steps to a dance you’re uninterested in.

“I live here,” you counter, “why should I yield my ground to you. It’s my home.” He quirks a neatly groomed brow, taking another step around the table, so you’ve switched positions. “You don’t live with the rest of your lovely family? Your younger sister has a home deeper within this city, but you choose to stay here, in this lonely place?”

“It’s my home,” you repeat, “and I like the quiet. Can you understand that?”

Eris’ brow narrows at the perceived insult, and you move closer to the table, to your orrery. “What sort of nonsense question is that?” He asks sharply.

“You live in a palace, don’t you? Big; spacious? Filled with people and riches?” You ask, narrowing your eyes on the male. His lips quirk, “more riches than you can even comprehend.” Eyes run over you, judgementally, “more beauty, too.”

“Filled with people, I’ll bet,” you say, ignoring the comment with practiced ease. At least Azriel’s helped with desensitising you to such things. “Servants, courtiers, maids. Does your home— Does your father’s palace ever sleep? Do you ever get any peace?”

“If you’re prying to see if there’s a single moment I might be vulnerable to an assassination attempt, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. There isn’t a single person who steps foot in my palace without authorisation.” He replies smoothly, caramel eyes gleaming.

Your lips tilt quietly, “what a lovely cage you live in, Eris.”

He stiffens, then his mouth twists itself into something resembling a smile—too serpentine. “Is this your preferred battleground? Verbal warfare? You’re quite talented at it.” You don’t mistake it for a compliment. “Tell me: which of them taught you to speak like that?”

Your brow dips in confusion. “It’s not warfare—It’s observation. There’s nothing aggressive about it.”

“No? No animosity in your prying? I could have sworn I detected a bite back by the river. Where have your claws gone? Were they clipped just like the hell-cat’s were?” He smiles—unnerving to be faced with it. “Bring them out. We can have ourselves a sparring match.” A hand raises in mocking challenge, beckoning you forward.

Hairs raise at the back of your neck, skin prickling with that itch that lies just below the scratch of your nails. Burning your fingertips. Dangerous. Manipulative. Manipulative.

“And where did you learn?” You fire back. “Who taught you to be so insidious? Or do you know no different?”

Caramel burns into you, charring your insides. “An answer for an answer.”

He’s got you. Knows you won’t rise to his challenge. So you switch methods.

Eyes flick down to the machinery on the table, “it’s very beautiful, isn’t it?”

If he’s caught off guard, he doesn’t show it. Well-accustomed to being on the constant edge. “A waste of time. The tinkerer has simply welded a few cogs and screws together—basic metal work.”

Your gaze rises to his, a hint of amusement within as you take a seat to better peer at the orrery. “You’re trying so hard to make it seem insignificant, yet you were studying our planet, so you’re clearly familiar with its structure.” Fingertips graze across the gilded metal of the sphere, the only one occupying the habitable zone. “I doubt you’ll answer my question, so I can only presume you’re used to hiding your interests.”

“Presume away,” he drawls, “it’s no bother to me.”

“No bother,” you echo, spinning the orrery, cogs ticking, globes rotating smoothly. “You hide like there’s something to be embarrassed about. What’s wrong with being fascinated by the world?” You play with the system, again falling under its spell, admiring the intricate carvings, how the tinkerer has rendered texture into metal—made it appear soft.

“You speak as if you’re knowledgeable of it. How much can you know having only spent two years in our land, feeding off our history?” He counters, stepping toward the table, eyes flicking carelessly over the mechanism. With forced lightness. Your brow furrows as you peer at him, “what’s the meaning of having endless time to discover if you don’t use it? I know about the world because I’ve read about it, and I’ve read about it because I want to know. Two years isn’t long to study something as vast as this, but unlike you, I have time to myself, to do things for myself that I want. And this—” you gesture to the small solar system, “—is what I’m interested in.”

The corners of Eris’ mouth tilt down, stepping finally closer to the table, as if accepting a conversation is inevitable. “And you think it is wise to invest your time in something as academic as this? You think you’ll be allowed to study it? Pursue your interest in it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You counter, absently tracing the rings of one of the planets—how beautiful they are! “I’m immortal now. Why shouldn’t I spend it doing things I like? Not all of us want to be sour and miserable.”

His lips quirk, “you maybe immortal, but you’re also detrimentally female. If you think your sex will not be an obstacle in your study, then you’re much more naive than I thought.”

Your brow dips, “and you’re awfully cynical. The library is filled with books, and is run by females, so no—I don’t think my sex will be an obstacle,” you snap. Take a breath in. He’s good at getting under your skin. You have to remember that’s his game. And you can’t fall for it. Otherwise Azriel will be right.

Eris opens his mouth, and you just know you don’t want to hear whatever rubbish he’s about to spit out. So you divert by returning to your wonderful orrery, “if you had to choose between these two planets to stand on for five minutes—” you point to the globes either side of your own, “—which would you go for? Air shortage aside?”

He rolls his eyes, irritated. “I do not have an interest in your childish device, and I did not come here to be lectured on how great the world is, nor anything beyond it. I have much more pressing things to concern myself with. The fact alone you choose to entertain yourself with knowledge that will never impact anyone is proof of your naiveté.”

You ignore the jab, even if it scratches its nails down your mental walls. “If you set foot on this one—” point to the one further from the centre, “—you would be crushed in seconds. Do you know why?”

The viper’s smile again, “as I have already said, I have no childish infatuation with things beyond my control. You’re wasting your time.”

“This planet,” you carry on, pointedly ignoring him, “spins nearly five times faster than our own, meaning gravity—the stuff that holds us to the—”

“I know what gravity is,” he snaps, fire lighting in his eyes.

You blink, startled by the outburst. He watches you silently. Doesn’t make a move to interrupt you again.

“Meaning the gravity,” you say slowly, waiting for him to jump again. He doesn’t. “…is stronger.” You blink again, but he makes no comment. “As a result, the days there last mere hours. How can that not fascinate you? How many other quirks are out there? Even limiting it to our own planet?”

His caramel eyes narrow. “Careful,” he warns. “People have been put to death for talking as you are.”

You look at him, confused. “People in your court? Why on earth would anyone be killed for this?”

“Regardless of court,” he drawls, as if it’s obvious. “For suggesting something other than the Mother. On grounds of blasphemy. The study of science is inherently rooted against her.”

Eyes widen as you stare at him.

“Is that what’s stopping you?” You ask, incredulously. “You’re a favoured heir to the throne, aren’t you? What good is that title if you’re unable to benefit from it?”

His brow narrows, “there are infinite ways I benefit from it. If you’re too ignorant to figure them out, then it speaks volumes to your wisdom.”

You ignore that, pushing forward. “But Rhys has one in his study—an orrery. It can’t be that serious?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re doubting yourself. “Is it?”

“Hasn’t your sister witnessed first-hand how selective the world can be in who it favours? Did you not listen when I told you your sex would present difficulties?” He says sharply. “If you’re set on remaining ignorant, I see no point in continuing this conversation.”

Spine straightens as you stare at him, surprised.

“If I don’t know something, then explain it to me,” you say quietly. “How can I learn if I don’t know where I’m lacking?”

“It is not my responsibility to educate you,” he snaps. “Neither my responsibility to entertain you with conversation. If you prove to be dull, I have no reason to waste my time on you.”

“I agree it’s not your responsibility to educate me,” you say, frowning, “but if you have knowledge of something I don’t, and refuse to share it, how can you stand there and remain irritated with me? When you have the ability to change that?”

Eris’ lips twist again. “Like I said: it’s a waste of time.”

Your brows curve in frustration and disappointment. “You’d rather allow your irritation to fester than do something to prevent it? If you have a problem, and the means to repair it, but choose not to… Well, it speaks volumes to what sort of High Lord you might be.” As soon as the title leaves your tongue, it smacks back into you, the weight registering in your mind. The male before you really might become High Lord—inherit the power and responsibility that comes with it.

He’ll become responsible for his whole Court—yet prefers inactivity when faced with a problem that does not directly impact him.

“Why spend my energy on something so useless? You are only one person—why should I waste my breath? You clearly have no concept of how important and limited time is to someone in my position, in spite of immortality,” he states coldly, caramel darkening to something icy. “I prioritise matters I deem to be important; you waste your time flicking through old books that would better serve a fire.”

“I’m wasting my time on something I love.” You reply sharply, skin itching again, prickling at your fingertips. Sick of having it looked down on. Of being looked down on.

Lips twist in a faint, serpentine smile, eyes gleaming with predatory focus. He descends into the seat opposite you, moving with the grace of a spider, spiralling down into the centre of his web to meet his prey. Suck it dry; liquidate its insides. “Now that piques my interest.”

You don’t need to look down to know the colour your skin has changed to. You do anyway, eyes widening as you take in the faint, radiant green of your fingertips. You stare silently, noting the iridescence.

“I gather my brother’s mate is a seer, while the hell-cat yielded her power,” his smile is one crafted from centuries of cultivated misery, sharp edges created to keep himself safe. Carving his own bones into weaponry. “Could Rhysand have kept you secret because you have no control over it? Even after all this time?”

You bite down on the fear—it’s the second time it’s sparked up in broad daylight. Out in the open. Where anyone can see. “So persistent with the theory of secrecy,” you manage, voice coming out smooth, for the most part. “Maybe you didn’t know, because my power is nothing. It doesn’t heal, doesn’t hurt—nothing besides a dim light in the dark. It’s utterly useless.”

Eris doesn’t look convinced. “The cauldron wouldn’t give you a meaningless power. You haven’t tried hard enough.”

“Why is it so unbelievable?” You counter, in a hurry to end the conversation so you can return to the cover of your room. “Elain is the only one gifted with a real power. Nesta—” Are you allowed to tell him? He already knows she yielded it, so you see no point in hiding it. “Nesta took something. Ripped it away from the cauldron. Why would I be given anything meaningful?” You ask, and see the interest drain from his eyes. “Out of the four of us, Elain’s the only one with a working power.”

“And that’s why you’ve had so much time to yourself,” he drawls, malice again swimming in his whiskey eyes. “No training to do, nothing useful to preoccupy yourself with. Just steadily draining resources, and researching nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense,” you fire back weakly. “And it’s not heresy either. —nor blasphemy, or whatever name you want to give it to try and convince me it’s wrong.”

His eyes harden, “it denies the power of the Mother. Everything was made when she tipped out the cauldron. Science seeks to disprove that.”

“It shows the beauty of the world!” You insist, vaguely aware of the colour growing more intense as you press your hands into the surface of the table, rising to your feet. “It shows how intricate, and delicately woven it is! The only thing it does is prove there is something out there. How can you look up into the night sky, or gaze across the world, filled with magic, and life, and think any other way?” You argue, pushing the orrery across the table. “There are patterns in our world. Strange, and wonderful patterns, if you know how to spot them. The perfect rotations of our world around the great star, how everything intertwines with one another, like those cogs and screws you were trying to make light of. How can a world be so intricately faceted by chance? There has to be a designer—a creator. The one who set everything in motion to become as it is now.”

Your heart spikes as you think about it—how great she must be. The vastness of her capabilities.

“Science does not deny the existence of the Mother—it allows us to study the depth of her. Or something close to it.”

Eris’ eyes flick down to the solar system that you’ve pushed between his hands—now studying the details. His attention drags back up to you, noting how your pupils have dilated, heart beating quickly, nails digging into the surface of the table, gleaming with iridescence. A slow smile as he makes the connection between your emotions and the glow.

It would be a shame to tell you.

He’ll watch you figure it out for yourself—even if you have to stumble your way to the end.

“You’re skilled with words,” he says at last. “Has anyone told you that?”

You regard him silently, a little taken aback. Almost exhausted from the output of energy. Who knew it could be so tiring sharing an interest. How draining excitement is. “You’re just saying that,” you murmur quietly, fatigue weighing on your tongue from the outburst. You know he’s manipulative. You won’t fall for it.

His smile grows a little wider, into something vaguely normal. “You might even have avoided execution with a speech like that.”

Strangely, it doesn’t feel like he’s lying. It’s not much to go off, not much to rely on. He’s had centuries to perfect this act, would be flawless at it by now. And yet…

And yet. It’s enough for you to believe him. Trust your gut, and it’s telling you he’s being sincere.

Strange indeed.

————

Mor had interrupted almost immediately after, making you spring back from the table, seeing her blonde head appear in the kitchen, eyes hard when they landed on the Autumn Court male.

She’d promptly whisked him away to whichever room they were having their meeting in, and you’d hastily tucked your hands at your back, concealing glowing fingertips from her sharp gaze. You’d hated yourself a little in that moment, for hiding it from her. For not being brave enough to face them head on.

It was nothing compared to the sharp, stabbing laceration in your gut when Eris noted the movement. Offered you a slow, vulpine smile.

It’s been days since then, and every step seems to echo your doom. Every footfall in the hallway, every chirp of voices—you’re convinced they know. Because how much longer is he going to keep it a secret? How long before he asks something from you? Something you can’t give, because you don’t have access to them. To any of them. Not in the way he would like.

A series of knocks is landed to you door, and the book slides from your hands. Yelp when it nearly hits your foot. Feyre really needs to start walking a little louder so things like that don’t happen. You sigh heavily.

“Come in,” you call, hastily collecting up the book, plonking it down atop the precarious stack at your bedside. A small gust of dust motes shoot out from the pages, and you cough, turning to the window. Opening it to invite in the crisp, midday air. Open the curtains a little wider, too.

You turn to face her, here probably to ask you to another dinner. It’s been nearly a fortnight since the last one, when Elain had invited you to the…mortal lands. You really don’t know what to call that part, now.

Hazel cuts into you, air catches in your lungs—maybe it’s the dust.

You stare. Stare, and stare, but he doesn’t morph, or transfigure into your sister. Shadows crawl at his feet, slink over his wings, kept tight to his body. It’s strange to see him so tense.

“What are you…” you trail off, shaking your head slowly. “No.”

Azriel’s mouth purses. Remains in the doorway, not even one step away from the threshold. “We should— I would like to speak with you.” You stare longer; shake your head again.

(you are a proving to be a burden.)

“I don’t… No. I don’t want to,” you manage. “I’m in the middle of something right now.” His eyes flick about the room, and you shift to conceal the books at your bedside. “You don’t look busy,” he says slowly, aware how quickly things can turn sour. “That’s because I’m talking to you,” you reply, equally carefully.

He pauses, eyes once again scanning your room, then, “may I come in?”

Spine goes rigid; his pupils dilate. “I want to clear the air between us,” he supplies. “It would be better to do so in private.” He has a point. Feyre’s added a sound barrier to your room after the mess of last time, but… It’s midday, no one should be here. The only people who occasionally dip in are Elain and Feyre. Nesta doesn’t really…the two of you aren’t as close. “Okay,” you find yourself saying, dipping your head, “but I need to—” you gesture to the clothes on your floor. The general mess.

He nods, throat bobbing before he steps inside, the door clicking behind him as he keeps to the clear spaces on the floor. Few and far between.

You swallow, prying your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “What did you want to… Where do you want to start?” You ask, returning to the far end of your room to push the windows wider—as far as they can go. The breeze plays with strands of your hair, cleaning out the stuffy room, smelling slightly of mildew and parchment. Mostly dust, though.

“Your feelings for me…” he begins quietly, the words blaring throughout the room. “How long have you—”

“You know. Start somewhere else,” you interrupt, nails digging into the wooden frame, nudging the fabric of the curtains with your foot. He pauses, and you remain turned away from him, heart spiking. But he acquiesces.

“Okay…” he breathes heavily, followed by the faint stretch of leather as he folds his arms. Flexes his fingers before doing so. Still, you don’t look at him. “The talk with Eris.” It’s your turn to sigh, shifting on your feet to face him, wind blowing in gently from behind, soothing the heat between your shoulder blades, wrapping your cardigan a little tighter.

You don’t question how he knows about that short chat. Maybe Mor mentioned it—she’s the only one who saw, anyway. And you can’t imagine Azriel would have allowed it to go on that long if his shadows were aware. There’s a sour taste at the back of your throat.

“He just asked why I lived up here, instead of with the rest of you,” you mumble, scanning hastily for something to do. “I just said I liked the quiet, and that’s it.” Fingers grip the hem of a top, carrying it to your bed to fold away. The first of many.

Silence stretches between you, taut and tenuous. Hairs rise at the back of your neck, skin prickling.

“You didn’t mention that last time,” he says slowly, neutrally. Too controlled to be calm.

Your brows draw together. “I didn’t,” you confirm, picking up another top, folding it. It’s slightly out of place, the seams not lining up, and you redo it. Set it above the other. “Why not?” He asks tentatively. “It helps to know exactly things like that.” You stand straighter, looking at him—he does indeed have his arms crossed. Uncrosses them when you face him. Also straightens.

“We haven’t spoken since then,” you say slowly.

Eyes lock briefly when you both connect the dots.

“You’ve spoken with him since?” It’s phrased as a question, but…

Throat rolls, eyes turn away, body following shortly after, grabbing a pile of three garments. Set them on the bed. Hands moving like clockwork.

Head dips in confirmation.

Silence digs deeper. A shovel in a grave mound.

“When we had a meeting?” He asks, voice again taking on that controlled tone. Body coiled tight. Features neutral. “Yeah,” you murmur, “when you had that meeting.” Set the skirt atop the pile.

“And he asked why you live alone?” There’s an implication there. What is it? So many different angles to study it from—not a pleasing thought. “Not directly,” you mumble, “he said it was interesting I chose to live here when Feyre had a house deeper in the city. I think.”

“What you do you mean, you think?” He asks steadily, remaining statue-like in your peripherals.

“It was a few days ago,” you supply. “It didn’t stick with me.” That part didn’t, at least. He nods, reasoning it out in his head. Understandable.

“Was there anything else?” He asks instead. You know he marks the way your shoulders tense, even if you operate otherwise normally. “No,” you mumble, turning away from him, “nothing important.”

“We’ve been over this,” he reminds. “You don’t—…” Sighs. “Just tell me everything, and I’ll decide what’s important.” Why does this keep happening?

“You can’t trust him,” he adds gently, a touch softer than before.

You nod your head quickly, “I know.” Quiet reigns again, and he’s debating something. “Just say it,” you murmur, straightening the stack of books, skittish fingers fumbling with some of the loose papers. You should probably separate them out into a neater pile—they’ll only get more crinkled otherwise.

“I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” he supplies carefully.

“Okay.” Nod once. “I won’t.”

Picture the way his throat rolls, fingers flex at his sides. “Do you really understand why you can’t trust him?”

You pick up a few books from the stack, depositing them on your desk, moving to sort through which ones can be returned to the library. Mentally cataloguing their numbers and titles that correlate with set aisles. “I do,” you say, seeing how that would have been misinterpreted. He does you the courtesy of not asking you to explain it. “So you understand why you have to be careful about what you say. What you let him know,” he reasons softly.

Something heavy settles in your gut at the reminder, but you keep your lips shut.

“Eris is a snake,” he continues. “I can’t stress enough how wary you should be around him. And certainly never by yourself.” Eyes briefly meet over that last part, then your own dart away, returning to organising the catastrophe on your desk. Shifting through papers and diagrams. Charts and catalogues. Star formations and little doodles. “If you give him something, he will find a way to use it. It’s imperative you never let him know anything important.” You look at him over your shoulder, temporarily removing your focus from the lovely books, “what counts as important?”

Azriel sighs, leans against the tall frame of your bed, one shoulder propped against it calmly. He looks relaxed—it’s intentional. A distortion to make things seem fine; to keep you calm.

He raises one hand, gestures between you and him. “Us,” he says, reluctantly. “Things like this—they’re private. Emotional problems, and squabbles or…complications,” he expands. “You can’t let him know about anything like that. If he thinks there’s weakness, or a rift he can exploit, he will.”

Breath catches in your chest, and you snap you attention off him, forcefully reattaching it to the books you’ve laid out. Which pile means what?

“I don’t…” you begin. Swallow. Unstick your tongue. “I don’t know about any of your relations. Within…within Rhys’…” You fumble, unsure how to describe them all.

(Us.)

“Family?” He supplies. “Within your family?”

“No,” you sigh. “Beyond my sisters. I don’t—…I mean, I don’t know what’s going on with Cassian, or Mor, or Amren, either. I don’t—… There’s nothing he can get from me.”

Azriel watches you silently, skin prickling beneath the weight of his focus. “They’re your family, too,” he says gently. Almost tenderly. “Not just Rhys’, or Feyre’s. You’re her older sister, so you’re a part of it all, too.”

(A single pair of pearl earrings.)

Hazel locks with your own, and you release a soft laugh, beams of amusements finally lighting your eyes, mirth building on your mouth. How long has it been since you’ve laughed because of him?

Azriel narrows his eyes, and the laughter dies on your tongue. “Oh.” The word whispers out on an exhale, subconsciously taking a step backward. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I thought—” You shake your head. “You’re just saying that.” He remains silent, watching you intently.

“They don’t—,” you fumble. Trying to find the words. “I mean, they—… We’re separate. Me, I mean. I’m not—”

“Yes you are.”

You shake your head, not accepting it. “You can’t expect me to believe that,” you mutter. “I’m not that naive.”

Azriel’s brow furrows. “Granted, you don’t make it easy. But you’re still part of it all.”

“So you—” You’re not sure if you can say it. “You don’t… You see me as family?”

It’s his turn to falter, coming up short. You shake your head in disbelief. “Azriel…”

His eyes narrow as he stares at you. Opens his mouth.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Let’s just… Let’s stay on track.” Otherwise it’s going to get ugly.

(you are a proving to be a burden.)

Lower lip trembles; you bite it, turning your attention to your desk. He’s quiet for a few moments, and the energy begins to settle.

“Why does family bother you so much?” He asks, quietly.

Breath whooshes from your lungs, and you place both your palms flat on the desk, so tired. “Because,” you sigh, eyelids weighing heavy. Massage the bridge of your nose with both your middle and forth fingers. “The feelings I have for you…those don’t belong to a family member.” Shame heats your cheeks, fingers covering you eyes. How many times do you have to say it?

“Why do you insist on targeting everything I’m uncomfortable talking about?” You ask, softly, hands remaining over your features, muffling you. Because if you don’t divert, he’ll target that, too. “You did the same in the air,” you whisper, “you get hung up on these tiny points and you can’t let them go and it’s…” You don’t know.

“It’s what?” He asks, coldly. Lip trembles at the tone, pushing away the dampness, lowering your hands. “Why do you do it?”

“It’s my job to get the details right,” he replies.

(Is this your preferred battleground? Verbal warfare?)

“I’m not your job, Azriel.”

“You are when you run off and have unmonitored chats with that male.”

“Eris, or Bas?” You ask quietly.

(You’re quite talented at it.)

He falters, then his jaw ticks, the muscle feathering. “We’ll talk about Bas in a minute,” he says. “For now, we’re talking about how you behave around Eris.” You stare at him. Blink. “I don’t know how to make it clearer,” he continues, watching the ceiling, head tipped upward slightly. Eyes flick down, looking as though you’re below him.

Lowers his head.

“Eris prefers verbal warfare,” he begins, repeating the same old things he’s already told you. Fingertips begin to itch.

Hazel pierces into you, muscle in his jaw tensing. “He’s good at it, too. Good enough to make all of us wary. Doesn’t that show enough?”

(You’re skilled with words, has anyone told you that?)

“I got that impression.”

He nods, no more than a gentle dip of his chin. “That’s good,” he sighs. “It’s a good start.” Something twists in your gut at the words.

“Just don’t go near him,” Azriel continues, unaware of the numbness that’s slowly spreading down your back. “Okay.” Hands move automatically, and you watch distantly as they go.

He sighs, “so tell me what happened most recently. All of it. Then I can tell you what’s good and what’s not.”

“I don’t remember all of it,” you mumble.

Why are you so tired? It’s not the same fatigue as after talking with Eris. That was pleasant. Your mind was tired from working. Now… You’re just tired of resisting.

“You said he asked about you living alone,” he prompts. You want to go to bed. Want to close the curtains and crawl deep under the sheets.

You nod distantly. “And you said you liked the quiet.”

Nod again.

“So what happened after that?” He’s gotten quieter, sensing your disengagement.

You shrug weakly. “We just talked.”

“This is what I mean,” he says gently, attempting to soften the words that need to be said. “Eris doesn’t do idle chatter. You have to start understanding that.”

You shake your head, denying, “he didn’t ask anything else.”

“But you were talking?” He asks pointedly, doubt clear.

You go quiet. Shoulders slope.

Azriel sighs, standing upright. There’s no use talking to you like this.

“Let’s try this another time. When you’re more… When you’re feeling better.” He waits a little for a response. Feel the weight of his gaze on your hands. You don’t respond, and he dips his head in acknowledgement. Allowing your peace.

But still, when he leaves, you’re torn between crying, and wanting to run after him.

Nothing’s gotten better.

You still crave his attention, even though it’s begun to hurt.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei

#CBMTHY #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You #CBMTHY Part 5 #Azriel #Azriel angst #Azriel x reader #Eris #Eris Vanserra #Azriel x reader angst #angst #acotar #multi part fic #series

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year ago

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don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: the honeymoon pt. 1

summary: the infinite undressing and undoing of mrs. berzatto -- or how you and carmy spend your mini-moon at the langham hotel.

warnings: so much smut so this chapter is 18+ only!! also the smut is from carmys pov and im shaking!! husband!carmy who comes with a warning label of his own, swearing, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns

wc: 4.9k

listen to: the official don't want to walk alone playlist

a/n: surprise! i decided to split the honeymoon into two chapters because it was getting way too long and i refuse to cut any of it so there's that.

on another note: this series, this world, is so special to me because it is my first: first series on tumblr, first series for carmy, first time writing fanfic again as an adult that i actually followed through with. it was the universe that got me through unemployment. the fic that helped me fall in love with writing again, so i will always hold this world near and dear to my heart. but aside from occasional one shots here and there, it may be time to let them ride off into the sunset, into their happily ever after. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part three | masterlist | part five

Before he can even get the door properly closed, you’re all over him, your mouth covering his own with kisses that feel like promises, as your hands multi-task, fumbling with the door to get in closed the rest of the way.

“As much as I loved celebrating with our friends and family, I’ve been waiting for this moment all damn day,” you say, in between kisses, satisfied as soon as you hear the clicking sound of the door locking.

“Hmmm and what’s that?” Carmy asks you, coyly.

His lips curve into a cocky smile mid-kiss, and he hears you chuckle, knowing exactly what buttons to push to wind you up.

“Getting you alone, Mr. Berzatto,” you giggle underneath your breath, taking a few steps away from him.

Carmy watches you in awe, his eyes traveling from your kiss-swollen lips, to the way your hands begin to trail down your body, to the careful steps that you take backwards. His breath hitches in his throat as he watches your fingers delicately undo the first button on this goddamn blazer dress he thinks he’ll never be able to get out of his mind – not after tonight, that’s for sure. He watches them dance over the second button from the top down, peeling it open, as a bright pop of red begins to peek out from underneath your dress.

“Carm?” you ask him, your eyes flickering down to your hands as you undo the third button, then the fourth, before returning your heated gaze to him.

“Yes, baby,” is all he can reply, as if he’s under your spell already.

Carmy gulps, his pants feeling incredibly tight, the air noticeably thick as he watches your little strip tease.

It’s just a few more buttons before your dress falls open, revealing the crimson red set you’re wearing underneath.

Red Floral Lace. Mesh. See-through.

“Come get me,” you beckon, as you let the dress fall to the floor.

“Fuck,” he growls on an exhale, before charging towards you.

It’s all hot, all-consuming kisses as he pushes you back onto the California king-sized bed, eagerly following as he lays his body on top of yours. Long gone is the sport coat he was wearing earlier, and he thanks whatever deities he may owe this to that he really only has to get three articles of clothing off.

Carmy pulls away, because he’s gotta get one goddamn good look at his wife.

His wife.

His breath picks up, as he drags his fingertips over the straps of your red lace bra, down to the mesh cups, watching your face twist in pleasure as his fingers run over your already-perky nipples.

“You like?” you ask him, a small amount of vulnerability in your voice as you do.

“Do I-, baby, have you seen yourself?” he stammers, in disbelief that you could even ask, only to be met with a smirk because you know you look good.

But that’s not what you’re asking. You want to know if Carmy likes it, because you have much more where this came from – lingerie, you mean. And instead of telling you, Carmy has bigger and better plans to show you instead. He begins to leave hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, across your chest, nipping at the top of the bra cup with his teeth when he gets there.

Carmy’s eyes move to yours, watching you for a reaction so he knows that he’s giving you exactly what you want. To his delight, you hiss in pleasure, arching your back as an invitation, offering your body to him in a silent effort, begging for more.

“This why you put on this dress?” he rasps, in reference to the fact that you had insisted on doing an outfit change from the courthouse to the reception. His tongue snakes out, running over the mesh fabric that barely covers the nipple of your left breast.

You moan, letting out a small giggle in between breaths, as you cook up a witty reply.

“‘S not like I could wear anything underneath my wedding dress. Had to come up with a plan B,” you counter him, just another part of your seduction.

Carmy lets out a well earned-groan and it’s music to your ears as he continues to move down your body, worshiping you with his mouth, his tongue, muttering to himself that he’s not sure whether he would’ve preferred that – you in your wedding dress, nothing underneath – or this, all fire and lace.

But he doesn’t have time to think, settling on the fact that as long as he gets to have you, he’s not sure he cares.

“This is so fucking sexy, baby,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He almost forgets to breathe for a moment, as it dawns on him that you’re his, and that you’re here, all spread out for him tonight, aching for him and only him.

Before you can get in a word, he’s pushing your legs apart, settling down in between them to get exactly what he wants. You let out a gasp of surprise, considering he hasn’t taken off our panties, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulls them to one side instead.

“Fuck,” he hears you whine, as he buries his face between your thighs. “Oh my god, Carmy.”

His favorite thing.

Tasting you. Bringing you the kind of euphoric pleasure that makes you feel high.

He loves the way you say his name, and how it changes, when his tongue traces tight circles around your clit; how it changes when he flattens his tongue up against your wet heat, painting broad strokes; how you cry out when he’s busy tracing abstract shapes across you till you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. Carmy moans against you, as he feels you thread your hands through his golden locks, and the sensation of your fingertips running along his scalp goes straight to his cock.

“Carmy, don’t stop!”

And how could he? How could he deny you the one thing you’re asking for? His mouth on you, bringing you higher and higher, winding up that coil buried so deep inside you that it has to explode, knowing that it’s him and only him that makes you feel this way.

You’re pulling at his hair, grabbing at the bedsheets, bucking your hips up into his mouth, writhing underneath the weight of his hands that hold you in place. He can’t keep his hands off of you, desperate to feel the way your body responds to him at every touch – holding your hips down, pressing your legs wider, grabbing at your breasts as he dips his tongue inside of you.

“Oh my God. Carmy, fuck. Don’tstoppleasedon’tstopdon’tyoudare-!”

The feeling of your orgasm ripping through you completely rendering you speechless as you come. Carmy slows down the movements of his mouth, working you through your orgasm, wanting you to know that he’s here for you, that he’s got you as you come down. He uses his tongue to clean you up, watching you carefully as you try your best to catch your breath, committing this image to his memory.

There are two places he feels like this – triumphant, untouchable, on top of the world – in the last push of a hard won dinner service, and when he’s right here, between your legs, in the falling action of your climax as he waits for you to come back to him.

Carmy waits for you, watches as your eyes begin to flutter open, your breath still heavy, as you look down on him.

“Shit. Who knew married sex would hit so differently,” you pant, let out an incredulous laugh from how hard you just came.

Carmy grins up at you, and he loves the way it feels as you pull him towards you once more. Your hands are desperate, needy, impatient as they tear through the buttons on his shirt, practically dragging the top over his head and tossing it onto the floor with a vigor he knows only comes from how much you need him.

“You good, baby?” he asks, cockily, because after years of this, he thinks he’s earned the right to know just how good he always makes you feel.

“Just need you, Carm,” you rasp, propping yourself up so that you can chase his mouth with yours. “Need you so much. Need you inside of me.”

“I know, sweet girl. I-,” he begins to say, before freezing, as if there’s an alarm going off in his head, his voice full this time as he swears, as if he’s just forgotten a really important date:

“Ffffffffffffffffuck.”

“Everything okay?” you ask, sitting up this time in response to his sobering pitch.

Carmy can feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he flushes red, completely embarrassed that he’s put the heat of the moment on pause for this, knowing fully that he won’t be able to stop thinking about it now.

“Yeah just I just gotta-... give me like… five seconds. I promise,” he nods, though his eyes silently plead with you.

You shake your head as Carmy leaves you, his footsteps rapid and hurried as he practically sprints over to where you left the suitcases in the hallway. He swears underneath his breath, rummaging through his bag before finding a certain plastic tupperware, a feeling of relief washing over him. He can hear you laugh as he runs through the room, tucking it safely in the mini fridge, and he can only imagine that it’s quite the sight to see.

By the time he returns to the bed, cheeks flushed, and an apologetic look in his eyes, you’re sitting up on your knees, waiting for him with an amused look on your face.

“Do I want to know?” you ask, skeptically.

“You’ll thank me later,” he chuckles, still embarrassed. Shyly, as he steps towards the edge of the bed, he works up the nerve to ask, “Will you uh.. Think we can pick up where we left off?”

Still stunning as you were moments ago but now with that post-orgasm glow, you wrap your arms around Carmy’s neck, pulling him in closer so that he’s standing across from where you kneel.

“You can come back to bed. But lose the pants, jerk,” you reply, feigning disapproval.

He nods, eagerly taking off his pants as he joins you back on the bed in only his briefs.

Carmy’s intent on making it up to you, his mouth back on yours as soon as possible, lowering you to the bed as his hands grope at any exposed flesh he can. He’s dragging the straps of the red bra down, but refuses to take it off completely. Keep it on, he insists, because he can’t get the image of you riding him in it out of his mind. It’s not till he’s tearing your panties down your legs, tossing them somewhere on the floor that you know he really means business this time.

“No more interruptions,” he promises you, as he settles in between your legs, his briefs long gone and his hard, aching cock desperate to feel you.

As Carmy presses into you, reeling over the fact that every time feels like the first – it’s that glorious, that wondrous – you know, without all the trauma of your actual first time. You’re all tight, wet, heat pulsing around him and for once, he doesn’t have to think for a moment.

Carmy’s always been a thinker – an overthinker, really, calculating each and every move with strategy – rarely ever a doer because that’s just not who he got to be. But with you, inside of you, it’s all instinct, and breath, and I love yous, both in pursuit of your shared pleasure. In these moments, he gets to be a doer, responding to your every moan, taking the lead when he knows what will set you off, showing you just how much you turn him on with every kiss, every touch, every thrust.

It doesn’t take long for you to push him onto his back, reminding him that he has some making up to do for the earlier coitus interuptus and that he should let you fuck him instead.

But as you climb on top of him, turning around so that your back is to him, he swallows, admiring the view you’re so intent on giving him. He can picture it clearly, exactly – your head thrown back, biting down on your bottom lip, brow furrowed as you sink down onto him – even though he can’t see your face.

Instead, he listens to the way you whimper his name as you begin to move your hips, traces the curves of your body as you settle into a satisfying rhythm, digs the pads of his fingers into your hips and your ass because he just can’t not touch.

It’s music to his ears as you let out a keen-like moan when he begins to meet your hips with thrusts of his own, speeding up the perfect rhythm you’ve set. He can feel you squeezing around him, chasing your own high as you fuck yourself on him, and he can feel that familiar tightening at the bottom of his belly.

“Fuck,” he grits out, his jaw tightening as he can feel it coming.

All it would take was a few more thrusts, a vigorous pace, take hold of your hips and showing you just how he wants it. But instead, Carmy sits half way up, reaching out for you as he stills your hips against his. His movement causes you to shift as you realize he’s sitting all the way up, wrapping an arm around your waist, the new angle causing you to squeeze around him.

“Baby,” you whine, beginning to grind your hips in circles where you’re connected.

“I wanna see you. I wanna see you cum again,” he requests, his voice tender yet intent, as if he plans on embedding the words into your skin. And as he leaves little kisses against your shoulder blade, his words go straight to your heart.

“Okay,” you agree with a soft whisper.

Carmy sits back just enough to let you switch positions, before propping himself up on both hands that rest behind him. With the softest smile he thinks he’s ever seen, you climb back onto his lap. Grabbing the back of your head, he pulls you to him, kissing you like he wants to give you the world and then some. Your hands smooth over his strong shoulders and inked arms, then you’re reaching down between the two of you, guiding him back into you as you take him once more.

He swears his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels you again, beginning to move your hips in perfect harmony together. This new position is passionate, intense, intimate. Your hands are cradling the back of his head, kissing him like he is oxygen, as he surrenders to you, to the moment, to the dance between you.

“I like this,” Carmy finally says, as he notices the way the straps of your bra hang loosely off your shoulders.

“Me on top of you?” you smile, devilishly.

“This,” he repeats, his eyes hungrily taking in the image of you on top of him in this sexy lace little thing, as he toys with the red elastic. “But that too.”

You grin before pressing your lips against his once more, because he truly has no idea what else you have in store for him.

“Feel so good, sweet girl,” Carmy grunts out, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder, sloppier as the feeling returns. “You feel so good.”

You throw your head back in a moan, and he knows you’re letting him set the pace. He’s so goddamn close to cumming, as the two of you chase both of your highs this time.

“I love you, Carmy,” he hears you whine, your head leaning against his shoulder. “So much. I love you, baby.”

He can feel it – feel you – and he knows you’re close.

“I love you,” he manages to get out, in between a clenched jaw.

His hips stutter, and you’re tightening around him, losing all control, surrendering to your release as you cry out. Watching you come undone around him, feeling you contract and release around him, calling out his name till your voice is hoarse is what brings him there with you. Carmy continues to fuck up into you, filling you, as his hands begin to slow down the pace of your hips.

You’re magic to him – somehow just as and more electrifying as the day he met you, the day you told him you loved him, and today, the day you both said, “I do.”

“I think you’re right,” is what he says, in between pants, finally breaking the tension. “Married sex is a whole ‘nother level.”

“Cheers, Mrs. Berzatto,” Carmy toasts to you.

“And a cheers to you too, Mr. Berzatto,” you reply, clinking your champagne flute with his before drinking.

After coming back to reality – recovering from your joint discovery of just how damn good married sex is – you and Carmy spent a few more precious moments in each others’ arms, sharing languid kisses and whispered words. And after cleaning up, you both came to an agreement that if this weekend is anything like how it started, you will absolutely be in need of fuel – Carmy encouraging you to order a few things for room service off the hotel’s late night menu.

So here you are, drinking clinking glasses of fancy champagne over overpriced burgers and truffle fries, as you begin a new journey with your husband, thinking to yourself that there’s no other way you’d want this to be. Wrapped up in his Ralph Lauren Oxford shirt that you’d gleefully pulled out of his suitcase after your quick rinse off in the shower, Carmy’s got one of those looks of deep admiration in his eyes while he listens to you you wax philosophical about something or other.

It’s not that he’s not listening – it’s just that he cannot get over the fact that you made it here – something his twenty-five year old self probably never would’ve believed.

“Any chance you’re still hungry?” Carmy asks, a hopeful look in his eyes as he watches you polish off the last bite of your burger.

“Actually, yeah. Someone wore me out,” you answer cheekily, with a flirtatious shrug.

He smiles, “Good. Stay right here.”

As you watch Carmy jump off of the bed, beelining for the minifridge to retrieve whatever he put in it earlier, you note that it’s the second time that he’s left you tonight whatever the hell it is he’s keeping in that goddamn plastic tupperware. With an arched eyebrow, you ask:

“Watcha got over there?”

Carmy climbs back onto the bed, kneeling as he offers the square-shaped box to you, careful not to knock anything over on your shared room service tray. He begins to peel back the plastic lid, pulling it away from the storage container, earning a well-won sound of surprise from you as you realize exactly what it is.

“Tiramisu?” you gasp, completely moved by your husband’s gesture. “Carm, when the hell did you have time to make this?”

He gives you nothing but a boyish shrug, before gathering your two unused spoons that came with the silverware sets that room service brought up with your late night dinner.

“Had a little extra time at the restaurant this week,” is all he says, which you know is a lie.

You send a skeptical look his way, because rarely does he ever have extra time at the restaurant where he’s just hanging around. Sure, a tiramisu isn’t wildly difficult to make, but it’s been off of The Bear’s menu for years now.

And you should know. You’re the one who put it on there in the first place.

“Thought you didn’t bake,” you challenge him, as you pick up one of the spoons off of the room service tray.

“Yeah ‘s about the only thing I can do… considering it requires little to no baking at all,” he shoots back, picking up his spoon as well.

With no hesitation of being first, you dig your spoon into the soft cocoa powder covered cream and espresso soaked lady finger dessert, before raising your spoon to your lips for a first bite.

“Ohhhh, baby…” you practically moan, your eyes closed as you throw your head back in pure bliss.

Carmy snorts with laughter, but he’s satisfied with your reaction, knowing that he did a damn good job with it.

“Would you two like to be alone?” Carmy teases you, pointing his spoon to the tiramisu then back to you. “Thought this was our honeymoon.”

You lift your head, rolling your eyes playfully, before going back for seconds, “Don’t be jealous. You’re still the only one making me moan like that.”

And suddenly, the room feels about five degrees hotter, as Carmy feels heat rise to his cheeks. But he’s not quite ready to go there again, just yet, so instead he just explains:

“I know we both promised we wouldn’t do any of the food today, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to show you how much I love you in the only way I know how.”

“It’s not the only way,” you tease him with a smirk, as he shakes his head incredulously.

You can tell you’ve made him blush, which is only a little bit funny considering the dirty things that came out of his mouth barely an hour ago. But the silver lining is this, and it’s not lost on you: after all this time and all of these years, it’s good to know that on your wedding day, you still know how to flirt with your husband.

Carmy’s eyes are fixed to the tiramisu as he focuses on digging his own spoon into the tiramisu, inhaling the spoonful right away.

Damn. It is good, he thinks to himself, though he’s usually quite hesitant to give himself a compliment.

“So what were you and Sugar talking about?” Carmy asks, curiously changing the subject.

“Oof. You really wanna kill the mood with that answer?” you counter him, and he can hear the reality of the situation in the way your voice drops.

“That bad?” he pries, hesitantly.

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. While you’re not sure you want to ruin a perfect night by talking about Donna, you also feel like there’s no escaping it either. “Sugar and I’s talk was great but… she was upset… about your mom not coming.”

With a quick raise of his eyebrows, Carmy nods along, only slightly disappointed by the answer.

Leave it to Mom to ruin a perfectly good day without even showing up, he thinks to himself.

“Are… you… okay about it?” you drag out, cautiously.

“Yeah,” he answers with a curt nod. You’re not convinced, eyeing him carefully as Carmy chooses to charge through.

“Didn’t really expect her to come anyways. Would’ve been more drama than it was worth.”

“Bear,” you sigh in response to the impossible situation, because there’s no way that he’s not at least a little disappointed.

He shrugs, his eyes evasive of yours as he scoffs dismissively, shaking his head.

“Welcome to the fuckin’ family, I guess.”

You really don’t want to get into it now – not on your wedding night – so you shut your mouth even though you’re not exactly satisfied with his response. You know Carmy has every right to not want his mom there knowing that everything he’s said is true, but it still hurts your heart that he’s closed off his heart to her like this – that it has to be this way.

You let out a heavy exhale, before digging back into the tiramisu, pushing the thought out of your mind. And just when you think you’re done talking about it, Carmy presses you once more, his voice softer this time as he asks:

“What’d you uh… say? To Sugar?”

You take another breath, a sympathetic smile on your lips as you explain:

“I told her that I was sorry… that things are the way that they are, but I really just think she just needed someone to listen to her.”

“Yeah.”

A half beat.

“And I told her that… well, I told her that… we get to change things. You and I. Her and Pete. With the baby coming and everything too and… and us. Getting married, you know?”

Carmy hums in response, nodding his head as he processes what you said. Returning his gaze to you, it feels like he’s looking right through you, his blues so intense as he softly speaks again.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.”

You wait a beat, then another, noticing that your champagne glass is almost empty. You reach for the bottle, topping off Carmy’s flute first. You search your mind for something else to talk about, because you think he may actually be done talking about Donna this time, a small laugh escaping your lips as you think about today.

“Hmmm?”

Your eyes move to Carmy’s, then back to the almost-empty champagne flute that you’re refilling as you smirk with, “Bold move putting me on the spot like that with the vows.”

He laughs, a blush running across his cheeks as he shyly replies:

“You know, we got there, and I uh… well, I wanted to. Should I uh-, you know… think we shoulda talked about it before?”

“No, I actually kind of liked it,” you reassure him, raising the champagne flute to your lips once more. You take a sip, before continuing to flirt with your husband. “You’re gettin’ the hang of this whole… romantic gesture thing, Berzatto.”

“Anything for you, Berzatto,” he shoots back, emphasizing your new last name in a way that makes your heart flutter at the reminder.

You hum a satisfied hum in response, relaxing a little more into where you sit on the bed.

“Though if I had known ahead of time, I guess I could’ve prepared something. ‘S too bad,” you say playfully, causing Carmy to smile.

“We could do it now,” he offers, his voice going up at the end like it’s a question, and there’s something so boyish in his charm that it makes your heart melt.

“Hmmmm,” you begin, pondering where you’d like to start. He had promised to love you forever, and you him, but as you think about all the ways you want to love him, a smile spreads across your lips.

“Okay,” you accept, ready to play along. “I promise… that on the days you want breakfast burritos… that I will go to the place you like a few blocks down from ours.”

“Even though you think the place across from our place is better and closer?” he asks, unable to hide his shock as his eyebrows raise then lower.

You giggle, “Even though I think the place near ours is way better and is so much more convenient to get to, Bear.”

“Wow uh. Okay then,” Carmy says, taking this as an invitation. “Then I promise to always make sure to check that they put extra green salsa in the bag for you, no matter where we get the breakfast burritos.”

You grin, nodding your head alongside a, “You’re too good to me.”

This time, you take a moment to think it over, taking it more seriously now.

“I think… we should promise… to always have each others’ backs; to always be each others’ teammate.”

Carmy nods his head in agreement, “Yeah I uh… I think that’s great, babe.”

Two of you settle into a comfortable quiet, eating tiramisu and drinking champagne, while Carmy continues to steal glances your way when he thinks you aren’t looking.

He takes a beat. Then another, before propping his head up on his hand where he lays on his side across from you.

“What about this?” he proposes. “We promise to love each other, even when we disagree.”

“Even when you’re being a dick,” you tease him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. Even when I’m being a dick and you’re fuckin’ fed up with me,” he agrees with a head nod. “What else?”

“That we grow old together,” you say, without question, before painting him a picture of what you dream it could look like.

“And we promise to take care of each other when we’re cranky and smelly, and you’re telling the grandkids about your glory days as a hotshot chef….” You take a beat, giggling at the thought. “... while I roll my eyes because you’re yelling at someone to bring you your old chef’s knife so that you can show them that you still know how to perfectly Brunoise a carrot.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have to pry my chef’s knife out of my cold dead hands,” he warns you, humorously.

You laugh, “Honey, I knew that when I signed the marriage license.”

“I think we’ll be those grandparents, don’t you? The ones that pass on all of our recipes to the kids and the grandkids, and even when we’re not there anymore, we live on in everyone’s kitchen,” you conclude, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. “You know? You and me.”

“Yeah.”

You exchange a silly laugh, because neither of you know where to go after this, your and his hearts warmed by the thought of growing old together. You’ve been together for years now, but in so many ways, it still feels like you have so much life ahead of you; a life with Carmy that you’re only just getting started.

Carmy waits a beat, allowing your shared laugh to subside.

“I like the sound of this. Of us,” he declares, his voice soft yet sure.

“Me too, Carm. Me too,” you agree.

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