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neteyamsilly · 2 years ago

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable.

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock.

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact.

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade.

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now.

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand.

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada.

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada.

So dada started making you little trinkets.

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating.

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task.

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.”

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.”

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!”

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected.

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers.

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on.

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper.

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much.

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that.

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing.

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face.

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!”

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock.

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement.

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted.

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that.

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face.

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one.

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes.

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions.

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him.

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter.

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray.

A rustle from above.

“Attack him!”

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes.

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing?

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word.

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ.

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.”

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!”

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it.

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood.

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake.

She did.

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic.

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul.

But she was wrong.

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language.

Losing. It was all about losing.

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love.

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together.

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses.

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.)

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen.

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…”

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip.

You had gone slack in his arms.

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple.

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day.

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other.

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back.

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time.

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap.

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort.

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface.

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass.

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there.

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action.

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again.

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you.

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right.

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough.

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision.

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing?

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family.

You had died in his arms.

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind.

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless.

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?”

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood.

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out.

His daughter’s blood, on his hands.

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!”

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides.

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake. “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!”

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings.

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name.

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…”

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!”

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister.

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively.

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate.

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty.

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy.

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart.

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake.

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do.

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails.

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon.

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still.

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng.

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once.

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well. “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children.

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful.

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed.

It would never fly again.

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.”

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be.

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one.

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain.

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman.

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader

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taycherouzz · 3 days ago

Note

rodrick bf headcanons fem/gen reader pls? 💗🤗

this is a part of what I think Rodrick would be like, hope you liked and enjoyed it!

there is no doubt he ALWAYS invites you to his gigs and band rehearsals

As the band Löaded diper started playing, Rodrick's eyes kept drifting towards you. Every time he looked at you, he couldn't help but smile, his focus wavering. He tried to keep up with the beat, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Rodrick, dude, focus!" one of his bandmates called out, snapping him back to reality.

He chuckled and nodded, trying to concentrate, but it was no use. Your presence was too distracting, and every time he glanced your way, his heart skipped a beat. You couldn't help but blush, knowing you were the reason for his distraction.

During a break, Rodrick came over to you, shaking his head with a grin. "You're killing me here" he teased, his eyes filled with affection.

You laughed, playfully nudging him "I'm just here to support you". "Well, you're doing a great job" he said, leaning in for a quick kiss "Maybe a little too good".

when you both can't sleep (or just out of boredom), he would take you to have late-night drives

The city lights blurred past as you cruised through the streets, the windows rolled down and the cool night air filling the van. He played a mixtape he made just for these drives, the music perfectly capturing the mood.

As he drove, Rodrick took you to a secret spot he had discovered—a hill overlooking the city, where the lights twinkled like stars. He parked the van and you both got out, sitting on the hood and enjoying the breathtaking view.

"This is our little hideaway" he said, taking your hand "Just you and me" you completed his sentence while you smiled.

Rodrick wrapped his arm around you, and you leaned into him, the music still playing in the background while you both looked into the mesmerizing view ahead of you.

I feel like sometimes you both would prank greg

One afternoon, you both decided to play a classic prank on Greg: the old "fake spider in the bed" trick.

You and Rodrick carefully placed a realistic-looking spider under Greg's blanket, making sure it was positioned just right. Then, you both hid around the corner, waiting for Greg to come into his room.

When Greg finally walked in and pulled back his blanket, he let out a loud scream, jumping back in fright. You and Rodrick burst into laughter, high-fiving each other for the successful prank.

Greg quickly realized it was a fake spider and glared at both of you. "Very funny, guys" he muttered in a sarcastic tone while rolling his eyes.

he would 100% teach you how to play drums

"Okay, let's start with the basics" he said, handing you the drumsticks, he sat on the stool and he positioned you on his lap.

Rodrick's arms guided yours as he showed you the proper way to hold the sticks. "It's all about the rhythm. Just feel the beat" he explained, tapping a simple pattern on the snare drum.

You tried to follow his lead, your movements awkward at first. But with his patient guidance and encouragement, you started to get the hang of it. "That's it! You're doing great" he said, a proud smile on his face.

The garage was soon filled with the sound of your combined laughs, and the sense of accomplishment you felt was indescribable.

when you have a sleepover, you would definitely make marathons of horror films or comedies

One rainy Saturday, you decided to have an all-day movie marathon. Rodrick had a stack of DVDs ready, and you both created a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in the living room. As the first movie started, Rodrick pulled you close, his arm around your shoulders.

Halfway through the night, a particularly scary scene made you jump, and you buried your face in Rodrick's shoulder. He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her tighter "Don't worry, I've got you" he reassured.

Between movies, you'd debate which one was the scariest or funniest, sharing your favorite scenes and inside jokes.

By the end of the night, you were both sleepy but happy, the warmth of your time together lingering long after the credits rolled.

he has no problem on letting you use his löaded diper shirts, but I feel like he would make one shirt specially for you

Rodrick was incredibly proud of his band, Löded Diper, and he loved seeing you in their merch. One day, he surprised you with a special gift: a custom band T-shirt. The front had the band's logo, but it was the back that made you smile the most—it boldly read "Drummer's GF".

"You like it?" he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

You grinned and nodded "I love it! It’s perfect".

Every time you wore the shirt, Rodrick's face would light up with pride. He'd often brag to his bandmates about his amazing girlfriend who supported him wholeheartedly.

despite his though side, he has a soft spot for you, which causes him to be protective over you

One evening, you both decided to go to a local concert. The venue was packed, and the crowd was getting rowdy.

You felt a bit overwhelmed by the pushing and shoving, and Rodrick immediately noticed. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his side.

"Stay close to me" he whispered in your ear. He navigated through the crowd, making sure you were safe and comfortable.

Throughout the night, he kept a watchful eye on you, ensuring that no one got too close or made you uncomfortable.

he would definitely make you a mixtape with songs that reminded him of you, and you listen to it together in his van while he explains why that song (or which part) made him think of you

You were parked in Rodrick's van, the low hum of the engine barely audible over the mixtape he'd made for you. The song "Think About You" by Guns N' Roses started to play, and Rodrick turned to you with a soft smile.

"Listen to this" he said, his eyes meeting yours "these lyrics made me think of you".

As the song played, he explained "It's the way the song talks about always having you on my mind. Whenever I'm not with you, I miss you... God that was just so corny" he muffled with a chuckle while looking down.

But he lifted his gaze and saw you blushing, feeling your heart swell with emotion. Rodrick's hand found yours, and you sat in comfortable silence, letting the music speak for the both of you.

you would help him with homework and have study sessions together (but you always end up making out instead)

Books and notes were spread out on Rodrick's bed, ready for today's session, but it didn't took long for distractions to take over.

As you leaned in to explain a math problem, Rodrick's lips found yours in a quick kiss, and then another, and another one after that, until you find yourself making out with him instead of studying.

"C'mon, Rod, we have to study" you murmured between kisses, trying to stay focused.

"One more, and then we'll study" he promised, but his lips met yours again, and you couldn't help but kiss him back.

Your kisses grew more frequent, each one stealing your breath away. You kept trying to remind him of your homework, but his persistence made you lose track of time.

Each kiss pulled you deeper into the moment, and soon enough, the textbooks were forgotten as you got lost in each other.

#rodrick heffley #devon bostick #rodrick heffley fic #rodrick heffley x reader #doawk rodrick #rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick x reader #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid #taycherouzz

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highladyandromeda · 11 months ago

Text

Shadows of the Heart

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions.

WC: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of blood, but nothing particularly graphic

[Prologue], [Part 1]

Another four days passed, a week having finished as Y/n continued to sleep. Madja checked in multiple times a day, but she didn’t find any other problems.

“Apart from her loss of blood, her body’s naturally healing itself. And it even seems as though once Mor recovered, her magic was able to repair her wounds.”

Azriel observed how the deep cuts on her arm and leg closed to form thin raised scars, marveling at the process, and pushing back the discomfort of seeing her skin marred.

“So why isn’t she awakening?” Rhys broached, having left his place by her bedside, only to convert the room next door into a temporary office, checking in every hour according to his shadows.

“It’s most likely exhaustion.” Madja contemplated before continuing, “We’re still not sure of the magic she used to teleport herself and Morrigan here, but it was enough to take a toll on her body. Time is most likely what she required the most.”

Azriel nodded along, the images of the blood circle ingrained in his mind. The crimson runes were still left on the balcony, no one had the heart to ask the house or the stomach really, to wash them off. Rhys hadn’t said a word about it either, perhaps afraid that touching it could somehow affect Y/n’s recovery.

On the dawn of the fifteenth day, as the first rays of sunlight spilled into the room, bathing it in a warm, golden hue, something shifted. Azriel, who had taken to keeping watch that morning, noticed the change first. The steady rhythm of Y/n's breathing altered and became deeper, more purposeful. Her fingers twitched and as Azriel crept closer, he could see her eyelashes flutter.

Then, in a moment that seemed to suspend time itself, Y/n's eyes opened. The vividness of her gaze, a striking contrast to the pallor that had claimed her features for days, searched the room, disoriented yet aware.

As if sensing the shift in the air, Rhys appeared at the doorway, his presence commanding yet wreathed in silent anticipation. Feyre was close behind him, with Madja appearing along her side. Y/n’s gaze, clear yet clouded with confusion, swept across the room before settling on Rhys with a dawning recognition.

Rhys stepped forward, his voice a gentle anchor in the sea of confusion that likely swirled within her. "Y/n, you're safe. You're in the House of Wind, in Velaris."

"Rhys..." her voice was a whisper, fragile as the morning light, but it carried the weight of countless unspoken words. Azriel felt his shadows quiver at the sound of her voice, agitated that she said only that.

Madja approached with a gentle smile, her presence a reassuring beacon. "You've had us all holding our breath," she chided softly, a twinkle of relief in her eyes. "How do you feel?"

Struggling to sit up, Y/n's arms trembled with the effort, unable to support her weight. Quickly, Madja and Rhys were at her side, gently guiding her back against a fortress of pillows arranged for her comfort.

"I—how long—" she began, her voice barely a whisper. Gesturing towards her mouth, she mimed the action of drinking. Rhys, understanding immediately, handed her a glass of water, which she accepted with a nod of thanks.

"Fifteen days," came the response, surprising even Azriel, who hadn't expected his voice to fill the silence.

Y/n's gaze snapped to Azriel, her crimson eyes locking with his in confusion. Then, turning back to Rhys, she sought confirmation, her eyes laden with unspoken questions.

"Yes," Rhys affirmed, his tone carrying a blend of seriousness and warmth. "As Azriel, my spymaster, mentioned, you've been asleep for fifteen days, Y/n."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, prompting Rhys to add with a light-hearted chuckle, "You've never been one to enjoy your sleep, so, I must say, this time you've outdone yourself."

The room filled with soft laughter, which quickly turned into a series of coughs from Y/n.

With a firm command, Madja ushered everyone out, emphasizing the need for Y/n to rest and recuperate in solitude. Rhys, with a promise of returning bearing books and introductions, and Feyre, with an offer of her gentle company, reluctantly departed.

Azriel, ever the silent observer, melded back into the comforting embrace of the shadows. He lingered a moment longer, his gaze fixed on Y/n as she settled back, her magic, a soft luminescence against her skin, began to weave its way up her arms once more. And as he retreated into his room. It was the vivid scarlet of her eyes that imprinted itself on his mind, a beacon that refused to be extinguished even in the depth of shadows.

------------------------------------- x --------------------------------------

Y/n paused at the top of the grand staircase, her hand resting lightly on the polished banister. Each step below seemed to stretch further away, a challenge laid out before her. She drew in a deep breath, bracing herself against the lingering weakness that clung to her limbs like the remnants of a bad dream. Halfway down, her breath came in shallow drafts and she leaned against the banister for a moment, closing her eyes. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the state of her body, she couldn’t remember the last time such small movements pained her.

Finally reaching the bottom, Y/n paused, gathering herself. The familiar scents of breakfast—a medley of sweetness and warmth—wafted through the air, grounding her. She stepped forward, each movement measured, as she refused to collapse here. Her pride could only take so much more of a beating, after sleeping for 16 days now.

As her presence filled the doorway, a hush fell over the room, every eye turning towards her. It was Rhys and Mor who reacted first, their chairs scraping back against the polished floor as they sprang to their feet, propelled by a mix of concern and elation. Mor, having sat closer to the doorway on purpose, reached Y/n first, her arms enveloping Y/n in a hug that was nothing short of bone-crushing.

"Y/n!" Mor exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion, as she finally allowed her grip to loosen slightly, mindful of Y/n's recent ordeal. “What were you thinking?!” she yelled. Her eyes, bright with unshed tears, scanned Y/n's face as if to reassure herself that she was truly okay, that she was really there.

Rhys, following closely behind, wore an expression of deep relief mingled with a hint of his usual charm. He extended his hand, but then, deciding against it, pulled Y/n into a gentle embrace, mindful of her recovery.

"You've been missed, Y/n. More than you know," Rhys murmured, before stepping back to give her some space, before ushering her into a seat.

Y/n hesitated, her gaze sweeping across the familiar faces now turned towards her with varying expressions of curiosity and concern. "Actually," she began, a trace of her old confidence threading through her voice, "could I speak with you—just you and Mor...in private?" She added at their shared look of surprise, "It's urgent."

Before they could respond, Cassian tried to lighten the mood. "Sure, but not before you try some of this breakfast. We've all been waiting for you." His attempt to guide her towards the table was met with a small, knowing smile from Y/n.

"You must be Cassian," she remarked, “You’re just as I remember”, amusement lacing her tone, sparking a ripple of surprised laughter around the room. Deciding that she wouldn’t win this argument, Y/n gracefully conceded, taking the seat next to Azriel. As she settled into the chair, Azriel's shadow drifted towards her. They moved with an almost sentient awareness, coiling gently around her arms and weaving through her hair with the softness of a whispered secret.

Azriel caught between concern and embarrassment, hastily retracted them. "Sorry," he muttered, cheeks tinged with a rare blush.

Y/n shook her head, hiding her surprise with a gentle smile playing on her lips. "I don't mind. Really."

She turned straight to Rhys and tapped on his mental shields, watching his eyes unfocus as his talons gave way to the spirals of her crimson magic.

How much do they know? She asked.

Just the basics. Rhys responded. I wanted you to decide on the rest.

And you still trust them?

With my life. Y/n, why don’t you stay–

Before Rhys could finish, Y/n closed their link, looking around the room before revealing, “As you know, my name is Y/n. I was raised alongside Rhys and his sister in Moonstone Palace.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “I left after her…after her death.” A pained glance shared between her and Rhys, with Mor resting her hand on her shoulder.

"I’ve seen and heard of Cassian and Azriel during visits to the Illyrian mountains, but it was so long ago. I'm not surprised no one remembers."

Azriel felt his heart stutter, wanting to know more about this enchanting faerie. How could she remember him, but he didn’t recall her? Before he could muster the courage to turn to her, to ask her what she thought, no, what she remembered of him, Y/n didn’t let the revelation sink in.

With the weight of her next words pressing down upon her, she continued "I can't stay for long. I have to return to Vallahan."

She raised her hand in a stopping motion, insisting on continuing before Rhys grabbed her hand and pulled her up and into the house’s study. The slammed door echoed the shocked faces around the table.

Finally, when it seemed as though they would continue past lunchtime, Y/n and Rhys emerged, both looking surprisingly frazzled as Y/n huffed up the stairs. Rhys announced to the room, now with the addition of Amren and Elain, that they would have renewed introductions during dinner.

Azriel tried to focus on the joy of seeing Y/n again for dinner, trying to swallow down the bit of jealousy he felt at her acknowledgment of Rhy and Cassian, and her subsequent engagement with the others. It wasn’t a new sensation, this feeling of being overshadowed by the more charismatic presence of his brothers. Historically, he had resigned himself to the background, comfortable in his silence, a watcher amidst the revelry. Yet, with Y/n, it felt different; though he had just met her, he wanted to be seen, to be the one she sought out, the one whose company she desired.

A/N: Hi everyone!! Thank you so much for the support -- I wasn't expecting so much interest and joy when I first posted! I hope that I can write something that makes you all feel as entertained and encaptured as fanfic authors have made me feel!

I just created a tag list, I tagged everyone who asked and those who commented on the previous parts. If you'd like to be included, please just let me know. 💕

TAGLIST: @strangelygreat @enfppuff @trip-n-sal @inloveallthetime @annamariereads16 @mybestfriendmademe @mariahoedt @annblvd @ania-swissweet @yearninglustfully @sleepylunarwolf @quiettuba @gorlillaglue25 @lilah-asteria

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar series #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x oc #rhysand #morrigan #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar

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nackrosor · 2 years ago

Text

~Midnight Healing~

𝓢𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓖𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓡𝓲𝓵𝓮𝔂 𝔁 𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

[I highly recommend to put this song on repeat as background music. It will help set the mood.]

warnings/tags: 18+ smut, p*rn with feelings & plot, unexperienced reader, first kiss, first time, oral s*x (fem receiving), p in v, soft Ghost, slow dance, mutual pining, slight angst/comfort, Soap being the best mate, the team being supporting in their own way lmao, cap. price approved 👌🏻 summary: You're at the pub, enjoying a night out with your team. The soothing lulling music, the booze, Johnny's taunts and your own repressed feelings embolden you to invite Simon to join you in a slow dance. The dance leads to long overdue confessions which in turn lead to your first time together. word count: 12.5k. (longest one yet)

A special and huge thank you to my dear @magnoliabutters who has helped me SO MUCH. You've given me so many suggestions that inspired me to write the best possible version of this story. I probably would have given up halfway through if it wasn't for your support. I love you and appreciate you a lot. ♥️

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, elbows resting on the smooth surface of the counter with a thumb circling the cold rim of your half-full glass of bourbon. The soothing blues music playing in the background adds to your sense of calm, with notes vibrating through your limbs, echoing in your ribcage, and clearing your thoughts. You let yourself be lulled by the soft melancholy tune, quietly humming along and rocking your head in rhythm.

Given your job as a task force officer, you rarely get a breather and a chance to enjoy a night out. It is a luxury for you and that is what makes it so special, a time to truly look forward to. Especially when you can share it with your brothers in arms, your family, not bonded by blood but by a profound feeling born through shared hardships and nurtured by trust, respect and understanding. One would imagine you'd prefer to spend your free nights alone or with different people, perhaps even a one-night lover, rather than with your coworkers, the very same guys you spend your entire days with, through sweat and tears, anger and frustration, and occasionally a moment of respite. This is exactly the reason why you wouldn’t dare unwind with anyone else; they are everything for you, the sole people you trust and you would gladly give your life for without hesitation. Why would you need anybody else?

Seeing them loosen up for one night, just enough to treat themselves to a pint or a glass of whiskey is such the delight. You wouldn’t even need to chug a drink of your own to feel the tension leave your body, finally allowing yourself to relax.

This time is no exception. Same place, same company, same feeling of being exactly where you need to be, of needing literally nothing else in the world.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Soap's voice sounds clear in your ear and interrupts your blues-induced trance. A lazy smile greets you as you turn to look up at him. He settles down on the barstool next to you.

"Yeah… I love this music. It feels like a lullaby but instead of making me want to sleep, it makes me want to move, you know? "

"Sounds like you want to hit the dance floor! Care to give us a show?"

"Wouldn't you like that!"

You smirk at him, bumping your shoulder against his.

"Who wouldn’t?” he returns the nudge, playfully winking at you, “But I know someone who would particularly enjoy it, more than anybody else."

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. Every time you come to the pub, you can't avoid one or two, occasionally three, drunken brash males hitting on you or simply gluing their eyes on you from afar, never stopping for the entire time you're here. You'd think that being literally surrounded by four menacing - some more than others - muscular men would prevent anyone from ever looking your way twice, especially weak-minded misogynists who don't believe a woman could take care of herself�� That clearly isn't the case. Go figure! These people have no sense of shame or… self-preservation.

"What ugly old man’s ball sack-looking dude is staring at me this time?"

A chuckle escapes him. He shakes his head as he swirls the liquid in his glass before taking a sip.

“No ugly old man’s ball sack-looking dude , just a possibly ugly dude.”

"Oh?" a wry smile takes form on your lips, "well, I could get behind that."

"He's been throwing some not-so-sneaky glances your way ever since we arrived."

"Yeah?”, you ask, taking a quick glance around the room. “Coordinates, Sergeant. Don’t leave me in the dark."

Soap's eyes glint mischievously as he subtly nods to your left, then raises his glass to his lips to take another sip and mask his grin. You follow the trajectory of his nod, gaze skimming the whole length of the counter, overlooking the serene faces of Gaz, Laswell, the captain, until it locks on a familiar pair of big dark eyes. The smirk on your lips immediately falters and your stomach flips.

Simon is holding your gaze, seemingly unfazed, arms folded across his chest and muscles flexing under his black windbreaker. No matter how accustomed you are to seeing him in his casual attire, your heart always loses a beat whenever your eyes land on him. The way his skull balaclava hugs his face and the way the hood of his dark grey sweatshirt is all the way up, hiding his head, make his mesmerising eyes circled with black make-up even more striking and thus much more lethal to your poor weak heart. You’re so attracted to him, so infatuated… you’ve never felt this inexorable pull toward anyone before. It’s like a new form of gravity, so strong that you can’t even avert your gaze; it takes too much effort, like going against the laws of nature.

Soap’s giggle draws you back from the trance. Your eyes dart around aimlessly for a moment before you whip around to glare at your friend.

“You’re a bastard.”

He shrugs innocently, that stupid grin of his still tugging at his lips.

"You saw it for yourself, he was staring."

"Yeah, 'cause he probably heard you or read your lips or… something."

"Right,” he says with a scoff, elongating the word. “Didn’t know superman was part of the 141…"

His mocking tone makes you roll your eyes. Grabbing your glass, you bring it to your lips and savour the sensation of the cool, sweet but strong liquid flowing down your throat. As you knock the empty glass back onto the counter, you catch a glimpse of Ghost. Fortunately, this time he appears to be engaged in discussion with Price, providing you with the green light that allows your wistful gaze to linger on him, unnoticed.

"Well, you must admit that…”, you mutter almost to yourself, eyes reverently roaming his figure, “...if anyone had superpowers in our team, it would definitely be him."

"Heh. You certainly look at him as if he already has them."

Johnny interrupts your reveries again and you shake your head, tearing your eyes away from Simon and trying to clear your mind in the process. "Stop it. He's just, he's-"

"He's single, for all I know."

The sergeant shrugs again with an innocent smile as you give him the stink-eye.

"You’re a menace ."

You poke him hard in the ribs, causing him to wince and almost spill his drink. You both can’t help but laugh.

“I swear if you told him or anyone anything… I'll strangle you in your sleep.”

“Mmm, so passionate, y/n. He’s gonna love that.”

You roll your eyes again, yet can't help but smile.

Soap is your best mate; you're closer to him than the rest of the squad, which is saying a lot given how close the team is. You may or may not have let your feelings for Simon slip during a private conversation one night at the HQ while you were a little tipsy, and he's been a little shit about it since then, unwilling to let you live it down. You know it's all in good fun, there's no malice in his words, but his taunts do nothing to help you keep your feelings under control.

“You should tell him, by the way.”

“We’ve already talked about this, Johnny…”

“I just don’t understand why you’re keeping it to yourself. You scared of getting rejected?”

You shrug, your gaze fixed on the empty glass in front of you as you fidget with it absentmindedly. He struck a nerve. Taking the first step without being absolutely certain that your feelings are reciprocated and thus making a colossal blunder scares the shit out of you. Actually, the mere thought of taking a shot in the dark makes your stomach churn with dread.

“Y/n, he would never turn you down. Never .”

“You don’t know that.”

Soap scoffs incredulously. “C’mon! You’ve seen the way he looks at you! There’s nothing PG-13 about it.”

He pauses for a moment waiting for your retort but when you don't give him any, he draws conspiratorially close to your ear. “Although, I guess you don’t get to hear what he says about you when it’s just us boys…”

You perk up, turning toward him with a curious and clearly hopeful look on your face. Does he know something you don’t? Or is he messing with you? You can never tell with Soap.

“W-what does he say?”

Soap grins victoriously, undoubtedly pleased with himself for catching you failing, yet again, to hide your stupid little crush.

"Gave my word that I would keep my mouth shut..."

“Ugh!", you push him away with a hard smack on his arm, "you’re insufferable.”

“Go talk to him and find out on your own. In the unlikely case that what you fear the most happens, any of us smart boys would gladly take his place in your heart, love ."

You shake your head with a scoff, eyes drifting aimlessly to the other side of the room. Turns out, Johnny was trying to get under your skin, as per usual, however you can’t help but mull his words over.

Perhaps he's got a point, perhaps it is time to let it all out in the open and face the consequences , whatever they might be. Johnny said that Simon has talked about you with the guys. It might be nothing, but what if he really has let his own feelings slip during a conversation, just like when it happened to you with Soap? Or perhaps, he had a real heart to heart talk with his mates…

You have your doubts, but then again why would Johnny mention that he spoke of you? Why would he try so hard to reassure you that Simon would never reject you? Why would he stress out the fact that he often gets caught staring at you? Could your friend be doing this solely for a laugh? No, Johnny is not that kind of person. He cares about you and he clearly understands how much you care about Simon. He would not give you a friendly push merely to watch you fall face first to the ground. There must be some truth behind his jokes and teasing… but are you ready to risk it all to find out? Being rejected isn't the only fear that prevents you from acting on your feelings...

"Whatever.” You sigh at last, propping yourself up by pushing your palms against the edge of the counter. “I'm here to unwind, not get caught up in my head as usual. So… now, I’m going to dance. And, just to be clear, I'm not doing it for you or Simon or anybody other than myself."

The pointed look you give him makes Soap raise his hands in defeat, however it doesn't wipe that little smirk off his face. The glass grazes his curled up lips as he looks at you with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah… You'll thank me later.”

His words get lost in the rising bustle of the pub; the cacophony of voices and the clatter of glasses gets louder just as the music fills your ears the more you get away from the bar. The soothing tune comes out of two huge amps set at either side of an empty stage, and floods over you, the sole person standing in front of it. You feel a bit self-conscious at first, sensing everyone's eyes on you but you try your best to ignore them. Letting your eyes flutter shut, you focus solely on the music, allowing yourself to be transported by the slow lulling rhythm.

Soon, you're swaying your hips in time, your feet picking up their own pattern. You don't care about how you're moving, how it may look; all you care about is letting go, setting yourself free, feeling the music pass through you, and being completely in the moment. You dance worry-free, entirely surrendering control of your body to the enthralling and sinuous voice of the electric guitar. Few things are more freeing than dancing like nobody’s watching…

The song comes to an end almost too quickly and so does the enchantment that has seized you. When you open your eyes, chancing a look around you, you immediately meet Simon’s stare. He's still sitting at the bar but now he's turned toward you, back to the polished wood of the counter, one elbow resting on its edge. Clearly he has been watching you the whole time, enjoying the show , as Soap said. You feel a thrill run through you. Perhaps it's the alcohol kicking in, perhaps those feelings pushed deep inside you are finally emerging to the surface. Or is it just the adrenaline of the dancing still holding control over your body?

Regardless of the answer, you find yourself walking toward him; the initial notes of a new song matching your sultry and unhurried steps. He firmly holds your gaze, but you notice the shifting in his seat as you approach him with renewed confidence.

You stop when you’re right in front of him, a coy smile plays on your lips while you hold out your hand.

"Care to join me?"

His eyes flicker to your extended palm then wander over your face, as if he's looking for a cue that would tell him whether you're joking or being serious.

"You're outta your mind, princess ."

You raise your eyebrow at the word 'princess'. He knows you don’t like to be called like that but he doesn't seem to care. He keeps using that stupid term, especially when he wants to reprimand you, putting you in your place or just to tease you and get under your skin. But there is something in the way he said it just now, an endearing nuance in his tone that combined with his thick accent makes you melt like chocolate.

"Why? You seemed really interested only a minute ago."

You tease him with a challenging look on your face while you nonchalantly tug down the zip of your biker jacket. After the dance you're feeling a bit flushed, you need to let your skin breathe. No other reason for uncovering your cleavage, right? Definitely not to draw his attention to the deep neckline of your dress. Of course not, why would you do that?

"I was only-"

You interrupt him, arms folding across your chest, drawing his eyes even more to the curves of your body. " Enjoying the show , right."

"No.” He counters quickly, his voice loud and clear even over the music. Doesn’t he sound a little nervous? Or are you simply imagining it?

“I was just… glad to see this carefree side of you. It's a good look on you."

You stare into each other’s eyes, your heart thumping hard in your chest. You didn’t expect to hear him say that.

"Well…”, you bite your lip as you try to ease your racing heart, arms falling back to your sides, “...dancing is very freeing. You should try it."

"I don't think it would work for me."

"Why don't we find out?"

Shivering just a little, you take another step forward. His head slightly cranes up so that he can keep his piercing gaze on yours. You move your hand on his wrist, fingers wrapping gently around it before giving a little pull in your direction.

"C'mon…", you give him a teasing smile as you step back, head nodding back to the space behind you, “...let’s go.”

Despite your pulling, Simon doesn’t budge a single inch, but you see him hesitate. You keep tugging at his wrist, stepping backwards, even attempting to pout, until he silently relents and stands up, letting you drag him toward the stage at last. You didn't expect him to give up. You thought you'd have to put much more effort into it, or that you'd have to be the one giving up in the end. You're genuinely surprised by the turn of events but you won't let that dent your spirit now. You've just started playing with fire and you can't help but feel the thrill of it, the excitement lighting up inside of you.

You stop when you reach the spot you previously made your own during your solo dance and turn around to face him. He stands there, tall and motionless, the hood of his sweatshirt still on; he looks so out of place on the dance floor, the sight makes you chuckle.

"Don't worry Si, nobody would dare judge you."

"I don't care about that."

"No?"

With a smile on your face, a gaze fixed on him, you start to sway your hips in sync again. His eyes immediately flicker down to take in your movements. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that he looks like a freaking pole, standing so still in front of you, not moving even one muscle. His whole focus is on you and he seems to particularly enjoy being able to watch you from the best seat in the house.

“You could move your shoulders a little bit, you know? Or even just nod your head in time with the music.”

It’s so evident that he doesn’t know what to do with his body, where to even begin. You almost feel guilty of having dragged him there, of putting him on the spot.

“Here, follow my steps.”

You pick up a simple left-to-right footwork, following the slow but steady rhythm of the drums and encourage Ghost to mirror your motions with a nod and a gentle smile. He studies you, eyes observing your body attentively, picking up every little movement you make.

He appears quite stiff as he attempts to follow along; his bulky body doesn't seem keen to make him look as graceful on the dancefloor as it does on the battlefield. But he's trying at least, and quickly getting the hang of it.

“That’s it! You’re not half bad, Si!”

A soft chuckle escapes you as you bite your bottom lip. Seeing him dance - or try to - makes you oddly giddy, euphoric even. It's just such a rare and bizarre thing to see that you can't help but smile wide and enjoy the moment to the fullest.

Raising your arms in the air, you swing your hips and bend your knees as you lower your body to the ground, only to raise up again, twisting your curves like a snake. The thrill of his probing stare piercing you causes you to shudder; his eyes are unwavering, admiring your every move with utmost devotion. Having his undivided attention makes you feel alive, it makes you feel special and bold.

You take a step closer and reach out to grab both of his hands in yours, your movements mellowing to fit his laid-back rocking. His calloused hands are surprisingly soft and warm as they wrap perfectly around yours, like matching pieces of a puzzle; his touch feels comforting, stable, safe. As you look up at him, eyes locking once again, you feel your heart pound rapidly in your chest. A small smile takes form on your lips to mask the turmoil rising within you.

“This feels… nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

Your heart soars upon hearing his answer, smile widening.

“I didn't know you could dance."

"I can't dance”, you correct him with a light chuckle, “I simply enjoy moving my body to the music."

"Never seen you do that before."

"Well, most of you guys don't even like listening to music, so I only get to do it when I'm on my own… which is a rare occurrence since apparently you babies can’t leave me alone for more than one minute."

You squeeze his hands playfully, a cheeky grin playing on your face. You notice his eyes crinkle lightly in response.

"You can use my office, if you want. There's enough room to… move around."

You let out a hearty laugh, head shaking softly. Your eyes lower to the floor for a moment, monitoring the way both your feet move perfectly in sync and at the same time picturing the silly image in your mind.

"You gonna sit at your desk, grumbling over your paperwork while, with music blasting in my ears, I dance like nobody’s watching right in front of you?"

"Why not,” he says with a shrug.

His voice doesn’t betray his collected demeanour, but you know he’s smiling underneath that mask.

"Well, for one…”, you raise one eyebrow, giving him a knowing look, “I think it would get pretty distracting, rather quickly." You bring your joined hands to the level of your eyes and his chest, slowly interlacing your fingers with his. The muscles of his arms seem to tense for a moment.

"...Fair enough."

"Secondly…”, you trail off, eyes flickering up to meet his serious stare, voice losing a bit of its jovial nuance, “...people might start talking."

"Who cares."

His remark is curt and blunt, and it takes you a bit by surprise. He actually sounds as though he wouldn't care less if your coworkers were to start spreading rumours about you two possibly being... intimate. Or perhaps you're merely grasping at straws. After all, you're talking about dancing. Nothing more, right?

"You’re telling me that you wouldn’t care what the others may think or say?" your tone is clearly hesitant this time, vulnerable even, eyes frantically searching his, "...watching us dance like this? Being this close?"

He keeps silent for a long moment, gaze boring into yours. His hands then pull on your wrists, tugging you closer to him. He swiftly wraps his arms around your waist, while your hands fly onto his chest for support as a surprised gasp escapes your mouth.

“How could I give a crap about them or what they think… when I have you here in my arms?”

His straightforward statement catches you off-guard, causing you to stumble upon your feet. It feels like the tables have turned. Your flirtatiousness made him take the bait and now you’re the one who doesn’t know how to act. Your boldness instantly vanishes, it’s as if you never had it in you in the first place. A tardy nervous chuckle slips out of you as you struggle to regain your synced rocking.

“You must’ve had a drink too many, huh Si?”

“Never been more lucid in my life.”

You stare deeply into his eyes, a wild-eyed look on your face, as he firmly holds your gaze. Tension soaks the air around you, you can sense it getting thicker and thicker. Suddenly, there's not a single soul in the pub but you two. Your eyes locked, bodies swaying gently together, lightly brushing against one another. Your heart thumps forcefully against your chest.

[ 2:26 min .]

…

I just want to get your head back, baby

Give you all the love I got, for sure

So, baby, if you've got that feeling

You know I wanna give you that midnight healing

Oh, I just want to make love to you all night long

…

Perhaps it's merely your perception, but the music appears to get louder. The song’s lyrics are now distinctly clear; they echo in your head, tickling your mind like a subtle hint intended specifically for you.

Returning your attention to Simon, you detect a strange glint in his eyes. Did he receive the hint as well? The way his grasp on your waist tightens, palms roving over your sides and drawing you even closer to him, seems to confirm your supposition.

You both seem to lean forward, attracted like magnets, until your faces are merely inches away. The music deafens, slowly making its way into the background, providing the perfect mood for this special moment. Neither of you says a word, instead you let your eyes speak for themselves. Everything around you seems to blur into a negligible mist. Simon has you hypnotised, just as the music did, with the intensity of his gaze and the warmth of his touch. As one of his hands slides up to your neck, fingers grazing the soft hollow area just above your pulse point, a sharp shiver travels up your spine.

The room spins around you. All of a sudden, your heart pounds hard against your chest and in your ears. You sway on your feet with fingers tugging on his jacket to keep your balance. His hands move quickly to your back, to support your body as you shift your weight on him for a moment before catching yourself. You feel hot, dizzy, and out of breath.

"Y/n?"

"J-just give me a moment, will you?" You say rather harshly, unable to keep the rising panic and tension out of your voice.

His concerned gaze is the last thing you see before you abruptly pull away and dash back towards the counter, mind buzzing, chest tightening. You notice Soap’s smile drop into a puzzling look as he watches you rush over but before he can ask you anything, you hear Gaz's hesitant voice coming from behind you.

"What's going on?"

You throw a quick glance over your shoulder, instantly meeting his perplexed look. Your actions seem to have drawn the attention of Price and Laswell, too; you find both of their gazes set on you.

You struggle to take deep breaths, your eyes darting aimlessly from one friendly face to another while your hands clutch around the table edges, fingertips turning white. It takes all your efforts to not raise your gaze toward the dance floor and rest it on the man still standing exactly where you have just left him.

"Nothing! It's all going great!"

Your voice comes out higher pitched than normal but you try to mask it with the most convincing smile you can muster.

You turn toward Johnny before you can witness the other's reactions or give them time to question your words. Your friend pierces you with a questioning look that doesn't leave room for lies.

"I-I think I'm gonna pass out."

He immediately reaches out to place a comforting hand on your arm as he slides his freshly refilled glass towards you.

"You ok? What happened?"

Your hand shakes as you grab the drink. You rub it to your forehead, cheeks, and neck before moving it to your lips. The cool sensation of the glass against your feverish skin seems to ease your panic, even if only a little. You focus completely on the cold liquid scorching down your throat as you take a long sip.

You gasp, pulling from the rim of the glass. "Nothing. It's just-" you take another deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut,"...it felt all-too real, all-too quickly, I guess. I'm not entirely sure. I panicked."

"Y/n," he coos softly, gently squeezing your arm, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to-"

"But that's the point! I want it! We were so close, I mean… you saw it! If it wasn't for the mask, I’m pretty sure he would’ve leaned in for a kiss. I-I felt my heart was about to burst!” The words fall out of your mouth in a nervous rambling. “I wanted to close the distance so bad… that I fucking ran away." A deprecating chuckle escapes you, eyes rolling in disbelief. "I'm so fucking stupid!"

Johnny squeezes your shoulder again, offering you a genuine smile.

"You are not stupid, y/n... Well, maybe just a little bit." He grins in response to your not-so-convincing glare. "Could a little more privacy help you feel better? You know there are rooms upstairs, you could always go there if you want to..."

You watch as his hand disappears inside his jacket and reappears a moment later, holding a small silver key between his fingers. He holds it out to you and you take it from him mindlessly.

Soap laughs as he detects the mute query in your stunned expression.

"I took it earlier thinking I might get lucky and use it for myself, but it looks like I’m not the lucky one tonight…"

Your gaze darts from your friend's face to the key, then back to him. Your heart starts racing again as the true meaning that small metallic object holds hits you like an unforeseen gunshot to the chest. You let out a loud groan, your hands flying to your face to hide your grimace.

"What is it now?"

"Johnny...", his name falls out of your lips in a sing-songy cry, barely audible above the music and chatter. Lips quivering both in embarrassment and fear for the confession you’re about to make. With a whisper, you share, "I've never been with anyone before... I've never even kissed anyone." You chance a look at your friend through your fingers. "What if I make a fool out of myself in front of Simon? Hell, who am I kidding? I-I already have!"

The astonished expression on Soap's face only aggravates your growing anxiety.

"Creeping Jesus! Y/n… I thought you… uhm, it’s okay-," he awkwardly shifts in his seat, his mouth opening and shutting without emitting a single sound, at least not one that you can hear. His gaze abruptly darts to the side, focusing on something far over your shoulder before moving back to rest on you with a barely concealed alarm. "Ok, take a deep breath, he's coming over."

You only have time to curse under your breath and pull your hands away from your face before you feel a presence behind you that makes every hair on your body stand on end.

When you hear your name being called, you turn warily to face the man standing by your side, stomach twisting as you meet his inquisitive stare. You believe you can also see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, too.

"Simon, I'm… I'm-"

"She needed some fuel, L.T.!" Soap rushes to your aid, grinning up at Ghost and smacking him on the arm - a little too hard. "She's all good now… right, y/n?"

He gives you a quizzical look, as if he's asking whether you're ready to handle the situation on your own or if you need more time; at least, that's what you believe he’s trying to convey.

You respond with a feeble nod before your gaze shifts to Simon. You offer him your glass. "A sip?"

He stares at you intently, seemingly studying your face, his expression now unreadable.

"No."

"A-alright, more for me..." you fake a smile and then guzzle the drink all in one go. You slam the empty glass on the counter as you suck air through your teeth, grimacing at the piercing sensation of the scorching liquor spreading inside your system. Your gaze is drawn to Soap's, and you give him a somewhat confident smile, which he returns with a little wink.

Your hand then moves on its own accord, finding Ghost's large palm and interlacing your fingers with his; the contact sends a chill up your spine. When you look up at him, a ghost of a smile appears on your lips. You're not sure what you're doing or what's going to happen, but you try not to second-guess yourself too much and risk screwing up for the second time in a row.

Taking a step back, away from the counter, you beckon him to follow you.

"Come with me…"

He does not resist your pull. He does not hesitate for even one second. He trails behind you as you lead him up the stairs and to the second floor.

Neither of you dare utter a single word as you walk through the corridor and come to a door that matches the number on the key Soap gave you. You don't dare glance at him as you walk in, taking in the dim tavern-like atmosphere of the tiny bedroom. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the king size bed in the centre, which takes up most of the space. Your mouth goes dry. You wonder what Simon might be thinking, if the same thoughts that course through your mind are pestering him as well.

The sound of the door being closed startles you and makes you whirl around. Your gaze immediately captures his, and you gulp under his piercing stare.

With slow heavy steps that mismatch your thundering heartbeat, he walks over to you, stopping only when he’s towering right over you, standing tall in all his imposing height. You keep your gaze levelled in front of you, unable to meet his eyes, however his fingers curl under your chin and nudge your head up, forcing you to face him.

" Princess… " he murmurs in a low breathy tone, his voice tinged with something akin to irritation, “why are you playing little games with me?”

Your stomach flips again. Of course he’d assume you’ve been messing with him, leading him on; it’s only fair considering the odd behaviour you’ve had all night. And probably not just tonight.

“I’m not, trust me…”

He pauses for a brief moment, his keen eyes studying your face, possibly looking for proof of your sincerity.

"You brought me here. Why ?"

"I-I don't know…"

"You don't know?"

You mentally reprimand yourself for your dumb answer and shake your head in an attempt to dissipate the haze that has settled over your mind.

"I mean, I know why, but-" you try to swallow but your throat is dry. The intensity of his dark eyes boring into yours causes you to stutter, "f-fuck Si, you make me so nervous I can't even think straight!"

Your voice comes out louder than intended and soaked with frustration. Your hand moves on his wrist, tugging at it to pry yourself free from his grasp, but his hold on you does not relent.

"You were dancing for all the pub to see until a minute ago, and I make you nervous?"

"Yes! Of course! I don't give a damn about those strangers! Why should I? Besides that's not the point! You make me nervous because you are... you are-"

You shake your head again as you let out a shuddering breath, your gaze averted from his. You know you can't really back down now. You have to tell him the truth but it's damn hard to find the right words to express exactly how you feel. And more than that, to finally find the courage to say them.

You feel like your heart is on the verge of bursting out of your chest.

"You’re someone I really care about, Simon."

His fingers squeeze your chin, urging you to look up, and when you do you notice that his eyes have softened.

“That made you panic?”

You give him a lopsided smile, but a short-lived one, for your anxieties come tumbling back, slithering into your mind and compelling you to address them, once and for all.

"T-There's something else..."

You want to tell him that you've never been with a man before, that you've never even had your first kiss yet, and that the thought of him, the only man you’ve ever loved, desired , possibly being your first, makes you incredibly nervous and self-conscious. You really want to tell him everything and free yourself of this burden but your voice gets stuck in your throat and you gape up at him, feeling your stomach churn.

Simon waits patiently for you to speak up, his fingers still holding your chin. The soft look he offers you seems to ease your tension a little.

"I have…”, you draw a sharp breath, "...no experience in this field , if you catch my drift...”. You mutter those few words in a small voice as your face twists into a grimace.

Your confession hangs in the air for what feels like eternity, your heart seems to have stopped beating altogether.

"I know."

“Wha-?!”

You are completely thrown off by his matter-of-fact tone.

"H-how? Why-" you stutter, mouth gaping, your eyes wide. How could he know? You've never told anybody, not until a few minutes ago. But he couldn't have heard you, could he? That would be impossible.

"Is it really so fucking obvious?"

"No.”

In stark contrast to yours, his voice sounds cool and collected. His fingers graze your skin as they move up from your chin to your cheek. "I figured you had no idea how this worked when suddenly you’re lacking your usual confidence and turning into a bloody school-girl. It threw me off at first. I thought you didn’t want this…”

" Hell…”, your head slowly shakes in disbelief, eyes darting to the side.

Suddenly you don’t know if you should feel relieved, ashamed or sorry for it all. Your own body chooses for you, opting for an odd mix of the three; shoulders slumping, mind buzzing, you stare into space while his words sink in.

So he's been into you the whole time but your mixed signals, caused by your stupid anxieties, have made it look like you were not into him? Or that you were just playing with him? Seriously? What kind of shitty B-rated rom com is this?

" So , you've never been held by a man.” Simon’s calm voice draws you back to the moment, his fingers taking hold of your chin once again. “ Blimey . Is that what makes you so nervous?"

"Is it really not a problem for you?" you ask out of genuine curiosity, brows furrowing as your eyes meet his.

Simon’s scoff almost turns into a hearty laugh as he holds your gaze, eyes crinkling.

"No man has ever put their filthy hands on you and I should be - what? Sad? Disappointed? For God's sake, princess..."

He shakes his head, fingertips taking better hold of your jaw as he leans down.

“You and your worries…” His tone is almost scolding but playfully so, eyes studying every feature of your face. “Stop thinking so much, you numpty . It’s not good for you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know…”, you let out a long shuddering breath, in an attempt to let go of the lingering worry still tightening your throat, "I just… don't want to fuck this up, Si. You mean too much to me..."

He hums softly.

Silence engulfs you. A silence tinged with renewed tension. Not the type of tension that fuels your anxieties but the kind that makes you warm inside. Soft distant notes coming from downstairs fill the room, washing over you in a soothing yet electric wave, reminding you of the dance you shared, of how close you were and the desire that was rising, burning hot, inside of you.

Just like a magnet the attraction between you and Simon grows.

His free hand moves on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him and just like before, out of instinct, your hands land on his chest. He holds your chin high, his gaze piercing straight to your heart.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

You bite your lip, surprised by his forwardness, a nervous giggle shaking through you. "What kind of question is that-"

"Do you want me to kiss you, princess?"

He asks a second time with a more serious tone that makes your nervous giddiness fade. Looking deep into his eyes, you take a long breath to ease your racing heart, or at least attempt to.

"Y-yeah, I want you to kiss me."

His hand moves over yours resting on his chest, and guides it up to his neck.

"Pull up my mask, uncover my mouth. Only my mouth."

You stop breathing altogether, heart jumping in your throat.

"Y-You want me to do it?"

"Aye."

Touching his mask, pulling it up to uncover his face feels like such an intimate gesture… Your eyes roam reverently over his newly uncovered skin as your fingers gently peel up the fabric of his balaclava, until his mouth is completely exposed to your sight and you can let your adoring gaze truly linger for the first time. You’ve caught glimpses of his face before, his chin looking vaguely familiar for the few times you’ve seen Simon drink or eat in front of you and the team. But that’s all it has ever been: glimpses. You’ve never been allowed to study his clean-shaved chin and alluring mouth like you are now, from so up close.

"You have pretty lips…"

Your comment slips out of your mouth before your mind could register it and you grimace out of embarrassment. "Uh, sorry, that was-"

Words die on your tongue as soon as you feel his hand firmly squeeze your jaw. Your eyes immediately dart to his, which bore into yours. Slowly - breathtakingly slow, he draws closer until his lips hover inches away from yours and you can feel his hot breath on your skin. You swallow dry. In a heartbeat he closes the distance, kissing you gently, softly but with a clear, barely-withheld passion.

You respond to the kiss after a moment of stun. The contact of his lips on yours feels like a soft dream at first, one that seizes your mind in a haze and makes you walk on cloud nine, and then grows in force, as if Simon can't contain his desire any longer.

Your lips part and his tongue slips into your hot mouth, eager to explore this new territory. You moan in the kiss and meet him in a twisting dance of control.

Every move comes surprisingly natural to you, as if you’ve done this a million times before.

His hand travels down from your back to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a possessive squeeze, then slips even lower to lift your short black dress at its edges and tug it upward just enough to expose the back of your thighs. He doesn't waste time when moving his hand onto that newly uncovered area, kneading the tight flesh there as he bends forward, causing you to arch your back and latch your hands around his neck. Bodies tucking closer.

You take a deep breath as you slightly pull away, lips still grazing his, your hot breaths merging together.

All the words you thought would play out in your head in such an important moment are now nowhere to be found. Instead, it’s all just a feeling of rightness between you and him. None of your fantasies could have ever prepared you for a feeling so… intoxicated.

"Simon…", you usher in a barely audible whisper, slipping your hand under his jacket and feeling his muscles tense under your wandering touch. His lust clouded eyes search yours, his chest heaving hard, hands pressing against you and relenting a second later, as if he’s trying to restrain himself.

"...I want you to be my first."

A guttural sound comes out of his mouth at your words, his fingers spread again on your ass cheek, squeezing it hard and causing you to whimper. His gaze seems to get darker and he draws closer once more, teeth grazing your bottom lip, nibbling at it.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

And just like that, as if a barrier has been finally lifted, his lips crush onto yours once more but harder, hungrier than the first time. In one swift motion he yanks the biker jacket off your shoulders and tosses it on the floor. You instantly match his eagerness, returning the favour; his own windbreaker dropping at your feet.

Before your mind can register what’s happening, you find yourself back against the wall, your shoulder blades hitting the hard surface in an audible thud. You feel your guts twist as heat starts to pool in your belly.

Your lips are still connected, unwilling to separate. His hands dive on your hips, the thin fabric of your flared dress creases under his ravenous groping. One hand slides down, curling up the hem and slipping underneath, meeting the side of your bare upper thigh. His palm closes around it, firmly, possessively as he lifts your leg up to his hip; you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to find a red mark on your skin later, nor would you be displeased. You moan in his mouth in response and let your own hands wander on his body, blindly scanning the muscles of his torso from above his sweatshirt, only to slide lower and lower, until you find its edges and curl them up. Your fingers sneak under the fabric, meeting the smooth skin of his abdomen; his muscles tense up at the teasing contact. Your palms climb up his abs, his pecks, committing the tactile sensation of every inch of his taut torso to memory.

As you both pull away, gasping for air, you let your eyes fall to where your hands disappear under his clothes; you want to look at him, feast your hungry eyes on his naked body but before you can do it yourself, Simon grabs the hem of his sweatshirt and pulls it off his head, adding it to the rest of your discarded clothes. However, he doesn’t give you time to take his bare chest in, for he grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you up like you weigh nothing at all, walks you over to the bed and drops you on the mattress.

Only at this moment are you allowed to let your eyes wander over the muscles of his torso, probably the only part of his body you've already had the pleasure of seeing in the past, although mostly in not so pleasant times, when he needed to be patched up. This time it's totally different. Your hungry gaze devours every inch of him, glinting in twisted pleasure when it meets the scars that you remember having tended to yourself.

You're too eager to touch him again to keep laying there waiting. Quickly throwing your boots off the side of the bed, you crawl on your knees toward him, hands latching on the inseam of his trousers to unzip them. In the meantime he yanks his own boots off his feet and out of the way, with eyes glued to yours.

When you're done with his zip, before you can tug his jeans down, he pushes you back on the mattress and joins you on the bed, settling himself on top of your body, knees resting at either side of your legs.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time.”

The way his raspy voice breaks a little as he ushers his confession makes your stomach twist.

“Do w-what, exactly?”

His hands move on your collarbone, peeling the thin straps of your dress and your bra off your shoulders. You allow him to tug them down your chest as you look up at him with nothing but unyielding passion. His eyes wander over your freshly uncovered breasts and you can see his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw setting hard.

He takes a moment to answer, staring down at you, perhaps struggling to give voice to something that has been swirling against the recesses of his mind for quite some time.

“Push you on a bed, pin your body under mine and… taste you.”

A sharp shiver runs up your spine at his words, heart skipping a beat.

One of his palms closes around your breast, firmly squeezing the soft flesh, while the other lifts the skirt of your dress up to your stomach. Without missing a beat he bends down beneath your thighs and presses his mouth against your panties, just above your lower belly.

“Oh!”

Your hips buck up on their own at the sudden stomach-churning contact. His free hand moves to rest on your upper thigh, pressing your body back against the mattress.

"This is uncharted territory, innit?"

"I-It is, Lieutenant…", you match his playful tone even though your voice is but a mere whisper, struggling to get out in between your ragged breaths, "...nobody has yet claimed that path..."

You hear him hum in appreciation and you feel his voice too, vibrating against your core.

"Don't mind if I do."

You take a sharp breath as you feel his lips press against you again, only lower this time, teasing your most sensitive part. The thin fabric of your underwear does nothing to muffle the intense touch and yet the obstacle irritates you, you want it out of the way and Simon seems to share your feelings. Both his hands move on your hips, grabbing the hem of your panties and sliding them down and off your legs. A thrill curses through your whole body at the sight of your undies being tucked inside the back pocket of his jeans. Simon’s eyes crinkle lightly as they watch your reaction, lips curving into a smirk.

You don’t really care about them now, whether he’s planning on returning them or making you walk out of here butt naked. All your attention is drawn to the cool breath blowing against your delicate skin, turning hot only a second later as Simon leans closer, until you feel his lips meet your heat and cause you to whimper. The cloth of his mask grazing against your folds only adds to the stimulating touch.

His hot tongue swipes up your core once, twice, with hands spreading you wider for him to reach every inch of you. Another slow stripe from your entrance up to your clitoris and your body shakes in ecstasy. He latches his lips to you and starts to suck hard, swirling his tongue around your nub and dragging it up and down along your wetness.

He said it. He wanted to taste you. And that is exactly what he’s doing, with no hesitation whatsoever, nor waste of time. You’re already a quivering mess beneath him, pathetic whines falling from your parted lips, hands closing in fists as fingers dig into the sheets.

“F-Fuck, Simon…”

You feel his soft chuckle against you; it drives you mad.

He shifts from his position, lips pulling away as he grabs the back of your thighs to tug you closer and pin your spread legs to your stomach. You chance a look at him through your heavy lidded eyes. His lips and chin are wet with your juices, the sight ignites a fire inside you that you’ve never felt before. The way you’re spread for him, your privateness so thoroughly exposed for the first time in your life… you thought that you’d be embarrassed, that you’d be awfully shy to show yourself like this, especially to him. You do sense a faint tightness in your stomach and a warmth spreading in your face, yet there’s another feeling prevailing over the rest. A feeling that surges from Simon himself; the way he leans back down, hands travelling up your body to grab your breasts, the way he’s devouring you like a starved man, the way he’s taking care of you, making sure to pleasure you, to make you feel good… It allows no room for awkwardness or discomfort, only a warm pervasive and soothing feeling of pure care and devotion to wash over you and envelope you whole.

The lewd sound of his mouth working against you has long prevailed over the music and it only seems to grow in tone the more the tightening of the heat in your belly grows in intensity. You feel it coming, the high is close. Your hands fly toward him, landing on his head. You grab his mask, tug at it, feeling it slip from its place, then you freeze abruptly, as soon as you realise what you’re doing. You look down again, instantly meeting Simon’s hard stare. A strange glint passes over his eyes; he seems to ponder something for a moment then come to a final decision. In a few dismissive moves, he pulls away from you, grabs the dark fabric curled under his nose and yanks it off his head, throwing it carelessly on the floor.

Your heart is sent into a frenzy. It no longer knows what to do; whether it should keep thundering in your heart for the intense and building pleasure or stopping altogether for the shock of what you have just witnessed. Your wide eyes wander toward him, curious and hesitant at the same time but they only catch a glimpse of his bare face before he disappears between your legs once again, latching his mouth on you even more greedily than before, possibly feeling more free in his movements without the mask impediment. You want to watch him, stare at him as he drives you to heaven but your head falls back on the mattress, eyes squeezing shut and back arching sharply as a wave of skin-crawling chills sets your entire body aflame. It is nothing like the orgasms you’ve had before, when you touch yourself. This is a new feeling; it’s intense, it goes to your head, it makes you dizzy and wordless. It makes you feel loved.

Simon keeps moving against you, tongue curling at your entrance, gathering up the fruits of his hard work. His hands still pinning your thighs close to your stomach, fingers digging in your soft flesh as he eases your shakes.

Your mind is still struggling to come out of the haze when your hand blindly travels down in search of him. Fingers tug at his short locks of hair, urging him to come up to meet you. He lingers a moment longer to press a soft kiss on your swollen bundle of nerves, then on your lower belly and between your breasts as he makes his ascent. Finally he faces you, eyes meeting again.

If your body wasn't already heavily overwhelmed, the sight of his beautiful sharp features would send all your senses into overdrive.

He looks at you so openly, dark eyes twinkling with adoration and what you can only read as vulnerability, that you find yourself unsure of how to act.

Would this special moment turn awkward if you were to make a comment on his looks? You wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Removing his mask must take such an effort… you don’t want to risk making this more stressful for him. You opt for keeping your comments to yourself, at least for now.

Instead, you let your hand rest on his face, caressing his skin, softly, slowly, as if it’s the most fragile thing in the world and you have to handle it with utmost care. You hope that by doing this you can show him and reassure him that everything is ok, nothing has changed, surely not for the worse. That you deeply appreciate the fact that he decided to let his guards down, to be vulnerable with you. That’s what you try to convey with your adoring gaze and your tender touch, and you sincerely hope it reaches him.

When you feel him lean into your touch, a content smile spreads on your face and you instinctively tilt your head up, capturing his damp lips in a passionate kiss that instantly rekindles the desire inside of you. Simon matches your eagerness, hands travelling down your body to caress, grab, squeeze, grope and tease anything he finds on his path. You do the same, mapping his muscular torso, skimming your fingers down to his navel.

For a moment, only a moment, you hesitate to go lower as you get caught up in your head, worries threatening to hold you back again, but the way he interrupts the contact of your lips to place a trail of sloppy kisses down the sensitive skin of your neck makes your worries fade again and you slip your hand inside his unzipped jeans. You relish in hearing the guttural sound that rewards your action; it compels you to rub your hand over his boxers with more confidence, feeling his bulge with a light squeeze.

Simon hastily brings his hand to his waistband and tugs it down, his boxers receive the same treatment. Your hand now closes around his erection, giving it a few tentative strokes. He draws a sharp breath.

“ Bloody hell , princess…”

He mutters in the crook of your neck and you shiver. His reaction encourages you to increase the vigour of your movements.

“Is this ok?”

He hums softly, hips starting to buck in sync with your hand. He lets you fondle him, drag your fingers on the tip wet with precum, make him moan in pleasure as your hold around his girth tightens… then he pulls away, grabs your hand and brings it to his lips for a soft peck on its back.

You follow his movements, eyes drawn to his lips then flickering down to his cock. By the touch you assumed it was pretty big and the sight only confirms your thoughts but it shocks you anyway.

You hear him huff a laugh through his nose.

“Do you think you can take me, mh?”

Your eyes dart back to his face, meeting his amused look.

“I don’t know…”, you bite your lips, the angles of your mouth curling up in a playful smirk, “but I sure as hell ain’t gonna back down from a challenge.”

Your heart soars with joy seeing his face crack into a pleasantly surprised expression, a chuckle coming out of his mouth.

“Good girl.”

He pins you with his mesmerising gaze, bending down on you again. He leans on the side, toward the bedside table. You crane your neck to watch. His hand slips into a black smoking-bowl and comes back with a small metallic sachet. Protection. Of course. This place is well-equipped. Your curious eyes keep following his movements as he takes the condom and secures it onto his throbbing erection. You swallow as his gaze moves back on your face, your stomach starts churning again. He seems to sense your nervousness and leans down, hand grabbing your jaw, eyes piercing right into yours.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll be gentle.”

You nod with a smile, then take a deep breath.

“It’s okay. I trust you, Si.”

He leans in for a quick soft kiss, hand guiding his erection between your legs, tip rubbing against your slit to coat it in your wetness. Your whole body tingles in anticipation.

“Stop me anytime if you need to.”

He waits for your confirmation before he slides in, bit by bit, easing you to the intrusion. An instant groan comes out of his mouth.

“Oh, you’re so fucking tight!”

Your brows furrow, your jaw sets, soft cries come out of you as he settles inside your walls but you don’t stop him. He kisses your neck, right on the spot he learned that makes you quiver the most, your hands clutched at his sides. It doesn’t take long for the nagging feeling to fade and for you to get accustomed to the sensation as your core stretches to welcome him fully.

Simon feels your body relax and starts to push into you, slowly, carefully, letting out pleased grunts of his own. His hands wrap around the back of your thighs and lift them up to his waist. You latch your legs around his body, a maneuver that allows him to bury his cock deeper inside you and that causes a loud moan to erupt from you.

“G-God… That’s…”

His lips trail back from your neck to your jaw, teasingly brushing your skin, until they hover on your open mouth; his eyes take in your contorting features with a pleased smile.

He rocks at a steady pace against you while his hands roam your body, travel up your hips, caress your breasts, skim along the shape of your arms, stopping only to let his fingers interlace with yours, and pin your hands down to the mattress, at either side of your head.

You feel your lucidity slip from you completely. No coherent words come out of you, only a nonsensical mumbling. The way he’s thrusting inside of you, so deep and precise, hitting that perfect spot at each push, it takes every fiber in your being not to scream out loud and make the whole pub know how Simon’s fucking you sensless.

You can only focus on how you’re connected to him, how he is filling you up so beautifully, how your bodies move wonderfully together; it’s almost like a dance, a primal animalistic dance that belongs to you two only. You even have the music to accompany your dance moves, a soft sensual melody that perfectly complements your passion-imbued union of trembling bodies.

So this is how it feels to have sex? This is how it feels to be wholly consumed by lust and desire? Or could this overwhelming sensation simply be Simon’s doing? To have him make love to you?

“Y/n…”

It takes a lot of effort for you to hum back in response.

Simon’s lips crush clumsily against yours as his movements become frantic and sloppier. He must be close to reaching the high. And so are you. Your eyelids are heavy, your sight slightly blurred and unfocused.

“Si, I think I’m about to-”

He pulls away from your lips, spine straightening, piercing eyes landing on your face as one of his hands slips from yours and travels along your body, down toward your core. He deliberately rubs your slit with his palm before he picks up a hectic waving motion to stroke your swollen nub, immediately triggering a shock wave of shivers to spiral up your back. Your head spins at the additional stimuli. Your eyes squeeze shut, cries fall out of your mouth as you contort in pleasure.

You feel his other hand grab your jaw and shake it lightly, demanding your attention.

“Eyes on me, beautiful.”

You look up at him with glazed eyes, dizzy and yearning for your release. With every stroke and every thrust you lose yourself more and more into the bliss.

His hand settles on your neck, closing around your throat, not hard enough to delay your breathing but providing you with such a thrilling and wicked pressure that makes you salivate and that instantly sends heat flaring in your belly, causing your need to build faster and even more intense.

Panting hard, your hands now free, you grip onto Simon’s strong arms while you progressively lose focus on every way he’s indulging your desire, instead centring your heightened senses on the feelings he’s awakening. The last thread of restraint then finally snaps and you reach the peak, core lightening with an answering flame that you’ve never felt before. You lose yourself in the waves of pleasure overtaking you, barely taking notice of Simon’s rutting inside you once, twice, three more times before his body goes still against you and a deep groan erupts from him. Both of you anchor the other’s body, pressing together, relishing in the other’s shudders and panting breaths. You’re so flush against him that you can feel his heart, challenging your own in a speed race and then gradually slowing down.

Chest heaving, you cradle the back of his head, letting your fingers thread between the roots of his hair, while he blows his hot breath on the crook of your neck as you both ease down from your highs. The warmth of his body is comforting against yours, you never want him to let go. The rousing feeling of his cock still buried inside you, resting between your fluttering walls is one you could easily get used to. It almost takes your breath away when Simon slides out of you, leaving you bare.

His damp lips press against your boiling skin, trailing up your jaw. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, committing this idyllic moment to memory.

His thumb gently strokes your chin, fingers resting upon your cheek. When you open your eyes, he's already looking at you with the loveliest smile you've ever seen graze his face. You return it with one of your own.

"Si..." you pause, staring deep into his eyes. There's so much you want to say, a multitude of emotions running wild and untamed inside of you that needs to be addressed and yet you struggle to find the right words to tell him how you feel.

The realisation of what has just happened downs on you. You've spent years fantasising about this moment, fearing the real thing wouldn't even come close to your idealised perfect first time. Wondering when, where, with whom you would live through this experience. You're euphoric to admit to yourself that the real thing has surpassed the fantasy by a landslide.

"I'm... glad it was you."

It sounds silly when you say it. You could have chosen from a billion other thoughts you had swirling in your head, yet this one drowned out the rest. But as silly as it may sound, it’s the truth: you’re beyond thrilled he was your first. There’s no other man in your life that you trust, respect, and love as much as him with whom you could share such intimacy.

You see the angle of his lips curl up to one side, the pad of his thumb softly brushing the outline of your bottom lip.

" I'm glad it was me ."

Your face cracks as you erupt in a giggle. With your palm against his cheek, you gently push him away. "Simon..."

He smiles down at you, his eyes crinkling as he leans down again to kiss the crown of your head before drawing all the way back and getting off the bed.

Your gaze follows him as he tosses the used condom into the trash can and pulls up his underwear and jeans. As he picks up the rest of his clothes from the floor and gets dressed again, your devoted gaze glides up and down his body, a permanent smile engraved to your lips. You feel so lucky to be able to witness such a sight… You still have a hard time believing your eyes.

“Now, who’s enjoying the show ?”

His amused glance meets yours, and you give him a sheepish smile, followed by a shrug.

"I'm just taking it all in..."

"Oh, you've already taken it all in , princess."

You let out a shocked scoff, your mouth wide open. You dismissively wave your hand in front of your face and shake your head, as you feel a crawl of heat flooding to your cheeks.

"Oh, shut up..."

You love his sense of humour. It’s one of the qualities you like the most about him. And now that you’re… well, even closer to him, the sarcasm is only bound to get more pungent. Not that you’d complain about it.

His low chuckle fills your ears as you distract yourself by adjusting your bra and dress, then taking a seat on the side of the bed to slip your boots back on. You notice a heap of black and white fabric on the floor at your feet and bend down to pick it up. It's his balaclava.

The thought doesn’t even have time to fully form in your mind that you’re already pulling the mask over your head. Unfortunately there’s no mirror in the room to check your reflection, to see how the skull fits you but the cloth feels surprisingly nice against your skin and… you can smell his scent.

The sudden lack of rustling from behind you causes you to spin around and you find Simon staring at you, holding your jacket. He walks toward you, handing you the garment, reaching then for your face to adjust the fabric on your nose and on your chin. He stops to give you an appraising look.

"It looks better on me."

You chuckle, smacking him playfully on the chest. “Oh, c’mon… what if I want to wear one, too?”

"And hide your beautiful face? Negative.”

“Well, then…”, you pin him with a challenging look, palms pressing hard against your cheeks, securing the mask on your head. “I won’t let you hide your beautiful face, either.”

You see him softly shake his head as he huffs a chuckle through his nose. After a moment, he reaches for his back pocket and retrieves your undies, waving them high above your head.

“What? You’ll put those on your head instead?”

You try to suppress the laugh by biting on your lips but it erupts out of you anyway, like a river in flood. The pointed look he gives you only makes it worse.

“Alright, alright…”

Still snickering, you pull on the fabric and peel it off your head, holding it out to him.

He takes the mask from you but doesn’t let go of your undies. He puts them back in his pocket as casually as he took them out.

You scoff, tilting your head to the side. "Really?"

“I’m keeping them, as a memento.”

You stare at him, appraising his solemn expression. If he wants them then you’ll let him have them - the fabric is ruined anyway. They're not even your favourite pair, thankfully.

“First and last time you steal something from me, Si!”

“Can’t make promises, princess.”

Your chest swells as you try to read between the lines. It's inevitable. You can't help but wonder if he means to tell you something else. Will there be a next time, or multiple next times? Does he plan on stealing something else? Like, your heart? To be honest, he's already halfway there, but he doesn't need to know that. At least not yet.

You keep on looking into each other's eyes for a bit longer. You think you can detect the profound fondness behind his look. Your lips curl up in a shy smile.

“Ehm… I believe we kept the guys waiting long enough." you say, breaking the silence. "We should get back downstairs."

He gives you a curt nod but instead of moving away, he draws closer to you. Taking your chin between his fingers, he leans down and angles your head to brush one more kiss against your lips. The contact is strikingly gentle and it takes your breath away. It’s a kiss infused with unspoken words of devotion, promises, feelings which are too strong to be shared so early on but that are already there, growing, blossoming. Both your hearts are gardens in bloom.

He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours for a lingering moment before taking a step back and disguising his face once again.

The action saddens you but at the same time it fills your chest with pride; you're the only one who has been blessed to bask in the beauty of his seldom-seen bare face and no one else will receive such special treatment. Not today. Hopefully never. Is it selfish of you to wish that? Perhaps, but you don't care. Not when images of your lovemaking are still so fresh in your mind. Not when you can still feel the worshipping touch of his hands and tongue on your body. Certainly not when the cool, humid air of the room hits the wetness of your exposed core beneath the dress.

You exchange a knowing look before moving towards the door and walking down the stairs together. That soothing tune, now linked with poignant core memories, floods in your ears once again, growing louder as you return to the main area and towards the bar. Your team is still at the counter, exactly where you left them... how long ago? You have no idea how much time has passed. You were too engrossed in your passion to pay attention to the outside world and its trivialities.

Johnny glances behind his shoulder just as you and Simon make a beeline toward the group. You can see his lips moving; he must be saying something to the others because they all crane their heads to look at you before returning to their drinks. Soap is the only one who whirls around, bivouacing on his seat and all over the counter like a fucking braggart as he meets your eyes and winks at you.

Oh, he'll take yours and Simon's hookup as a personal victory, and he'll brag about it; you already know it. But you're far too happy right now to be bothered by it. Let him gloat. You're the one who got the reward, anyway.

When you eventually make it to the bar, no one acknowledges your arrival. Nobody says anything about your absence or the dance prior to that. Their silence only serves to emphasise that they are all aware of what happened. The furtive glances they cast your way, some more mischievous than others, serve as plain confirmation.

"Now that we're all here, I suppose we can head out."

The captain's voice calls out to everyone as he stands up from the barstool. "Unless the two lovebirds fancy one last drink?"

You try to ignore the appellation he used and the way your stomach flipped in response. You raise one hand and shake your head, avoiding his eyes as well as the urge to glance up at Simon. "I'm good."

A beat.

"Alright then. Off we go."

On cue, everyone gets off their seats, some knocking back their glasses, others stretching their legs. You take advantage of the shuffle to walk over to Johnny and hold out the key to him. He takes it back without a word but the sly smile playing on his face is hard to miss. You hope at least he has the decency to hold off of grilling you for deets until you’re back at the HQ.

You seem to catch a movement in your peripheral vision: Price giving Simon a firm pat on the shoulder? You’re tempted to turn your head to take a better look when a loud scoff interrupts you and draws your attention back to your best mate.

"Bloody hell, y/n! You and L.T. are not joking around!"

Your brows furrow upon hearing his remark and when you follow the trajectory of his stunned look, your eyes widen as they meet the cloth of your undies poking out of his back pocket. You spring into action right away, grasping the exposed edge to yank it farther inside his jeans. Simon’s own hand reaches behind him to wrap around yours, fingers interlacing, as he maintains his focus on Price in front of him. Your chest swells at the gesture, heat rising in your cheeks, but you manage to turn around and zap Johnny with a fierce glare anyway.

He makes a show of zipping his lips and throwing away the key. However, the grin he flashes you is so contagious that you find yourself returning one of your own.

It appears like you're in for a ride full of taunts, jokes, knowing looks and funny name-calling. Your mates will give you two no rest… but who gives a shit about it? Simon said it first. Why should you care? You'll take this and much worse if it means getting the chance to explore your feelings with the man of your dreams and spending many more nights out - or inside his spacious office - dancing together.

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predestinatos · 1 year ago

Text

inside me | CL16 ִ ۫ ּ 𓂅⋆ 🗝️.♡

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

pairing: charles leclerc × fem!reader

summary: feelings aren't something charles and you talk about. especially not when you're tipsy in a club bathroom. chapter 3 of an ongoing series.

tags: enemies to lovers, more jealous!charles, i never get tired of writing it, smut, sexual content, cursing, some progress in vulnerability sort of? not much, angsty-ish but soft? ending.

word count: 5.4k

📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ minors dni !! warnings & note underneath

warnings: smut, oral sex (male receiving), sort of rough sex, sexting, this is soo filthy, unprotected sex, creampie.

note: okay so! i got a bit carried away while writing this, clearly being so much bigger than usual, but it's to compensate for my 4-day absence which will surely delay the next chapter a bit!! thank you again so so so so!!!!! much for the good comments and support, it genuinely makes me very very happy. hope you like this one!

“Two more tequila shots, please” Oscar shouted to the bartender, the music muffling his voice and your thoughts.

The two glasses appeared before you, its content calling to your dizzy mind. Dropping the salt in your hand, you prepared for the countdown. Oscar looked flushed and giddy, already a bit tipsy, just like you. His cheeks were a soft pink and his eyes were constantly in a smiling expression, which spread itself to you. “A toast to a very good friendship” he said, laughing, as you clinked your cups against each other, licked the salt off of your hands, chugged the drink and placed lemon in your mouths.

Oscar and you had kept going out. You enjoyed each other’s company, talking to each other and overall just existing together. Of course, one of those nights you two had to have the talk you dreaded to have. Curiously, it was Oscar who started, his words spilling very fast and messily, although they could be condensed to a simple “I think we’re just friends.” You were totally okay with that. It simplified your life, and Oscar’s following proposal just made it even better. “That doesn’t mean we can’t… have fun together, though. If you’d like to.” And that was your relationship with him – purely a fun one, a jokingly flirtatious game where none of you had your hearts broken because there was nothing to break apart from a few glasses.

So, after many shots and funny faces at the taste were exchanged, here you were, dancing with him enthusiastically, your bodies jumping and touching and having fun.

You were surrounded by people you loved – Oscar, your friends, everybody at that club – and that loved each other in that moment. Your friends got along beautifully with Oscar, and you even saw some potential for deeper relationships with this one girl, so you were happy, insanely so. Except for one thing: the pair of eyes looking at you from you and your friends’ tables.

As much as you tried moving further away, enjoy yourself and drink away the burning hot sensation on the back of your head, you couldn’t. Charles’ gaze wouldn’t leave your body, filled with rhythm and loose, but contrastingly so tense from his eyes.

You knew Charles was coming. But you thought he would be calm about things, take them lightly and not care much, given the fact that you and him were in very weird territory. It was now hard to hide from your friends that something was going on – the snarky remarks had turned more like innuendos and inside jokes that made you blush, and there were only so many nights where, for some reason, only the two of you couldn’t make it. Apart from those two instances, your relationship with Charles hadn’t been physical again. Some texts were exchanged, sure, but neither of you knew what you were doing; you were ice skating on very thin grounds, which threatened to break at any given moment. It was a matter of who was going to take the hardest step.

“I’m pretty sure Leclerc is into you” Oscar started, laughing at something that wasn’t particularly funny were it not for the alcohol in your system. You laughed back, throwing your hands around his neck and letting your mind run through all the thoughts compressed in your head, all the sounds and sensations surrounding you. “You’re friends, why don’t you ask him?” you replied in his ear, hoping he would hear you, or maybe even guess what you were saying. Pulling away to look into his eyes, you saw him shaking his head in a negative motion, the tipsy smile in his pink lips “he would murder me if I even got remotely close to him.” You both bursted out laughing again, shrugging carelessly at the ridiculousness of it all. “No it’s just… he hasn’t stopped staring at us and I doubt it’s because he finds me attractive” the Australian continued, nodding his head towards where Charles was sitting. Unapologetically, you two stared at him, who also unapologetically refused to break eye contact. Holding a beer in his right hand, eyebrows furrowed and shirt sleever pulled up, he looked angry. Yet, he also looked attractive, his gaze dark and possessive, his left hand tense and his jeans hugging his legs perfectly. He raised his bottle towards the both of you as in a friendly excuse of a toast, or even recognition of your existence as something other than 2 nuisances. You nodded again in recognition, a peace treaty that was sure to be broken sooner than later.

As you turned around to keep dancing, you saw Oscar’s eyes widen in shock, amazement and amusement all at once. “What?” you asked, nervous. Before he could even answer, Charles was behind you, half yelling, half whispering, not to you, but to Oscar. “Can I borrow her for a second?”

In his drunkenness, but also his own enjoyment, he merely nodded gleefully, winking at you as Charles gripped your arm softly as if to assure you you were fine, or as fine as you could be in that moment.

The bathroom was tight. Very tight. Or maybe it was spacious but simply felt like it, when Charles was so close to you, his grip on your arm tight but not angry in the slightest. It also felt hot, burning and scalding, like being too close to the sun, yet you knew for sure they had AC and it was on. Releasing your arm, Charles pulled away from you only to lock the door of the bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, laughing drunkenly at the stupidity of it all. “You’re gonna drive a lot of people mad by doing that” you tell him while fixing your hair as best as you could. You notice his body stiffening at your words and how they mockingly leave your lips, and even though he is currently not close to you at all, you still feel him on every inch of your skin when he lowers his voice and says “you’re driving me mad.”

Perhaps because you were drunk, you giggled ironically. Not only was the situation frustrating to the point of laughing, it was clear you had the upper hand in this case, with Charles’ voice and expression finally showcasing more vulnerability than usual. “And why is that, Charlie?” you ask, keeping the mocking tone that was getting to him even more this time. With the question, you dared to walk closer to him slowly, not taking your eyes off of his face. His jaw tightened and he looked away, his brain seemingly as loud as the muffled music outside. For a few seconds, you remained like that, in silence, your defiance and his stubbornness fighting quietly. Upon his clear refusal to answer, all you could do was shrug, “that’s what I thought.” You start walking towards the door, but his tall frame stops you before you can get to it. You are, again, so close to him, feeling his scent, alcohol and expensive perfume, but not his touch, for his hands remain by his side. “I’m not going to stop you from leaving if you want,” he started, his jaw tense as he licked his lips. “Then answer me” you demanded.

It wasn’t even that big of a question, you just wanted to hear him admit that he was jealous, even though he had no right to be. You wanted to see where this conversation would go, if you could finally put an end to this game you two were playing, as painful as it was for you to end it. You knew deep down the reason why he didn’t answer was because that meant exactly that – it meant talking about feelings, about rules, about labels. And neither of you were ready to do that. You realized then that you were placing on him the weight of it, cowardice filling you even in drunkenness.

Running a hand through his hair frustratedly, he moved his feet to let you move towards the door, unblocking your passage. You suddenly felt cold, his frame not hovering yours anymore, and that gesture held more vulnerability than any other he had ever done in the past. So, because you were slightly drunk, or maybe in spite of it, you pulled him towards you and kissed him.

His whole body relaxed against you, letting out a frustrated and hungry breath. By now, his hands and lips felt familiar yet new all at once. Your heart raced as if it was all novelty, yet you knew it wasn’t, for you had been craving them for so long. The way he was kissing was new, however. It always seemed to be, every time you two met again, for he seemed to place more and more feeling and less and less thought into his kiss, his lips moving against yours in a needy, almost desperate way, much different from the previous arrogance he possessed.

He let out a breathy whimper against your lips, and you realized then how completely yours he was. You pulled even closer against you, his shirt collar feeling hard contrasting with his soft hands on your body, wrapping your legs around his waist as he placed you on the sink. The coldness of the sink causes you to hiss and then laugh to yourself amidst the kiss, to which he too lets out a soft chuckle.

“I’m serious, you do drive me mad” he suddenly said, bringing both of your thoughts back to that which you were trying to avoid. You looked down at the already visible bulge in his jeans, and your eyebrows raised before looking back up at him – “I can tell.”

Charles suddenly looked shy, not expecting your bluntness, and he looked away to compose himself. Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, he took a deep breath and placed his hand on your leg softly, to which you responded by biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes at the feeling. “You really want to talk about that?” he replied to your previous comment, his cockiness coming back as fast as it had disappeared upon realizing how turned on he made you feel by simple touches.

Feeling brave, playful, or overall crazy, you grabbed his other hand and brought it to your lips. You kissed each of his fingers carefully, not hiding your pleasured face as you felt his gaze darken at the sight of you. His grip on your thigh suddenly intensified, this time as an attempt to calm himself down, though it was clear he couldn’t do so successfully. Charles was already going absolutely insane over the view he had, but then you brought his hand to your cheek and placed his thumb on your open mouth. He inhaled sharply, in lustful anticipation, before you closed your lips around him and sucked his finger while looking up at him. “F-fuck… don’t do this to me” he breathed, his head cocked to the side, both desperate and demanding. You took his finger off of your mouth to reply, leaving your mouth smeared with saliva that he spread across your lips as you muttered “why not?”

With the question, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you around, your back pressed hard against him, feeling his heartbeat racing and his cock against you. His hand flew to your hair, pulling it so you could see yourself in the mirror, as the other went back to the position it was before, thumb pushing forcefully inside your mouth. “Look at yourself. You look so fucking hot. You can’t do this to me, not when I’m so so mad at you” he whispered in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your body, as he pushed himself against you harder, causing a moan to leave your lips. “What?” he mockingly asked, his eyes pierced on yours through the mirror, a dark smile spreading across his expression.

Everything Charles did hit you with a force a thousand times higher than anyone else. It was the years of accumulated tension that culminated in this incessant need for each other – and it didn’t seem to be fulfilled any time soon. So when Charles released his grip on your hair and removed his hand from your lips, you felt betrayed and disappointed, your underwear soaking wet but unsatisfied. “We’ve had enough fun for a night, you’re drunk” he said, tapping your shoulder carefully as if you were a child.

This sudden change in behavior managed to not only anger you, but also hurt you deeply. It felt like treason, of the highest sort – the way he suddenly seemed to care about your state actually, paradoxically, seemed like the meanest thing one could do in that situation.

“I was drunk the night in my house, too” you replied, your anger coming out of your voice and suffocating any attempts of the hurt from being noticeable. Charles merely closed him eyes softly, taking a deep breath. “We were both drunk. We were both impulsive” he said, opening his eyes and looking straight at you.

His words hit you like a punch in the stomach, making the music stop, at least in your ears, in your mind, in your body. You raised your eyebrows at him, and you wanted to scream, to yell at him, to hurt him back. And you knew the only way to do so was by doing the total opposite of what you felt like doing – “okay” – was the only word that escaped your lips as you made your way out of the bathroom, back into the noise, the drinks, the distractions.

You went home afterwards, your mind spinning and your body too exhausted to keep going. Oscar had dropped you off at home, already sober enough to drive (at least way more than you were), but not before listening to the whole story of What Is Going On Between You and Leclerc, his mouth hanging open during the whole journey. His goodbye was said through a kiss on the cheek and a “don’t show up to races with me anymore, I have to win!”, which made you laugh despite it all.

You now laid in bed, comfortable pyjamas on and too tired to take your makeup off despite the constant warnings from everyone that you should do so. You tried convincing yourself you’d do it later, knowing fully well the most probable scenario was you falling asleep just like that, but it didn’t matter. Your TV was on, something was playing in the background but you weren’t particularly watching it, for your head was still spinning.

The attention you weren’t paying at all was interrupted by your screen lighting up, which normally you would ignore, were it not for its content, and, more specifically, who had sent it.

Charles (Asshole): whre are you (3:12am) Charles (Asshole): cna we talk??? (3:12am)

You shouldn’t answer, in fact, you were tempted not to. However, his texts clearly revealed he was not sober in the slightest, and as much as you hated to admit it, you cared about him. Upon some minutes with your fingers hovering the keyboard on your screen, you replied.

You: home. pls call an uber (3:14am) Charles (Asshole): on my wya. i did. im not taht stupod (3:15am)

The wait seemed hours long. You sat there, before deciding to get some water for yourself, and also for him, who definitely needed it more than you did at this point. You checked how decent you looked in the mirror, and despite frowning a bit at the messy aspect of your comfortability, you decided it did not really matter given the state Charles appeared to be in.

Those suspicions were confirmed after a very badly typed “I’m outside” text, which you decoded well enough to open the door. You were greeted with Charles wearing a giddy smile, his eyes partly glossy and his cheeks red. He seemed unbelievably content, more than usual, and you knew it was because of the alcohol in his veins, his thoughts, his whole body. You stood aside to let him in, and without ceremony, he sprawled across your sofa. “Good memories in here” he started, his voice dragging, stumbling across some words, and finishing with silly giggles.

You merely rolled your eyes at him, despite how endearing he now appeared before you. Sitting next to him on the couch, you felt his head resting on your lap, which, surprisingly, did not ignite your need to protest. Instead, you instinctively caressed his hair, soothing him and yourself at the same time. He let soft murmurs escape his lips, and tried closing his eyes for brief moments. However, he quickly opened them, “God, it spins even more with my eyes closed” he said, bringing his hand to his brow.

“You should drink some water” you said, attentively. Charles looked up at you, his eyes shining with intoxicated passion, and his hand caressed your face softly. “You’re so pretty” was all he could say in reply to your suggestion, a reply which further confirmed the need for him to fulfill that task.

You carefully urged him to sit upright, which he did despite some protests, and brought the glass of water to his lips softly. You watched him gulp the liquid as it dribbled a bit from his chin towards his neck, and you shamefully looked away, images of other much different nights surfacing in your head.

You allowed yourself to look back upon hearing his satisfied “ah” and feeling the weight of the cup decreasing to its minimum. With this, you noticed his shirt unbuttoned, more than usual, and as he sat back, his chest almost fully exposed to you. Your eyebrows furrowed for a few seconds, and you bit hard, holding back whatever feeling was going through you, which you refused to name despite it all. He was drunk, you were not sober, you two had nothing, it was not the time.

You couldn’t help but make a comment though, “I see you didn’t let me ruin your fun” – you tried to joke, but it sounded more petty than you had intended. He looked towards his shirt, then back up at you, before letting out a loud laugh and running his hands through his hair. “Yeah, well, I wanted to take you off my mind. Clearly it didn’t work.”

There it was. The thin line you both didn’t want to cross. Frustratingly, the only times you were close to doing so had to be under the influence of alcohol, making it impossible to discern what is meant and what is blurted out. Because of this, you merely shrugged off a laugh, and remained in silence, looking down.

You felt and heard his body shifting closer to yours from behind, his hands making his way towards your shoulders and neck, massaging them softly. You let him, enjoying the feeling, needing it way more than you thought – either the massage itself or the simple feel of his touch, you couldn’t say. At first, his touch was light, almost hard to feel, like a soft breeze on your bare skin. However, slowly, his hands started applying more pressure, getting more greedy with their movements, as if consuming all of you.

His warm breath hit your neck and ears, the sensation causing your vision to completely blur. It impressed you, how despite being drunk, he seemed to know exactly what to do to push you to the edge. You turned your head back towards his and as is gaze fell on your lips, your heartbeat increased, signals travelling throughout your whole body.

Once again that night, you were aware of how you were the one who pulled Charles towards you, relieving him of the need he had for you like this – not merely with touches, but with a ravenous control and hunger, completely at his display. However, you pulled away, your mind stable enough to know what you were doing – if he already thought you drove him mad, he had no clue what was coming.

His confused expression met your suppressed smirk, and before he could protest, or at least question you, you spoke. “You’re drunk. Don’t want to be impulsive,” and with that, you got up and quickly went to your room, coming back with a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, which you threw on the sofa. “You can sleep here. Those are Oscar’s,” you were aware you didn’t have to say that, but at that point you realized there were no rules to this game anymore – everything counted. “Goodnight”

You turned away, leaving Charles processing what had happened in those minutes, how things shifted so fast. You felt satisfied with the control you had over him, the payback for what he had done, yet you couldn’t deny the frustration only increased as well. It took so much of you to pull away, to not give yourself up completely to him, especially when you knew how good he felt and how much he wanted you.

You sat in bed and turned on the TV once again, trying to drown the pulsating feeling in your core. It was hard to concentrate, knowing Charles was one door away, his warm body so ready to take you. The images running through your mind left you desperate, and you decided to take matters into your own hands – literally.

You slipped a hand down your stomach, inside your shorts, and touched yourself lightly through your underwear. You were embarrassingly wet, and so sensitive that as soon as your hand found its way between your legs, you left out a small moan. You knew it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear, yet you brought the other hand to your mouth impulsively and timidly.

As if guessing, your phone lit up once again, with a couple of texts that left you speechless.

Charles (Asshole): im tryign my best not to go there adn ruin you (4:02am) Charles (Asshole): but youre making it so hard fro me (4:02am)

You couldn’t move – at least, not anything but your hand, drowned between your legs, frantically moving in unconscious and needy desire. You simply stared at the text, biting your lip to prevent any noise from coming out of. As you stared at it, you saw the three dots that told you he was typing more. Your eyes flew to the door, as if you could see through it towards the living room, where Charles was lying, typing these messages to you. The thought of him behind that door got you lightheaded, feeling utterly drunk again.

Charles (Asshole): i know youore reading these (4:04am) Charles (Asshole): if you want me to, ill sotp (4:04am)

Upon that last text, which wasn’t a threat in the slightest but which you interpreted as such, given the urgency in which you needed him to continue, your hand flew to your phone, immediately typing a response.

You: dont stop (4:05am)

It was hard, typing with only one hand, the other occupied trying to replicate Charles’ own touch, and to make matters worse, you couldn’t think straight. Typing those simple words took more time than you cared to admit or wanted, and you knew he wasn’t dumb to not have realized that. That simple request you made boosted his confidence to reply in a manner that immediately hinted that he knew what to do, that he now felt like he had free reign.

Charles (Asshole): why not? (4:05am)

You couldn’t see him, yet you knew this question wasn’t innocent, you knew he was on the other side completely pleased with himself, a smile sprawled across his pink lips.

Charles (Asshole): asnwer me princess (4:06am)

The nickname, even when used to get under your skin – or maybe because of it – set you over the edge completely. You had been holding your composure for so long that this simple word made you whimper, this time loud enough to know he had heard it.

Charles (Asshole): fuck that was so hot (4:06am) Charles (Asshole): i want you so bad (4:07am)

You were now filled with ecstasy, your walls begging for him to fill you, your head swimming in overwhelming arousal. So, you decided to do what you were meant to do since you first placed your lips on his: keep playing.

You: prove it (4:08am) You: i dare you (4:08am)

That text was all it took for Charles to completely unleash himself, getting up from the sofa and moving towards your bedroom, opening the door with urgency, finding your body outlined by the television lights.

He had changed, somewhere in between your trip to your room and his first text, but only partially – he stood, shirtless, before you, standing at the feet of the bed as you looked up at him, your face leveling his waist area.

You licked your lips instinctively, and for a moment time stood still between him and you, his chest rising and falling deeply, his muscles tense with need. Charles broke that spell by placing his index finger carefully on your chin, raising your gaze towards his and stilling it there. You swallowed dry, lustfully. “Show me what you were doing before I came in” he demanded, roughly this time. In fact, his hand remained there, forbidding you from breaking eye contact, as you lifted your arm and brough it downward, back between your legs. “Were you thinking about me?” he asked, voice growing deeper, more imperious. You nodded, as best as you could with the pressure of his hand on your face, now carelessly holding all of you in it. “Use your words” Charles continued, his erection visible, directly in front of you, so desperate, so conflicting with how he seemed so composed and dominant. “Yes” you replied. Yet, this did not satisfy him in the slightest. His grip on you tightened, and a tsk escaped his lips as he shook his head negatively.

Your hand started moving faster, one finger now dipping inside you, which Charles did not fail to notice, but pretended to be unaffected by. Without warning, he pulled down his sweatpants, followed by his boxers, just enough to expose his erection fully to you. Letting go of your face with violent affection, he now gripped your hair as he held his cock in front of you. “Let’s give those pretty lips some other use since you don’t want to talk” he whispered, his tip now caressing your lips. “Open, princess” his tone was commanding, completely new yet so dangerously arousing. You promptly obeyed, shocked yet completely vulnerable before his own desire.

At first, Charles merely played with you, frustrating your desire to have him in his mouth, despite the fact that it frustrated him in the process as well. His grip on your hair got tighter and tighter, as this teasing game was clearly driving him insane. In a swift and quick movement, he placed himself fully inside your mouth, the warmth and wetness causing his body to shudder completely. You swallowed around him, feeling his desperate push to take more of him in. As you removed your hand from in between your legs to hold yourself on his thighs for support, he grabbed it, bringing it back to where it was. “Don’t fucking stop” he growled, almost incoherently. Having him fully inside your mouth, your nose so close to his navel, and hearing his authoritarian tone, caused a cry to escape your lips. You could barely think, let alone speak, now two fingers buried inside your wetness.

Charles movements were rough as he fucked your mouth relentlessly, your name leaving his lips as if in a chant, as you kept holding his gaze. “Tu es tellement doué pour ça, putain” French once again escaping his lips, giving away his lack of self control, as he unleashed himself completely to his desire. You couldn’t help but moan, your eyes teary with the pleasurable strength he was using with you, and you felt yourself close to coming.

Charles himself was close, but did not allow himself – nor you – to continue. Pulling out of you quickly, leaving saliva all over your now darkened and swollen lips, he did not hesitate to push you down on your bed, climbing on top of your body.

Impatiently, he pulled your pajama shorts and underwear off, whilst you pulled your shirt above your head, completely bared to him. Harshly and lusciously, Charles slammed two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out to prepare you for him. “So ready for me, fuck” he whispered, more to himself than for you, yet not caring if you heard it.

His already sweaty body shone in the near darkness of the room, satisfaction spread across his focused expression as he saw how your body yearned for his. Removing his fingers from inside you and placing himself between your legs, he pushed in inside you, his hardness filling you up completely. Your back arched instantly with bliss as your legs wrapped around him in an attempt to feel him even closer, as if such was possible. You were trembling from his scent, his breath and the sounds of your bodies on each other. His movements were fervorous and electric, a fast pace which burnt your vision and set your body aflame.

“Charles” your voice begged, as he continued his movements. Your voice worked on him as a reminder of how mad he was when it came to you, how much he needed to take his desire out on you, his jealousy released with each thrust. “Does anyone fuck you as good as me?” he asked, eyes closing slowly from the amount of pleasure he was feeling. You let out a crying “no” as he grunted, his face now buried in your neck, biting it hard.

A crazy thought crossed his mind, one which was more common than he could admit, one that he thought about frequently in the darkness of his room or even when he was trying to distract himself with anyone else – the thought of filling you up, claiming you as his. This was enough for him to be close, as your moans filled the thick air, and he felt so good inside you, enough to feel intoxicated by it.

“You’re mine” Charles let out, incapable of containing himself. His words caused your whole body to convulse with shockwaves of pleasure as you repeated “I’m yours” into his lips, his neck, your nails drawing patterns on his back. His hisses of pain and pleasure revealed how close he was himself, and he positioned himself in order to be able to look at your satisfied and sensitive expression of complete bliss. Charles erupted inside you with a final thrust that made you see fireworks, as the thickness of the air reached an all time high.

After a few seconds of chests rising and falling, breaths being caught and thoughts becoming clearer, Charles pulled himself out of you and laid next to you in your bed, grabbing the remote as he caressed your arm softly.

That movement, the familiarity and comfort of it, how different it was from the uncertainty of what you two were, to the nature of your ‘relationship’, to you still filled with his cum, suddenly made you want to cry.

You wished he would leave, complete the final act so you can repeat it soon, so things didn’t get complicated, complex and hard for you to do anything about. The frustration was enough for you to get up with a “I’m going to take a bath” in a tone he recognized – somehow – as unlike you.

Getting up from his seat, he followed you into the bathroom, where you stepped into the shower and turned the water on, ignoring his presence completely. You kept focusing on the water running down your body, how it resembled his own touch but not as fulfilling, as pleasurable. The sound of the water running incessantly calmed your thoughts, enough so that you could barely hear him come in the shower himself, turning you around so you could face him.

His expression was tender but nervous, aware of something floating along with the vapor of the warm water, fogging the mirror. Yet, he pulled him to you in an embrace in which you two remained for long, longer than maybe it was supposed to, longer than for it to be considered normal. Pulling away, his lips fell onto yours gently, in a kiss that possessed more words than both of you cared to admit.

You knew, then, that was all he could give you in that moment. And you did not know how to feel about that.

@cmleitora @marialovesf1 @champagneholland

#charles leclerc #formula 1 #f1 fandom #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1blr #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 4 months ago

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Bound by Love and War

Pairing: Steve Rogers X reader (already established) eventual Steve X reader X Bucky

Warnings: None! Just fluff🤭

Word count: 2.1k

Authors Note: I’m in love with these two, literally have me in a choke hold, enjoy!

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It hadn’t been some grand declaration or movie-style romance that brought you and Steve Rogers together. It started with quiet moments after missions, both of you sitting side by side in the Avengers compound, talking in hushed tones to unwind after the chaos. Steve had always been easy to talk to, even when his status as Captain America had once made him seem untouchable. But over time, beneath that shield and that larger-than-life presence, you saw the man: Steve, not the Captain.

You remembered the first time you’d actually let your guard down around him. It was after a particularly rough mission. Your telekinetic powers had saved lives, but it had drained you. Physically, mentally, emotionally. You’d found yourself in one of the compound’s common rooms, staring out the window at the skyline, feeling the weight of the world pressing in.

Steve had quietly joined you, his presence always calm and reassuring. He didn’t speak for a long time, but his closeness grounded you in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I know that look,” he said after a while, his voice gentle but sure. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

You sighed, brushing away the emotions threatening to spill over. “I’m not as strong as you, Steve. Not in the way that matters.”

He had turned to you, his eyes soft and warm. “Strength isn’t about being unbreakable. It’s about being willing to let people help when you need it.” Then he reached out, hesitating for just a second before resting his hand on yours. It was such a simple gesture, but in that moment, it felt like an anchor.

That night was the start of something neither of you had fully realized at the time. More and more, you found comfort in each other’s company. The late-night talks turned into early-morning runs together, which, admittedly, were more him dragging you along until you found your rhythm. And those quiet, shared moments began to feel like home.

It wasn’t until a mission where things went sideways—where you had been cornered and Steve had fought his way to you with a desperation you’d never seen in him—that everything became clear. His eyes, wild with fear and relief when he found you, said it all. As soon as the danger was over, he had pulled you into his arms and held you tight, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“I thought I lost you,” he had whispered, his voice breaking.

You had pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, heart pounding. “I’m here, Steve. I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, something shifted. He had kissed you, slow and tender, like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. And maybe, just maybe, you were.

That was almost a year ago. Since then, you and Steve had built something real, something steady in the middle of the chaos that was your lives. He was everything you could’ve hoped for: kind, supportive, strong in ways that went beyond the battlefield. He didn’t just see the hero in you; he saw the person.

But there had always been Bucky.

At first, it was easy to write off the connection you felt with him as something natural. Bucky was Steve’s best friend, practically family, and over time you’d grown close to him too. He had opened up to you in ways you didn’t expect, sharing pieces of his tortured past that he still struggled to reconcile with. You admired his strength, his resilience, and the way he always fought to be better, even when he didn’t think he deserved it.

It had started as friendship. But the longer you spent around Bucky, the harder it became to ignore how your heart sped up when he was near, how your thoughts drifted to him in ways they shouldn’t. You loved Steve, there was no question about that. But the truth was, part of you had begun to love Bucky too.

And that was where things had gotten complicated.

One night, after a quiet dinner together, you and Steve had been sitting on the couch, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. There was a weight between you—something unsaid—but you could feel it pressing in. Steve had been distant, thoughtful, and you wondered if maybe he sensed it too. The growing tension, the unspoken feelings.

“I’ve noticed something,” Steve said quietly, breaking the silence. He wasn’t looking at you, but at the floor, as if gathering his thoughts.

You felt your stomach twist, nerves creeping in. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, turning to face you. His expression was soft but serious. “I think… you have feelings for Bucky.”

Your heart dropped. This was it. The moment you had been dreading, where the truth you hadn’t wanted to admit came spilling out. You had no idea what to say, how to explain it without breaking his heart. “Steve, I—”

But before you could even finish, he held up a hand. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain. I’ve seen it for a while now.”

You blinked, confused. “You’re not mad?”

Steve smiled softly, his hand reaching to cup your cheek. “No. How could I be? I love you. And I know you love me. But I also know that you care about Bucky. And… I care about him too.”

Your heart raced at his words. “You… you have feelings for him?”

He nodded slowly, looking as though he had come to terms with something that had been weighing on him for a long time. “I think I always have. I just didn’t realize it until recently. He means everything to me, and seeing the way he’s been with you… I guess it made me realize I’m not the only one.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. This wasn’t the conversation you had expected. And yet, here Steve was, not angry, not hurt, but understanding. Maybe even feeling the same way you did.

“So what do we do?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Steve’s thumb brushed against your skin gently. “What if we didn’t have to choose? What if we asked Bucky to be part of this? All three of us. Together.”

You stared at him, unsure if you had heard him right. Could something like that work? Could you love them both, and could Steve, and Bucky, love each other the same way? The idea felt almost impossible, but in a strange way, it made perfect sense.

“What if he says no?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Steve’s expression softened. “Then we’ll figure it out. But we won’t know unless we talk to him. And something tells me he might feel the same way.”

The sun had barely risen over the horizon, casting soft golden hues across the landscape of the Avengers compound. You stood on the training field, focusing on lifting several objects in the air with nothing but your mind. Your telekinetic powers hummed in the air around you as you moved boulders, crates, and even a few steel beams without breaking a sweat.

A familiar voice brought you out of your concentration.

"Still showing off, huh?" Steve Rogers—Captain America himself—smiled as he approached. His blue eyes sparkled as he crossed his arms, admiring your abilities.

You smirked and set the objects down carefully. "Just keeping my skills sharp, Captain."

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm. The two of you had been together for a while now, navigating the chaotic world of being superheroes and partners. It hadn’t been easy, but Steve’s steady presence and unwavering sense of duty made everything seem possible.

"I’ve been thinking," Steve started, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. You raised an eyebrow at him.

"That’s never good," you teased.

He chuckled softly but then grew serious, his gaze searching yours. "No, really. I’ve been thinking about us… and about Bucky."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Bucky Barnes—Steve’s best friend, the man who’d fought through hell and back, and someone you’d grown incredibly close to. Your feelings for Bucky had grown over time, and they had become confusing, tangled in your deep love for Steve.

"You have feelings for him," Steve stated, not as an accusation but as a fact. "And I know I do too."

You blinked in surprise, taken aback by his honesty. You had thought about it before—those stolen glances between Steve and Bucky, the quiet moments they shared, the unspoken bond that felt stronger than just friendship.

"Well… we had that talk the other night but what are we going to do about it Stevie?," you asked him softly, trying to process what Steve was saying.

He sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I wasn’t sure at first, but it’s been on my mind for a while now. I love you, more than anything, but I also care deeply about Bucky. And I can see how you look at him."

Your face flushed as you looked down, feeling slightly guilty for the affection you had for Bucky, even though your love for Steve had never wavered.

"I don’t want to hurt you," you whispered.

"You’re not," Steve reassured, taking your hand in his. "Why don’t we talk to him about it?"

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. "What are you saying?"

Steve’s thumb traced circles on your hand, his touch soothing. "What if we invited Bucky to be part of this? The three of us, together. I mean it this time. All three of us together."

You stared at him, your mind racing. Could something like that work? You knew how much Steve meant to Bucky, and if Steve had feelings for Bucky too, maybe this wasn’t such an impossible idea. And your heart had been aching for Bucky for so long.

"What if he says no?" you asked quietly.

Steve smiled, that soft, reassuring smile that made you feel like everything would be okay. "Like I told you yesterday, we’ll figure it out but, love we won’t know unless we ask him. And knowing Buck… I don’t think he’ll say no."

Later that day, you found Bucky in the gym, his metal arm gleaming under the overhead lights as he punched a heavy bag with ferocity. His dark hair was damp with sweat, and his jaw was set in concentration.

Steve and you approached cautiously, waiting for him to finish his set. Bucky noticed you both and gave a small smile, wiping his brow.

"Hey, what’s up?" he asked, catching his breath. "Something on your mind, Stevie?"

Steve exchanged a glance with you before stepping closer to Bucky. He was nervous—you could feel it—but he pressed on.

"Buck, we need to talk to you about something," Steve began, his voice calm but firm.

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he sensed the seriousness in Steve’s tone. "Okay… what’s going on?"

You swallowed, your pulse quickening as you spoke up. "It’s about us. Steve and me… we’ve been talking. About you."

Bucky’s confusion deepened. "Me?"

Steve took a deep breath and stepped closer to his friend. "We care about you, Buck. More than just friends or teammates. And we were wondering if… if you’d want to be part of our relationship."

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock, his body going still. He looked between the two of you, clearly trying to process what had just been said. "Wait… what? You’re serious?"

"Dead serious," Steve confirmed. "We love each other, but we also love you, Bucky. And we want to be with you."

Bucky stared at the two of you, his mouth slightly agape. He had been silently pining for you both for months now, his feelings buried deep beneath layers of guilt and denial. He never thought in a million years that this would be possible.

"I… I don’t know what to say," he finally muttered.

"You don’t have to say anything right now," you said gently, stepping closer to him. "We just wanted you to know how we feel. And we don’t expect you to decide anything immediately."

Bucky’s blue eyes searched yours, then Steve’s. His heart was racing. He had always felt like an outsider, someone burdened by his past, undeserving of happiness. But here you both were, offering him a place, a family, a chance at something real.

"I’ve… I’ve wanted this," Bucky confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I didn’t think it was possible."

Steve grinned, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, it is."

For the first time in a long time, Bucky allowed himself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

He smiled softly, feeling the weight of his fears lifting. "Okay… let’s give this a shot."

And in that moment, standing together with the people who had always been by his side, Bucky felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: home.

Hope you enjoyed! Please follow, like and Reblog💜 -Midnight’s Cafe

#steve x bucky #steve x reader #bucky x reader #stucky x reader #stucky #x reader #steve x reader x bucky

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pomegranti · 1 year ago

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Poor Nanami..

Nanami x Reader short

Warnings: Quickie, rough sex, cream pie, jealous Nanami.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Poor Nanami, he works so hard, risks his life daily and puts up with Gojo’s annoying remarks every time he clocks in. But he does it all for you, pretty little Y/N. Everything he does, just for his special girl…So why are you such a brat about it? Sending him needy texts while he’s busy, being pouty when he gets home late, and constantly lingering around other guys whenever he takes you to his business parties. Even if it’s not intentional, he can see the way they look at you with their predatory gaze, the way you laugh and feed into their awful personalities, boosting their egos. Mindlessly nodding to whatever his co-worker is blabbering about, he pretended like he was listening, all the while his gaze was focused on you, the way the guys around you gently brushed their hands against you subtly, whispering things in your ear that made you laugh. It was infuriating, tightening his grip on the cup he had before apologizing to his co-worker, and that he would return shortly. Stalking towards you, he snatched your wrist and dragged you off from the crowd, all the while you resisted while demanding an explanation for this. “Nanami! What do you think you’re doing? Let go, it hurts!” Yanking you into the bathroom, he wasted no time in turning you around and bending you over the sink, tangling his fingers in your hair. “I know you think I don’t notice, but I saw how those men lingered around you. You think you can get away with whoring yourself out right in front of me?” Words laced in venom, he unzipped his pants and pulled down his briefs, freeing his aching member, only to push your panties aside as well, breath fanning against your ear. “W-Wait Nanami! Please just give me a second, I’m not prepped yet!-“ Cutting off your words with the thrust of his hips, your lips parted into an o-shape, legs trembling while your hands gripped the edge of the marble sink. Holding you up to get a better angle, your heels were lifted off of the floor by a few centimeters, relying solely on the support of the sink to keep you from crumbling apart. Pinching your eyes shut at the burn between your legs, you could feel Nanami begin to retract his shaft before connecting your hips once more, causing your body to jolt in surprise. Hand remaining in your hair, the other one found itself on your hip, keeping you still while you began to plea for god knows what. “Stop squirming or else I’m going to pull out.” Whining in retaliation at his words, he repeated his earlier process, gaining a steady rhythm as he thrusted in and out of your pussy. Nails clawing at the counter, he tugged your head to make you look at the mirror, seeing the way your eyes became glossy. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” He spat, grunting in your ear each time he sheathed his length within your velvety walls. “M’ sorry for…ah- s-sorry for being a brat..” Moans filling the room, your release rapidly approached with the way he plowed into you, not giving a moments rest. Satisfied with your apology, he turned your head to face him, to which he leaned closer in order to capture your lips for a kiss, murmuring praises with each gasp for air. Walls tightening around your length, the addition of praises was just enough to push you over the edge, a high pitched sound rolling off your tongue while clear fluids gushed around his cock. Not long after, Nanami released a particularly loud groan, connecting his hips to yours as the white substance painted your insides, dripping onto the tile floors. Eventually pulling out, he readjusted his appearance, pulling his pants back up while fixing your dress, sliding your panties back to cover your core that was dripping with his cum. Tightening his tie, he placed a kiss onto your forehead, ready to leave the bathroom. “I hope you learned your lesson.” He said, before exiting back to the party, leaving you a mess against the sink.

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Note: ahhh tysm for all the likes on my Choso short, don’t forget to leave requests so I know what to write, part 2 of Gojo is still in works ^^

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami jjk #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x you #kento smut

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nenelonomh · 8 months ago

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get addicted to real dopamine

TW: mention of self-harm

dopamine is a neurotransmitter that plays a significant role in our brain's reward system, associated with feelings of pleasure and satisfaction. it is released during enjoyable activities like eating, exercise, and social interactions, reinforcing behaviours that are essential for survival. however, the term "addiction" typically refers to compulsive engagement in rewarding stimuli despite adverse consequences.

some examples of these consequential behaviours include substance abuse, reckless driving, unsafe sex, self-harm, neglecting health, overeating, and poor financial decisions.

the best way to break free from such harmful behaviours is to replace your negative habits with positive ones. finding healthy alternatives that fulfil the same needs as harmful behaviour, and seeking professional help if needed

for further reading, click the links below. ray family therapy, breaking bad habits reimagine, understanding harmful habits: the psychology behind our actions

but that's not what this post is about. i just felt the need to touch on it, since it is a huge positive of being addicted to real dopamine.

to experience the positive effects of dopamine naturally, you can engage in activities that promote its healthy levels, such as:

regular exercise: physical activity is known to boost dopamine levels and improve mood. during exercise, especially when it's challenging yet achievable, the brain's reward centre, particularly the nucleus accumbens, releases dopamine. this release is part of the brain's reward system, which is being activated during pleasurable activities, reinforcing behaviours that are beneficial for survival and well-being.

the release of dopamine during exercise contributes to feelings of happiness and accomplishment (improved mood). it also contributes to enhanced memory, attention and problem-solving skills, stress reduction, and better motor performance.

balanced diet: dopamine is produced from amino acids, particularly tyrosine and phenylalanine, which are found in protein-rich foods. consuming a diet that includes adequate protein ensures that your body has the necessary building blocks to produce dopamine.

benefits of dopamine from a balanced diet include enhanced mood, improved cognitive function, increased motivation, and regulation of movement. dopamine is involved in the brain's reward system, which motivates us to repeat behaviours that are pleasurable or beneficial (increased motivation). it is important for motor control, so proper levels can help with coordination and movement.

adequate sleep: quality sleep is crucial for regulating neurotransmitter levels, including dopamine. it helps to maintain the sensitivity and function of dopamine receptors. sleep deprivation can lead to a decrease in dopamine D2 receptors, which are associated with arousal and reward.

dopamine is involved in regulating the circadian rhythm, our internal body clock that dictates when we feel awake and when we feel sleepy. adequate sleep helps keep this rhythm consistent, which in turn supports healthy dopamine levels.

adequate dopamine levels contribute to a state of alertness and wakefulness during the day. sufficient sleep can help regulate the stress response, which is partly mediated by dopamine.

mindfulness and meditation: these practices can increase dopamine levels and improve focus and concentration. additionally, they can enhance the efficiency of brain pathways that process sensory information, which may lead to increased dopamine release.

higher dopamine levels can lead to feelings of calmness and contentment, improving overall mood. regular mindfulness practice can help maintain a positive balance of neurotransmitters, including dopamine, which can reduce stress. by increasing dopamine, meditation can help regulate emotions, leading to better mental health outcomes.

learning new skills: the process of learning can increase dopamine production, as it's associated with reward and motivation. this reward system encourages the continuation of learning and skill development.

new experiences, such as learning new skills, can reset key brain circuits, enhancing the ability to learn and adapt to new situations. activating dopamine receipts through learning can lead to improved cognitive flexibility and the ability to switch between tasks or thoughts more easily.

also, releasing dopamine due to learning new skills contributes to a positive mood, making learning an enjoyable way to regulate emotions.

in summary, these operations can stimulate healthy dopamine release, which has so many positive benefits. it's a natural and rewarding way to promote personal growth and mental health.

for further reading on the topic of healthy dopamine release, see the links below: medical news today, how does dopamine affect the body? healthline, how does dopamine affect the body? very well health, what is dopamine? cdc, about adverse childhood experiences healthline, 10 best ways to increase dopamine levels naturally bbc, learn something new to boost your brain psychology today, dopamine's role in learning and memory

i hope today's post was helpful. ❤️ nene

(photo credit: pinterest)

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natsuki-bakery · 4 months ago

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⁎˚ ఎ Bungo Stray Dog Agere ໒ ˚⁎

hi!if requests are open,can I get some headcanons for baby regressor Poe with CG! Ranpo,pleaase?

•Poe’s introverted and socially awkward nature makes regression a safe haven for him. He often regresses when he's overwhelmed by social gatherings or after a stressful day of trying to outwit Ranpo. In his regressed state, he finds comfort in solitude, surrounded by familiar objects and Karl, his raccoon companion, who provides him with emotional support and a sense of safety

•As a regressor, Poe is even more attached to Karl than usual. The raccoon becomes his caretaker in his regressed state, with Poe clinging to him or holding Karl close as a source of comfort. He talks to Karl in a childlike tone and treats him like his best friend, relying on him for companionship and comfort

•In his regressed state, Poe prefers quiet, solitary activities, like coloring, reading picture books, or playing with small objects like plush toys. He enjoys stacking blocks or building simple structures, getting absorbed in the peacefulness of the activity. He often curls up in a cozy corner with his toys or blanket, focusing quietly for hours

•Given his elaborate, formal wardrobe in his adult life, regressed Poe gravitates toward soft, comforting clothes like oversized sweaters, onesies, or cozy blankets. He particularly loves soft textures that feel gentle against his skin, providing him with a sense of warmth and security when he wraps himself up in them

•When regressed, Poe becomes even more sensitive to criticism or perceived failure. If someone unintentionally dismisses his efforts (like a drawing or a simple accomplishment), he might become upset or cry easily, reflecting his underlying fear of not being good enough, especially in comparison to Ranpo. Words of reassurance and praise can help him feel secure again

•Despite being a writer and intellectual in his adult life, regressed Poe loves being read to. He finds comfort in the soothing sound of someone’s voice, often choosing simple stories or gentle poems. The calmness of listening to a story, especially from someone he trusts, helps him relax and feel safe in his regression

•Just as he dislikes social gatherings as an adult, regressed Poe becomes anxious and overstimulated by loud or crowded environments. He prefers quiet, dimly lit spaces where he can be alone or with a trusted caregiver, away from too much noise or activity

•Poe often slips into regression after a particularly frustrating or disappointing encounter with Ranpo, where he feels outwitted or inferior. It’s his way of coping with the jealousy and pressure to live up to his own high standards. In his regressed state, he lets go of the need to compete, finding relief in not having to be "the best" for a while

•During regression, Poe has a noticeable sweet tooth. He enjoys simple treats like cookies, soft cakes, or fruit-flavored candies, which make him feel comforted and happy. The act of eating something sweet becomes a soothing ritual for him, especially when he’s feeling anxious or upset

•Even in his regressed state, Poe remains soft-spoken, often too shy to ask for what he needs directly. He communicates more through gestures, like tugging on someone’s sleeve when he wants attention or cuddles. His voice becomes quieter, and he relies on trusted people to understand his needs without him having to verbalize them

•When it’s time for rest, regressed Poe loves listening to soft lullabies or calming music. The gentle tunes help him relax and drift into sleep, often while clutching Karl or wrapped up in his blanket. Music with a slow, steady rhythm brings him a sense of peace and safety

•Ranpo would tease Poe endlessly, calling him "slow" or "too gloomy," but it’s his way of lightening Poe’s anxiety. Ranpo knows Poe tends to overthink and get stuck in his head, so he deliberately tries to distract him with playful banter

•When Poe’s self-esteem dips due to his inferiority complex around Ranpo, Ranpo steps in without making it obvious. He might say something teasing like, "Don’t try to be as great as me, it's impossible !" but secretly, he’s giving Poe room to grow without too much pressure

•He’d challenge Poe’s self-doubt by giving him complex tasks, pretending they’re minor but knowing Poe can handle them. For example, he might casually ask, "Poe, my sweetheart, figure out where this villain might strike next. You’re a writer; you should know how criminals think !"

•Despite his playful exterior, Ranpo is surprisingly practical. He notices when Poe hasn’t slept enough or has been working too hard on his manuscripts. Ranpo might throw a blanket over Poe’s shoulders or leave snacks nearby without saying anything, ensuring Poe takes care of himself

•If Poe is particularly stressed, Ranpo might take him out for walks in the city, under the pretense of investigating a case. In reality, it’s just a way to get Poe to relax and step out of his comfort zone

•Understanding Poe’s introverted nature, Ranpo wouldn’t push him into uncomfortable social situations. If the Agency had a gathering, Ranpo might cover for Poe’s absence, brushing it off like, "Oh, Poe’s busy writing something brilliant, you know how he is !" This allows Poe to maintain his space without judgment

•However, if Poe does attend, Ranpo would stick by him, making sure he doesn’t feel overwhelmed. He’d handle any social awkwardness with his usual confidence, diverting attention when Poe feels uncomfortable

•Ranpo never forces Poe to talk about his feelings but gives him opportunities to open up, often solving minor mysteries for Poe to break the tension between them

•Ranpo has a way of providing comfort without making it obvious. If Poe is deep in self-doubt, Ranpo might sit next to him, saying something like, You’ll figure it out, little one, you always do" in a nonchalant manner. Poe would find reassurance in Ranpo’s laid-back confidence in him

•After particularly tough cases, where Poe is exhausted from using his ability or feeling mentally drained, Ranpo would hang around Poe’s space more, even if just to be there. He wouldn’t say much but would radiate a sense of calm that helps Poe unwind

•Ranpo knows how much comfort Karl the raccoon brings to Poe. He’d sometimes enlist Karl’s help if Poe is in a particularly bad mood. Ranpo would leave Karl with Poe, saying, "Your partner here seems worried about you. I think you should take a break" using Karl as an excuse for Poe to rest

•Ranpo would still maintain a sense of rivalry, but in a supportive way. He might say things like, "You think you can beat me in deduction ? Let’s see who figures this case out first !" It motivates Poe but keeps the mood light, with Ranpo always ensuring that Poe doesn’t get too discouraged if he "loses"

•He ensures Poe knows that, despite any failures or setbacks, his growth as a detective and writer is evident, further boosting Poe’s confidence and sense of belonging within the Agency

If you're in the basic criteria , are DSMP fans, vivziep0p fans , h0tel/h3lluva b0ss fans, Owl h0use fans, St4r butterfly fans, Ghibli fans, ddlg/abdl blogs, nsfw/k!nk blogs, anti-agere blogs, or anti Christians/Christianity blogs : just dont interact !

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daebakinc · 28 days ago

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Dirty, Dirty Dancing Pt. 11 (M)

A Dirty Dancing AU

Pairing: Yunho X Female Reader X Hyunjin (polyamorous relationship)

Word Count: 4.5K

Warning: MMF threesome (It may again be too spicy for some to handle)

Synopsis: The college campus where boyfriend, Yunho, is a visiting dance instructor seems like every other university you’ve visited until a secret party reveals it’s anything but. After a drunken mishap, promising dance student, Hyunjin, is left without a dance partner. Enlisted in helping him before a big audition, you begin to catch feelings for him. Can you help him and maintain a relationship with your boyfriend?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

~Admin V

“Ready?” Hyunjin asked.

Yunho looked him in the eye as he exhaled then nodded his head. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Squeezing Yunho’s hand to show your support, you watched as Hyunjin crawled on the bed and lifted Yun’s legs so they were bent.

Hyunjin hooked his arm under one, lifting it and giving him more access to the entrance. With his other, he placed his tip at Yunho’s hole, pausing to look at him.

Yunho just nodded. Both men gasped loudly as Hyunjin pressed in slowly. He kept himself in an upright position and gripped the mattress once he entered.

Fingers still laced with his, you used your free hand to rub Yunho’s arm to reassure him that he was okay and this was a safe place.

“I’m okay,” he breathed. “Are you okay?” he looked at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was a little shaky in his breathing. “You’re just tighter than I was anticipating.” He and Yun let out an awkward chuckle.

Continuing at a slow pace, Hyunjin kept pushing in, grabbing Yunho and the mattress firmly.

There was another inhale from Yunho and his eyes closed. You assumed Hyunjin had touched the g-spot.

“How do you feel?” you squeezed his hand.

“It’s good,” Yunho breathed. “It’s full.”

There was a grunt from Hyunjin. “I’m in all the way. Do you want me to pull out just as slow and back in at this pace? Or do you wanna try to speed up?”

“I think the slow pace a few more times, then gradually speed up.”

Nodding, Hyunjin pulled his hips back, causing Yunho to cry out a bit. Hyun went just as slow as he pushed back in, Yunho moaning when the younger rubbed against his prostate.

“You’re taking him so well,” you whispered in Yunho’s ear, which made him shudder. “You’re being so good, king.”

“Baby,” he groaned. Your words were helping with his arousal.

Watching the two men also helped with your arousal. Hyunjin carefully rolled his hips slowly, making sure Yunho was comfortable with the action as he slowly pumped in and out.

“I’m ready to speed up a little,” he looked at Hyunjin.

“You’re sure?”

Yunho nodded, so Hyunjin secured his grasp on Yunho’s leg. He pulled almost all the way out at the slow pace, then as he gyrated in, he was a little faster, his hips moving in a lazy rhythm with him groaning to the sensation.

Moaning in pleasure, Yunho jerked each time his prostate was stimulated. After a particularly loud whimper, you looked down at Yunho and noticed the clear liquid of precum seeping from his penis.

You turned to whisper in his ear. “Is Hyunjin making you feel good?”

He answered with a quivering nod. “Yes.”

“Are you going to be good and cum for him?”

He cried out as Hyunjin thrusted in. “Yes. Yes. I wanna cum.”

Brushing his sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, you then gazed at Hyunjin, who was also glistening in sweat. “Hyun, can you go faster and try to focus on his prostate?”

With a nod of confirmation, Hyunjin pumped faster, both men groaning loudly in bliss. Yunho squeezed your hand tighter. You noticed him grabbing at the mattress.

“Hyunjin,” your voice was calm as you focused on Yunho. “Go faster, and don’t stop. He’s almost there.”

There was a loud grunt from Hyunjin, then both men getting louder as he complied.

“Fuck,” Yunho arched from the bed. “Fuck, fuck,” he moaned louder.

As Yunho pressed back into the mattress, Hyunjin stopped thrusting. The two of you watched Yunho jolt with the first spurt of ejaculation. He groaned loudly and spasmed with the second and third spurts. “Fuck,” he sighed again, trembling from his climax and gripping the bed.

You brought his hand your mouth to kiss it. He let out a quiet moan, his chest still moving up and down deeply to catch his breath.

“Yunho,” Hyunjin’s voice was unsteady. “I’m pulling out, okay?”

His eyes were closed, and body still vibrating. “Yeah.”

They both let out a whimper as Hyunjin removed himself from Yunho. Hyun carefully got off the bed and went into the bathroom. Yunho gripped your hand more, still lost in euphoria.

You leaned over to kiss his cheek. “How was it?”

Eyes still closed, he smiled. “I now understand Hyunjin’s reaction to San last night. It really was the most intense orgasm.”

“Good,” You kissed his cheek once more.

He giggled a little as he turned his head towards you. “It does feel a little strange though.”

“I’m sure it’s something that will take a little time to get used to.” You looked him over, his ejaculate gleaming on his tummy. “Let me get a wash cloth to clean you up.”

“I can do it.” Hyunjin was out of the bathroom. The condom was gone, but he was still hard.

“You worked hard. You can relax while I do it.”

He waved his hand at you, heading back to the bathroom. “I’m already up, might as well.”

Shifting to your side, you leaned on your elbow as you looked at Yunho. “So, you’re willing to try this again?”

“Yes,” Yunho grinned.

“And next time there can also be some penis play?”

The grin was still there, but he glared at you. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Hyunjin chuckled as he emerged with a warm wash cloth. “We won’t kill you. Just make you forget your name and how to walk.” He started to clean Yunho.

As Yunho softly inhaled while sensitive places were being cleaned, you brushed his hair with your fingers. “Besides, dying from orgasm sounds like a pretty great way to go.”

All three of you laughed to that.

Hyunjin was at Yunho’s stomach to wipe up the cum. A smirk appeared on Yunho’s face. “Speaking of orgasm, you two still need to.”

Hyunjin paused his cleaning and together you looked at Yunho.

Yunho’s smirk turned into a smile. “I wouldn’t deprive either of you of getting off, especially when,” he gestured to Hyunjin’s erection, “he still wants to play,” and focused on you, “and I’m sure your earlier activities with Hyun and the dirty talk have you more than ready.”

“What do you propose?” You watched Yunho.

“You stay on your back, Hyunjin mounts you, and I stay here, partaking in any way I please,” Yunho grinned.

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help but smile at Yunho. Of course he still wanted to play. Looking to Hyunjin, he didn’t seem so sure.

He bit his lip, looking a little shy. “I’m just not sure I can last very long after. . .” he motioned to Yunho.

Excited, Yunho sat up. “That’s okay. I can get her to your level while you get another condom ready.”

You gave Hyunjin a sympathetic look. “If you don’t want to, it’s alright.”

A wicked smile appeared on his face. “Well, I do like orgasming. And we’ve been deprived of hearing your moans and screams.”

“Can’t have that,” Yunho agreed.

Hyunjin went for another condom and Yunho began undressing you, removing your shirt and bra. Laying on his side, his mouth went over the shell of your ear, nibbling on the lobe then sticking his tongue in your ear, which made you squirm. His hand then snaked under your pants and undies, his fingers reaching between your folds to rub up and down against your clitoris.

You felt Yunho smiling against you as a loud, breathy moan left your lips. He still worked on your ear as his fingers stroked you in a firm, quick motion.

Now ready for his second round, Hyunjin lifted your pants and undergarments from you. “Open your legs for me,” he commanded. When you did, his wicked grin was back. “She’s so wet for us, Yunho.”

Leaving your ear, Yunho looked to him, then you. “Yeah she is.” He kept his focus on your face and Hyunjin crawled over you.

Hyun looked in your eyes as he pressed into you, both you and him groaning in rapture. Your hand quickly grabbed onto his shoulder blades.

Yunho changed the motion of his fingers on your bud from up and down to circles, causing you to cry out. “What do you want, baby?”

Feeling so good from both men, you needed a moment to think. You turned your head to Yunho. “I want your mouth on my neck.” You then looked at Hyunjin. “I want you to focus on the breast you didn’t get to touch earlier, and to kiss me.”

Yunho immediately obliged. Hyunjin gave a little smirk, cupping you as requested, then leaned down to kiss you. His hips rolled in a steady rhythm as his thumb found your nipple and tongue entered your mouth.

With Yunho leaving sloppy kisses on your neck and stimulating your clit, and Hyunjin thrusting into you while focusing on your breast, you understood earlier when Yunho said having everything aroused at once would kill him. You were already on the precipice of climax. You were dizzy with Hyunjin’s scent and taste, wanting to focus on the soft velvet of his tongue, but then Yunho had your head spinning as he started sucking on your neck and continued working your sensitive bud. Hyunjin pressed roughly against your nipple as he gyrated into you, catching your g-spot.

You couldn’t help it as your nails dug in slightly to his skin, causing him to growl.

Switching the direction of his circling fingers, Yunho caused a particularly loud mewl to escape you into Hyunjin’s mouth. They both had you as desperate as Yunho was earlier.

Chuckling, Yunho brought his mouth back to your ear. “I need you to trust me.”

You pushed back from Hyunjin’s kiss. “I trust you.” Your voice came out as a loud screech.

His hand left from between your legs. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but you heard a grunt from Hyunjin, and then he thrusted sharply into you, making you both cry out.

“You’re both so close for me,” Yunho was calm as he spoke. “You can both cum together at the same time.”

Hyunjin yelped as Yunho continued his ministrations, causing another rough pump into you.

“Yunho,” you whined. “Please put your hand back on me.”

Chuckling, he did as asked, and though he was no longer touching Hyunjin, the younger man was getting a little messy as his rolled his hips into you.

You cried out as Yunho circled your clit faster than he was before.

“I’m going to count down,” you could hear the smile in Yunho’s voice. “And when I get to one, you’re both going to finish for me.”

Hyunjin and you could only answer in moans and sounds of pleasure.

“Ten.”

You and Hyunjin both moaned loudly. The countdown only increased the desire to orgasm.

“Nine.”

You squeezed around Hyunjin, making him groan thunderously. The feeling of endorphins rushing through your body spread to your toes. “Yunho, please, I can’t last the countdown.” One of your hands tangled into Hyunjin’s hair, holding on tightly.

“You’re not cumming until I tell you to.”

A whimper came from you as well as Hyunjin.

“Eight.”

Hyunjin was losing his control. He took his hand from your chest and grabbed the mattress, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rolled his hips, harder, faster.

“Seven.”

Yunho rubbing your clit the way he was had your legs shaking uncontrollably. You screamed out his name, then Hyunjin’s as the younger pumped harshly against your g-spot.

“Six.”

“Fuck,” Hyunjin moaned. He lifted from you. “Please, Yunho. I can’t make it to the end of the countdown.”

His chuckle was evil. Yunho took his hand off you, and you heard it slap against Hyunjin’s ass, causing him to thrust into you. Yun would control the movement.

“Five.”

It was again rough and fast, and the two of you got louder in your passionate outcries.

“Four.”

The moans and grunts were louder still.

“Three.”

Hyunjin was shaking above you, his sweat mixing with your own.

“Two.”

Your walls tightened around him and Hyunjin whimpered. Muttering curses.

You both waited for Yunho to say “one” but he didn’t.

Turning your attention to him, you both moaned and cried out his name, begging him for release.

An unholy eruption of laughter came from Yunho. “Okay. Cum for me, babes. Cum for me now.”

The screams from the two of you were sure to be heard from the outside. Both of you shook frantically as you finally reached your pinnacle. Hyunjin collapsed on you as you still felt yourself cumming, your orgasm still making its way through your fingers and toes. Your grip on Hyunjin loosened, and your arms just rested on him.

Neither of you could speak, still quaking. There was no doubt that Yunho helped the two of you to reach the same level of euphoria he had achieved.

Turning your head, you saw the wide, Ginchy smirk on his face.

“You came just as hard as we did!” you accused him. “You can’t be all proud like this.”

He smiled. “Oh, but I just made you both cum as hard, for me, at the same time.”

Hyunjin finally had some energy to roll off you. He pouted at Yunho. “You’re just lucky we can’t return the favor at this moment. But just you wait. There will definitely be payback.”

“I look forward to it.” Yunho’s prideful grin also made you smile. “So, my turn to clean you two up, huh.” He brushed hair from your forehead and leaned down for a chaste kiss. He then reached over you to kiss Hyunjin as well. He gave you one more quick kiss on the nose, then got off the bed to get a washcloth.

Laying there, you just stared after him. Hyunjin’s fingers brushed your hair behind your ear, so you rolled slightly to face him. “Hey,” you grinned.

He grinned back. “Hey.” He reached to also give you a chaste kiss.

You’d never seen the expression on his face before and felt a little worried. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, his grin still slightly there. “I don’t think I thanked you.”

“Thanked me?”

He nodded.

You were confused. “For the earth-shattering orgasm?”

Yunho came out of the bathroom at that moment, chuckling as he brought the warm wash cloth to Hyunjin first.

Hyun gasped as Yun removed the condom and wiped him down, but he still looked at you. “I didn’t know I was missing you from my life.” He turned to Yunho. “Both of you.” He faced you again. “You were brave enough to fight for us both. It feels whole, having you both like this,”

“Complete,” Yunho nodded in agreement. “I should thank you, too, baby.”

You didn’t know what to do with both men looking at you so lovingly, but you felt it, too. Your world was perfectly full now.

Hyunjin reached to kiss your cheek.

Yunho had finished cleaning the younger then looked you over. “Baby, a washcloth will be useless on you. You need a bath.”

“If you can carry me to it.”

“Sure,” he smiled. “I’ll start the water.” He went back into the bathroom.

“It is just a bath,” you yelled after him. “I cannot handle a round two!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he sounded amused from the other room.

After cleanup, the three of you spent the evening in the cabin, ordering food and enjoying each other’s company before all cuddling up in bed together and passing out.

The next morning, you were woken up by two phones making buzzing sounds. Snuggled between Yunho and Hyunjin, you asked if they could get them.

Picking up one of the phones, Yunho rolled to his back. “It’s mine.” He scrolled through it for a bit. “It’s an email from President Park. He wants to have a meeting in his office at 9:00.”

“Why?” you rubbed at your eyes. Park made it plenty clear he didn’t care about Yunho or the dance department.

That caused Hyunjin to pick up his phone. After looking at it, he jolted up in bed. “I got the same email.”

Shit. Why would he want to see both of them?

Yunho remained optimistic. “Maybe the dance company informed him about your acceptance. He is the head of the school after all.”

Hyunjin didn’t look convinced but nodded his head as he looked down at the screen.

�� You decided to get dressed and walk with them to his office. If it was exciting news, you wanted to be ready to celebrate with them both.

Yunho had his usual upbeat bounce as he walked. He even had his signature closed smile. Hyunjin, however, looked worried, and that made you worried.

There was a bench across from the office door in which you planned to wait at while they had their meeting.

Still looking calm, Yunho leaned to kiss your cheek. Hyunjin still looked nervous, so you gave him an encouraging hand squeeze. He gave you a small smile in return then looked to Yunho. After knocking on the door, they both went into the room, closing the door behind them.

You sat on the bench trying to stay hopeful.

With the building being so old, the walls and door were nice and thick so you couldn’t hear much of what was happening inside.

There were many different flags standing on poles on both sides of the halls. They were of other countries, so you guessed it represented the countries of all students who went to the school. A security office was down at one end of the hall with a student lounge across from it and main entrance which the three of you came in from. At the other end was the admissions office and then it led into a dormitory.

That’s when you saw Changbin walking from the dorms your way. He was avoiding eye contact with you, but you wanted to talk to him. Despite how everything panned out the day before, you still wanted to apologize to him. You hadn’t realized how hurt he was from taking his spot or that it stirred up old wounds.

He walked past you, still ignoring you. You were about to say something to him when the President’s office door slammed open.

Hyunjin stormed out right by you and headed towards the dorms.

“Hyunjin?” you called after. You felt Yunho’s hand in yours and looked up to him. His cheery smile was gone.

Before you could ask what was wrong, President Park stood in the doorway. “And as for you, missy, you’re just lucky the food company is not owned by the school, or I’d have you fired, too. And make no mistake, if I do see you on this campus for anything other than food related services, I will have security escort you out for trespassing.”

Your mouth fell open. You didn’t have a chance to respond, as he went back into his office and closed the door in your faces.

Fired, too?

“What happened?” Your voice was soft.

Yunho held both your hands tightly. “Someone told Park about the three of us sleeping together.”

Your eyebrows drew together. “So, that’s not his business.”

Sighing, Yunho rubbed his thumbs on the back of your hands. “Well, since I’m a teacher, he deemed it his business and fired me for inappropriate relations with a student.”

“No,” you whispered.

Yunho didn’t give a grin to try to lighten the mood, which meant there was worse news. Looking down, he exhaled. “Because you’re my partner, he believed we manipulated Hyunjin into picking you as his dance partner, and that because I’m an expert dancer, you might also be, which gave him an unfair advantage at his audition.”

You shook your head, feeling angry now. Of course that was a lie. Looking away from Yunho, you noticed Changbin down at the other end of the hall. He saw you and his face turned red. He scurried out of sight.

Did he tattle to Park?

“So,” Yunho continued, “Park called the dance company to inform them that Hyunjin may have been cheating.”

Your heart sank into your stomach. “That’s not true!”

“We don’t know what was said, or if the company even believes him, but with that kind of accusation, they’d have to investigate it, so it does risk his place in the company.”

Tears welled in your eyes. Hyunjin worked so hard. He earned his spot in that company if they were going to give it to him. Park really was a heartless piece of shit.

Yunho sighing brought you back to focus. Fuck. He wasn’t done. “Because the routine he was going to do for the Senior Showcase was the one he and I created, and you his partner, he’s no longer allowed to participate in the showcase.”

Now you were fucking pissed. This was bullshit. You were at a loss of words. So much of this was just ridiculous.

“And the last thing. If I want to get paid for any of my time this week, we have to leave the housing in the next hour.”

The fuck? “What?” Again, you didn’t know where to start with words. “What if I have a catering gig or they call for dining hall help?”

“We’ll find a cheap motel nearby. I still want to go to the showcase. Even if I can’t help them anymore, I still want to support them.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Of course.” You brought your hand to your forehead. “Do you have to tell Christopher and Seonghwa?”

Running his fingers through his hair, you knew he was just as frustrated as you were. “Yeah.”

There was a lot you both had to do, and an hour wasn’t a lot of time to do it all.

“I did it for nothing.”

“What,” Yunho looked at you.

“I hurt Changbin. You lost your job. Hyunjin lost his company position. I did it for nothing!”

Yunho lifted your chin. “No one has ever helped Hyunjin like that before. You know what kind of life brought him to dance. You remember how icy he was and untrusting. You changed that. Look at this new relationship we have because of you. That’s not nothing.”

Tears streamed down your eyes. “We have to leave him, Yunho. Park is physically making us leave him.”

He pulled you into a hug and rubbed your back. “We’ll figure this out, baby.”

You wanted to be comforted in Yunho's embrace longer, but time was not on your side. He decided to head down to the dance department to explain the situation and how he was no longer available physically but would be there in spirit for the department.

You called Yeji to let her know the situation. She also believed Changbin had something to do with it and was ready to lay his ass out. After the phone call, you wanted to find Hyunjin. If you had to leave, you needed to see him before you had to go.

His art studio was empty. You weren’t sure he’d head back to the dorms, though you did recall him heading that way. Would he be looking for a fight with Changbin? You couldn’t picture him going to the dance studio. And Yunho would see him and let you know if he was there.

You just felt lost. So much had spun out of control in a matter of seconds. And you didn’t have time if you needed to be off campus so Yunho could still get paid.

Deciding it would be better to start packing up, you headed back to the housing accommodations.

You were startled to see Hyunjin in the living area. He stood upon seeing you and you immediately ran into his arms. The crying couldn’t be helped as you pressed your face into his chest.

His fingers combed through your hair. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Backing away, you looked at him, tears still in your eyes. “How can you be okay?”

Sighing, he held your face in his hands. “Because I still have you and I have Yunho.”

That made you cry harder. “But you don’t. He’s kicking us off campus. Park even threatened me that if he saw me around for anything other than catering, he’d call security on me.”

His jaw twitched hearing you were threatened, but he quickly went back to being calm, wiping your tears with his thumbs. “But I know Yunho will find some place to be close by. I know you both aren’t kicking me out of your lives. So, I miss the Showcase. It’s one dance. It doesn’t define me. Plus, now I can go to the art exhibition.”

You sniffled and wiped at your face. “But the audition? What if he fucked it all up for you?”

Hyunjin smiled. “Admittedly, when I stormed out of his office, that was why. I was pissed if he fucked that up for me, especially after how hard we worked. But then I thought about it. His reputation for hating the dance community is notorious, so I seriously doubt they’d take anything he said seriously.”

“Right,” you nodded. That had to be true.

He lifted your chin so you’d look in his eyes. “Plus, we rocked the hell out of that routine. They wouldn’t just blow it off because of his word.”

You couldn’t help but smile then and hugged him.

The door opened, and Yunho sighed in relief. He walked towards the both of you and wrapped his arms around you.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Hyunjin said.

“Yes, we are,” Yunho agreed.

“I just hate this,” you mumbled into someone’s shirt.

Both men chuckled and petted at your hair and back.

Yunho sighed. “We have to finish packing up and get off campus.”

Hyunjin nodded, and though you were still crying, you went back to gathering up all of your items.

It didn’t take long with three of you packing up, and you all made sure you had everything from every drawer and corner.

Before long you were all in the parking lot. Yunho was finishing putting the bags in the car and making sure everything was secure.

You stood awkwardly, not sure what to say to Hyunjin. “I can’t imagine not being here with you.” You sighed in annoyance. "We never even got a chance to talk about what would happen after your graduation."

“Well, I guess now I really will have more time to study for my finals and finish all my papers.”

That made you laugh. “Yeah. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

"We still have time to figure out the rest. This isn't the end."

"Yeah." You looked at him and grinned. “I guess we surprised everybody.”

“I guess we did.” He went back to lifting your chin. “I’ll never be sorry.”

“Neither will I.”

“Never,” Yunho agreed. “It’s the three of us now.” He pulled you all in for one final hug. He exhaled when letting go. “We gotta go, baby.” He grabbed Hyunjin’s shoulder and nodded a goodbye.

Hyunjin pulled your face to his, giving you a soft, chaste kiss. “I’ll see ya.” He backed away.

As you and Yunho got in the car, you watched Hyunjin as he watched the two of you drive away.

#hyunjin #yunho #jeong yunho #stray kids #ateez #yunho ateez #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin fics #yunho scenarios #yunho fics #kpop scenarios #kpop fics #kpop smut

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inghrafn · 24 days ago

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I'm putting this here so that you can read it, get familiar with the terms &catch phrases, see into/behind them, and know what we're going to be dealing with now that HR 7 2025 has passed hurdle #1

Here's screencaps of the brochure disseminated by the Pro-Women's Healthcare Center Consortium named in HR 7 2025. Please note the incredible blondeness of the representative Women who are so very, very happy about said Healthcare

A few snippets stand out as particularly sinister & disingenuous.

Portraying women's present freedom as being actually imprisoning or limiting, and REAL choice and empowerment as 'no other choice' or the 'opposite of choice' Characterizing motherhood and adoption as plausible for women who clearly feel otherwise but might be persuadable if they receive 'comprehensive care' (sustained bullying, pressure, fear/guilt tactics) Framing abortion as essentially an oppression of UNBORN women ("many of whom are females"), implying that you can't call yourself a feminist if you would support the endangerment of a woman who does not in fact exist... even as HR7 2025 endangers women that DO

Notice that 'women' come second to 'men' in this discussion of women's health care

OK, so I practiced strict fertility awareness method (FAM) for 15 years, with the goal of never, ever, EVER getting pregnant. I WAS empowered to understand my body's natural fertility, and it certainly DID result in empowering and effective family planning... but probably not in the way the PWHC Consortium intends. Because there is no way FAM can work if the woman in the equation is not 10000% the lead player in the process. She can't ask her man's permission-- he must ask hers, and her answer is sacrosanct.

Though my spouse & I practiced FAM together, MY body was the source of all our data, and MY body was the one that would host an unwanted embryo if we slipped up. I made goddamn sure we didn't slip up. All I had to do was remember my mother who had four kids she didn't want because the "rhythm method" prescribed by the priest was deliberately misstated to cause more pregnancy than it prevented... or her mother, my grandmother, who birthed a baby nearly every year of her marriage and died of heart failure with Number Six in her belly... Something tells me that the FAM taught by Pro Women Health Centers is DESIGNED to produce the same results. A baby a year until you drop, at which point you know which one of you they'll save.

I want every single woman on this earth to have access to HER choice of contraception-- the easiest, safest, simplest, most accessible, societally supported and governmentally guaranteed birth control that SHE ALONE CHOOSES, and it should be FREE OF CHARGE. Her method, her way. Not any other way but that.

#HR 7 2025 #HR7 2025 #House Resolution 7 2025 #women's rights #reproductive rights #reproductive freedom #bodily autonomy #pro choice

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divinekangaroo · 1 year ago

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Thanks @palmviolet for tagging me!

How many works do you have on AO3? 154

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 900k

3. What fandoms do you write for? Peaky Blinders, Final Fantasy XII, Final Fantasy VII, Dragon Age II, The Professionals.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Interesting and not straightforward question: I've been writing since 2007 and only rebooted my fics to AO3 in 2023. I backdated them to time of writing rather than posting live into the current update stream. I was vaguely curious to see what *actually* attracts readers through the AO3 search engine. So, my current top five are all Peaky Blinders Tommy/Lizzie fics, and given my small followers list, everyone following me will probably already have read them!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do, and it’s my vain (both senses of the term) struggle with how to do it appropriately. I am conscious of how comments, particularly on an AO3 "archival" fic, can weight a reader's further interpretation/engagement of or with fic by that author, and that I'll never put so much time into comments as I do into fic.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? 7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The fics I thought of picking for these two pretty much overlapped. Perhaps this shows just how I approach happiness – it’s moments, it’s never an ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Only old Dragon Age fics. Interesting period of time where any fic author that didn't unequivocally support the moral rightness of one particular character's opinions was targeted. Like: ok to write torture/rape fics of this character, but only if it was clear the author thought this character was morally right. Such a destructive troll.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I'll write sex, mostly as part of a larger arc rather than standalone smut; often it is a partial scenario rather than linear start-to-end event written in a rhythm to support a coherent wanking rise-to-climax read. I'm pleased if people find it pushes their buttons, but I'm also not bothered if it doesn't. I do approach smut as one of many possible lenses or frames for a character, however, so smut that detaches from character confuses me.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Sometimes but they have to feel really right. I think I tend more to fusion or pastiche (I think those are the terms?) rather than crossover: I take a particular character concept/theme and port them into a particular environmental context which is not possible in the canon to see what happens. The only one I still have up is a FFXII/Dragonriders of Pern fic (incomplete) which was going to be all about the horrible knowledge of socially accepted and endorsed ritualised rape and forced feminisation of a character.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I'm not that popular to notice.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I have a memory of one in FFXII but can't recall.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! Taught me a lot, including the kind of writer I am - difficult to collaborate as my push to complete within a motivational urge period will always be greater than a long-haul effort, and I struggle to be available for other people. I’m either good at the front end ideas-generation, or a micro detail ‘write this particular thing/scene and fill it with goodness’, and not very good at the middle bit – the long slot of planning and plotting and aiming for consistency etc. I am so grateful fandom exists to support non-traditional prose formats which let me play with writing and thinking and engagement without needing to produce to book-style production standards.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship? I usually fixate on a character, and pairings allow means to explore that character rather than being an end game.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Oh they all carry this potential. *cries* The issue for me is loss of motivational drive/thinking; because I rarely have good structural notes etc if I lose my immediate thread of 'thinking of everything all at once' I find it hard to pick up again later. I also stop some fics because I realise how ambitious the scope really is, and I feel like I can’t do them justice.

16. What are your writing strengths? Speed-sketcher? Completionist? Tests multiple ideas rapidly and freely and never worries about something 'being wrong' because there's always another fic to try? Intuitive gut level hits on characterisation here and there?

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Editing, pacing, I can't sustain long fic, I frequently move characters around like paper dolls for the sake of the cool and forget they need their own internal motivation.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I prefer the kind of cant-based/dialect-based approach which splices non-English terms fluidly into English dialogue, mostly because as a child of many migrants this has been my world experience. I do suck at writing this, hence my frequent use of cop-outs to say 'language shift here, meanwhile still writing in English'. But when it’s done well it hits so many of my sweet spots.

19. First fandom you wrote for? FFVII.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Anything in my Personal Favourites list: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3728710. (I'm still too close to Peaky Blinders to pick a fav, it'll take about five years of distance!)

#my writing

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pooohwriting · 4 months ago

Text

Tell me I mean nothing

Lady Portia Featherington x Female Reader

Warning: This story is a product of my imagination. Please respect my creativity and do not copy, reproduce, or distribute this work without my permission. Thank you for your understanding and support!

Summary: When Miss Y/N Montgomery returns to the ton after a long absence, she is unprepared for the whirlwind of changes that await her. The unexpected reappearance of Lady Featherington stirs feelings she struggles to understand, leaving her heart in turmoil. Will she discover the true meaning of her feelings, or will confusion reign over her heart?

Chapter 2 : The Heart's Confusion

"It has been some time since the last ball—days, perhaps weeks or even months—since that fateful encounter with Lady Featherington.

I returned to my parents' estate after my mother mentioned she was struggling to gather the necessary ingredients for our perfume and scent business. While it wasn’t an urgent matter, I decided to come back to offer my assistance.

The family business is delicate and demands precision, for even the smallest delay in acquiring rare botanicals or essential oils can disrupt everything. My father has always taught me the importance of timeliness; a setback in any part of the process can affect production and our success in the market.

Gratitude washed over me as I realized how rare it was for a woman to be invited into the intricacies of the family business. The thought of my parents’ unwavering support filled me with a warmth that lingered long after I left the room.

Right now, I’m sitting by the window, admiring the garden. The yellow flowers look so lovely against the green, with other colors scattered about. The tranquility enveloped me, and I couldn't help but smile at the garden's splendor. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting playful shadows that danced across the ground, while the vibrant blooms seemed to sway in rhythm with the gentle breeze, a joyful reminder of nature’s artistry.

I smiled, recalling how vibrant the garden looked, particularly the leaves and flowers, which seemed to dance in the sunlight. It brought to mind Lady Featherington’s exquisite style.

“Y/N, you seem lost in thought,” my mother said from behind me. I chuckled softly. “Just admiring the garden, Mama,” I replied, turning to her with a soft smile. She stood beside me, her gaze lost in the lush greenery outside, the corners of her mouth lifting in appreciation as she took in the view. “Are you planning to stay with the Bridgertons for a while? Are you certain Lady Bridgerton is comfortable with that?”

“Yes, Mama, I’ll stay there for a while before returning home. Are you quite certain you won’t be going to the ton? I’m sure Lady Bridgerton misses you.”

“I won’t be going, perhaps soon when everything runs smoothly. Besides, I have plenty of perfume to make with the others, and your father is managing the financial matters. He sometimes lends a hand in other areas of the business.” She smiled and gently placed her hands on my shoulders. “You should enjoy your time there and socialize. You can invite the Bridgertons over when you visit us, but do let me know first, alright?” I nodded and smiled in agreement.

“I heard the new season has finally begun,” my father announced as he entered the living room. “A new season?” I inquired, realizing they were referring to the arrival of new debutantes. I remembered my decision to forgo the season to focus on studying literature, finances, and other subjects that interest me and will aid in our family business. I have no regrets about that choice.

"Yes, I believe it was last month, though I’m not entirely certain.” He laughed, and we exchanged smiles. “So, what time are you heading to the Bridgertons?” he asked. “Probably after breakfast” I replied. They both nodded in understanding. All of us head to the dining room to have our breakfast.

After that, they helped me load a few of my belongings into the carriage. I only brought a small amount, as I could always return whenever I wished.

“Be safe and enjoy yourself, alright? And do give my regards to Lady Bridgerton,” my mother said, and I nodded. “You too,” I replied to both of them before hopping into the carriage. As we set off, the journey to the Bridgertons began.

I arrived at the Bridgerton estate, and Benedict hurried over to help with some of the items from the carriage. “Welcome back! We’ve missed you already,” he exclaimed.

“Please, it hasn’t been that long. Did I miss something? How are you faring at the academy? Are you doing well?” I teased, and he laughed.

“The academy is splendid, and oh yes, you’ve missed quite a bit!” he chuckled. “My brother Anthony is now engaged to Miss Edwina Sharma”

“Wait, what?!” I gasped, the words tumbling out in disbelief as I fell into step beside him. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Y/N! You won’t believe it! So much has happened—Anthony is engaged to be married next month! You have to meet the Sharmas—they’re delightful!

I release a light chuckle while following them towards the drawing room. “I’ll put these in Eloise’s room quickly,” Benedict added, and I nodded in gratitude as he hurried off. I followed Eloise into the drawing room.

“It’s wonderful that we’ll be staying together! We can discuss everything, especially Lady Whistledown,” she said, chattering excitedly as we entered the drawing room.

“Y/N!” Hyacinth exclaimed, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Hyacinth, it’s lovely to see you! Oh, Colin! You’re back!” I called out as he greeted me as well. I noticed Anthony preparing his attire nearby. “Nice to see you again, Y/N,” Lady Bridgerton said with a warm smile. I returned the gesture. “How have Lady and Lord Montgomery been?”

“They are well, my lady. They mentioned they would visit soon when everything runs smoothly,” I replied with a smile. “What else did I miss while I was away?”

“A great deal, I assure you! Anthony is to be married next month, as I suppose you already know,” Lady Bridgerton said with a smile, glancing at Eloise and Benedict, who exchanged teasing smiles in return. I couldn’t help but join in their mirth as she moved to stand beside Anthony.

"Congrats Anthony!" And the nod in acknowledgements "see how the cuffs are an inch too short" he said to the man who i assume his modiste.

I head for the refreshments just right near them as I listen to their conversations. Eloise is reading her book as well as gregory, and Hyacinth and colin eat their food as they talk about the upcoming wedding and for the future.

"and what about Miss Edwina's sister" Hyacinth ask "What about her?" Anthony asks back "Will she come to live with us, too?"

"Oh I do hope so. It will be a boon to have another intelligent woman in the house. and Y/N you should meet her soon Im sure you'll love her" Eloise said Happily "Another? Mm you're overcounting" Benedict said and I just chucles while I make myself a tea.

"Eloise, I shall need your help today. There is the dinner to plan with Lady Danbury to welcome the Sharmas into the Family and the the engagement ball next week---"

"I am sorry Mama, but uh I am attending a lecture this afternoon. Flower arranging something" Eloise said while going to the refreshements table where Benedict and I currently at, I looked at her curiously while smiling "Penelope's mama is forcing her to go and you've wanted me to find more ladylike pursuits" She added then looked at the both of us

"For how long have you cared about flower arranging" Benedict asked while smiling "Im an open minded woman an i care about many things" Eloise said and I chuckle while benedict smile widely at her as she eats her food

I decided to join Lady Bridgerton and Colin at the lake, where I knew Anthony would be with the Sharmas as well. Colin eventually parted ways with us, and I chose to remain with Lady Bridgerton. The atmosphere was lively, I look at the area, boats drifting lazily on the water, children laughing and playing on the grass, their carefree joy lifting my spirits.

As I followed Lady Bridgerton, my gaze swept the gathering, seeking a particular woman I had not laid eyes on in several weeks. How is she? I chose to admire the surrouding cause I am certain our paths will meet again.

“Lady Danbury, Miss Edwina, may I introduce you to Miss Y/N Montgomery?” Lady Bridgerton said, bringing me back from my thoughts with a warm smile as she made the introduction.

A pleasure to meet you, Lady Danburry and Miss Edwina Sharma,” I greeted them, receiving a warm smile in return. As I listened absently to their conversation about the upcoming wedding, I couldn’t help but notice Anthony, who seemed rather quiet, his gaze fixed on the lake. Feeling a desire to explore my surroundings, I decided to excuse myself.

Perhaps a stroll would provide a welcome distraction from the lively chatter, allowing me to take in the beauty of the day and gather my thoughts.

I began to admire the ducks as they paddled near the shore, and, finding a small piece of bread in my pocket, I tossed it to them. They were quite endearing, and I couldn’t help but smile at their antics. My gaze wandered once more across the lively scene, and suddenly, I caught sight of her—a vision in a bright green dress, her face lit with a radiant smile. Relief flooded through me, and I found myself smiling broadly.

The sudden rush of emotion urged me to walk toward her, but I halted halfway when I noticed she is in deep conversation with a gentleman from the group she had been standing with. They had moved aside, their expressions serious, and I stood frozen, unsure whether to approach or wait.

I hadn’t realized how long I had been standing there, caught in my own thoughts. Now that she was alone, I took a deep breath and seized the opportunity to approach her. “Lady Featherington, it’s a pleasure to see you here today,” I said, a broad smile spreading across my face as she jumped slightly at my sudden presence.

“Miss Montgomery,” she greeted, her tone composed, but a warmth radiated from her expression when our eyes met. Those blue eyes—so captivating, so easy to lose myself in—held my gaze for only a fleeting moment before she turned away. I followed her line of sight, noticing she was looking back at the gentleman from earlier. A small knot formed in my stomach, but I brushed it aside. Why did it bother me to see her with him?

“Mind if I ask who that gentleman was?” I inquired cautiously, trying to keep my tone light despite the strange tension I felt.

“It’s Lord Featherington,” she replied, her eyes still focused on him.

“Lord Featherington,” I repeated, clearing my throat as the name hung awkwardly in the air. Could that mean…?

“He was my late husband’s cousin,” she added, meeting my gaze directly, her expression steady but guarded.

“Oh, ohhhh,” I stammered, the heat rising to my cheeks. “I thought he was your husband—sorry,” I quickly added, casting my eyes briefly to the ground before looking back up at her, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and relief.

“Oh, it’s quite all right,” she said with a smile. “Where have you been? It feels like weeks or months since we last saw each other,” she asked, her tone light and welcoming.

“I’ve been helping my family with our business,” I replied proudly. “Everything seems to be running smoothly now, so I thought it was time to return.” I noticed the way her smile lingered as she listened, and I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of something unnameable as I watched her.

“How about you, my Lady? How are you?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s been... eventful, to say the least,” she replied, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Between the arrangements for my daughters and the never-ending social obligations, it feels as though I’m always balancing one thing or another.”

She paused, her gaze drifting toward the lake, the sunlight dancing on the water’s surface. “You know how it is in our world. There are always demands to fulfill and expectations to meet. It can be overwhelming at times, but one learns to manage.” Her smile lingered, yet a flicker of weariness shadowed her eyes.

I stared into those beautiful eyes, feeling the weight they carried despite her strength. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked softly, wanting to ease some of her burdens.

Portia’s expression shifted slightly, a guardedness creeping into her demeanor. “Oh, no need to trouble yourself,” she replied, her voice light, yet a flicker of hesitation shadowed her eyes. “Lord Featherington and I can manage.” Her smile was steady, but the tightness around her lips suggested a burden she was reluctant to share.

As she spoke, her gaze flickered back to Lord Featherington, who was engaged in conversation with a group nearby. “It’s just the usual….family matters,” she added, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

I pressed on gently, “Are you sure? I’m here to listen if you need someone to talk to.”

Portia hesitated, her expression momentarily caught between relief and reluctance. “I appreciate that, truly,” she replied, her voice softer now. “But there are things that are best left unsaid, at least for the moment.”

“I can only imagine how demanding it must be,” I said with sincerity. “If you ever feel the need to share, know that I’m here for you.”

I offered a reassuring smile as I glanced at the lively crowd. Anthony and Edwina animatedly conversed with the guests on the boat, their laughter mingling with the gentle lapping of the water. Meanwhile, Lady Bridgerton animatedly engaged with Lady Danbury, her gestures painting the air with warmth and familiarity.

As I absorbed the joyful scene, my gaze fell upon a couple nearby. “Do you see that couple over there?” I asked, gesturing toward a gentleman presenting a lovely bouquet to a lady. Her gaze followed mine, landing on the striking display of red roses he offered.

“Roses often signify love,” I continued, letting the thought linger in the air. “But they represent more than mere romance. They can embody admiration, longing, and even a subtle strength. In the world of perfumery, it’s all about the hue of the petals and the richness of their scent.” I paused, my gaze meeting hers. “The deeper the color, the more profound the sentiment. Yet, it is the fragrance that lingers longest, wouldn’t you agree? It speaks when words fall short.”

With a soft smile gracing my lips, I said, “Maybe someday, if you allow me, I may take you to my hometown. There, I would show you how the fragrance of those flowers lingers far longer than words ever could.” My voice lowered as I looked into her eyes, hoping she might sense the sincerity of my invitation.

For a moment, time seemed to stretch as we held each other’s gaze, her captivating blue eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that drew me in. My heart raced as I let my gaze drift to her lips, the rich shade of red stirring something deep within me, a silent connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

A loud splash echoed through the air, followed by a chorus of gasps and chuckles that pulled us from our shared moment. We both turned to see Anthony and a lord tumble into the lake, splashing water everywhere. I couldn’t help but chuckle, glancing at her just in time to catch her laughter joining mine.

“Well, I have a feeling Lady Bridgerton may need extra hands in helping Anthony,” I said, a playful smile on my lips. Despite wanting to linger in this delightful moment, I knew it was time to rejoin the group. “I’ll see you soon, hopefully.”

“Of course,” she replied, her voice soft yet filled with an unspoken promise. A brief pause lingered between us, and we exchanged a look that felt charged with unexpressed emotions. For just a moment, time seemed to stand still, allowing the weight of our shared laughter and the subtle connection between us to hang in the air.

“Take care, Miss Montgomery,” she added, her eyes holding mine a second longer before I turned to leave, feeling an undeniable tug in my chest. “Call me Y/N,” I replied with a smile, warmth flooding my cheeks.

As I walked away, the warmth of Portia’s gaze clung to my thoughts, momentarily pushing aside the weight of Lord's looming presence. I hoped our paths would cross again soon.

Turning slightly, I caught Portia watching me with a slight smile playing on her lips, and my heart skipped a beat. But as I continued walking, I felt a tug of reality as I spotted the Lord Featherington engaged in conversation with Colin.

With a deep breath, I steeled myself and headed toward Lady Bridgerton to help Anthony, attempting to push aside the unsettling feelings that stirred within me whenever I saw Him near Portia. What was it about that sight that felt so disquieting? I couldn’t quite place why it bothered me so much, but the thought of them together left a lingering unease in my chest.

Authors Notes: I hope you’re having a wonderful day! Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I truly hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to share any suggestions or feedback you may have! Thank you! I'll update as soon as I can.

#lady featherington x reader #bridgerton imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #mini series #portia featherington x reader #portia featherington

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