#you knew you couldn’t hold it all up front for that long if you were gonna survive transplanting yourself like an organ. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

steveslevis · 2 days ago

Text

i love you, it’s ruining my life

azriel x cassian’s sister!reader - part 3 of 3

summary: you finally start to recover from the attack at Windhaven, but struggle with the ghost of your suppressed mating bond.

warnings: mentions of injury and assault self-deprecation, use of painkillers, two idiots in love, lots of angst <3

word count: 9.6k (sowwy <333)

Three weeks, four days and thirteen hours.

That’s how long Azriel stayed away from the House of Wind, from Velaris, to give you space and time to heal.

He would’ve stayed away longer if it hadn’t been for Rhys’ incessant questioning ringing through his mind while he wasted the days training with the soldiers in Windhaven. The soldiers that were left after he and Cassian had banished–or taken care of–the ones who had planned to rebel with Cormac and Balvard.

He would’ve stayed forever in Windhaven, as a punishment to himself for everything he’s put you through by pretending you didn’t even exist for the last four fucking centuries.

But he couldn’t.

Rhys demanded his presence at dinner tonight, telling him that he would have to face this–face you–eventually. Azriel knew that, that he would have to face you. He could handle seeing you again to make sure you were safe once more, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle seeing the fake glare you’d put on at dinner when you looked his way.

Truly, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to be in the same room as you right now, because he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself from telling you to wipe that fake hatred right off your face, from grabbing you by the neck and kissing you in front of everyone, just like he’d wanted to for the last four fucking centuries.

Still, he swallows his feelings and keeps the shadowy wall up around his heart as he heads to the Townhouse, mentally preparing himself to pretend as if he doesn’t know that you, of all people, are his mate.

——————————————————————

Three light knocks on your bedroom door signaled that your brother was on the other side, causing you to hum in response, to which he took as an invitation into the room.

You looked up from your spot on the bed, your thumb wedging between the pages of the book you were immersed in seconds before while you searched for your bookmark that was lost somewhere between your comforter and the fluffy white throw you had laid over your legs.

“You’re disrupting my reading time,” you say to your brother with a glare, finally finding the bookmark you’d been searching for to shove it into your book, “I was just getting to the good part.”

“Well, too bad, your disgusting romance novel can wait.” Cassian says with a grimace, pushing the door open to lean against the frame while glaring back at you, “it’s time for dinner. At the Townhouse.”

A groan falls from your lips at his words, making you shake your head as you toss the book onto the bedside table next to the other books Nesta had lent to you in the last few weeks to keep you from driving yourself insane while bedridden.

“Do I have to?” you say with a frown, forcing your legs over the side of the bed to stand, since you already know the answer to your own question.

Cassian is at your side in an instant as you stand from the bed, making you shoot him another glare when he grabs your forearm to help you up.

“I can stand on my own, y’know.” you snap, shrugging out of his grip as you walk across the room to put on your shoes, “It’s been three, almost four, weeks now for God's sake.”

“Okay, okay fine.” your brother says, throwing his hands up in defeat as you walk across the room with ease. “Just hurry up, we’ll be late if we don’t leave soon.”

You bite your tongue to hold back from throwing another snide remark his way, quickly sliding into the shoes you’d toed off earlier in the day. Dread filled your chest as you turned back to Cassian, slowly realizing that you’d be–well, Cassian would be–flying to the Townhouse for dinner.

The thought of being unable to fly yourself to the home across town makes you feel so empty and detached, like you’re no longer deserving of your spot in the Night court or the Inner Circle. You weren’t sure you could even use your daemati powers anymore to be honest, you’d been so drained mentally and physically that you hadn’t even tried.

You felt so useless and alone and sad and so fucking worthless–

“Hey,” Cassian’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his elbow nudging your forearm lightly as he peers down at you, a smile–one that you can tell is forced–on his face, “you ready?”

You knew he wanted to say more, to tell you to get out of your own head, but held back for the risk of starting an argument. So you only smile up at him and nod, shoving your feelings down as you walk towards the balcony of your room, letting your brother take the lead as he takes to the sky.

The wind against your skin is such a freeing feeling that you nearly forget that your wings aren’t the ones carrying your own body, but Cassians’. The crisp evening air nips at your cheeks as you fly over Velaris, as if the city is welcoming you home after so long stuffed in the House of Wind. A genuine smile crosses your face for a moment during the short flight, heart fluttering as you let the wind welcome you.

The trip is over just as quickly as it started, and you’re being set down on the steps of the Townhouse before you even realize it.

There’s a lone tear trailing down your cheek as Cassian sets you down, causing him to frown at you when he notices.

“Soon, Y/N.” is all he says, smoothing your wind-blown hair down before turning to push the front door open.

Once again you’re forced to push your emotions down, to put on a weak smile as the two of you walk into the Townhouse. You’re greeted in the entryway by Feyre, who hugged you as if she hadn’t seen you in weeks, though she had seen you mere hours ago to drop off your favorite pastries to the House of Wind during breakfast, before pulling you towards the kitchen almost immediately, insisting you come to taste the new wine she’d bought to celebrate with before dinner.

Before you could protest, you find yourself in the kitchen with Mor, Amren, and all three of the Archeron sisters. Mor is the first to wrap you in a hug, a grin spreads across her perfectly red lips as she pulls you in for a gentle hug. Elain follows closely behind Mor, quietly asking how you were feeling as she holds out a plate of fruit for you to choose from as she speaks.

Nesta and Amren sit on the stools on the other side of the kitchen island, both giving you sidelong, but somewhat kind glances as they were deep in conversation. You didn’t take the cold welcome personally, as you and Nesta had become close over the last few weeks in the House of Wind, and Amren was…well, Amren.

Feyre comes up beside you as you chat with Elain, a small and sympathetic smile on her lips as she extends a glass filled with what you can only assume to be faerie wine towards you. Your heart drops as she does, mind immediately thrown back to that moment when you were shoulder-to-shoulder with Cormac, the last time you’d drank wine. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to stomach drinking it again in all honesty. Before you can shake your head in protest, Feyre opens her mouth to speak instead.

“My special faerie wine, just for you.” Feyre says quietly enough for only you to hear, giving you an understanding look as she still extends the glass, “I didn’t think you’d feel up to drinking just yet, but I know how annoyingly incessant the males can be about celebratory drinks, so here,” you take the glass from her hesitantly, giving her a weak smile, “just some sparkling juice, I promise. There’s a whole bottle in there that I already told everyone was just for you.”

You smile at the High Lady, a sparkle of relief lighting your eyes as she reassures you. You had divulged the whole truth to her a week after the incident, letting her see into your mind to understand the extent of the damage that had been done that night in Windhaven, and even divulged a little too much about Azriel in the heat of the moment, too. She had known you felt more comfortable with her than with any man, and in that moment you were grateful Rhys had found an equally skilled mate who could help you when he couldn’t.

“Thank you, Feyre, really, this means a lot to me.” you say genuinely, pulling her back in for another hug, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill at the sentiment.

You cursed yourself for being so emotional lately, but knew there was no stopping the inner turmoil you were dealing with unless you went straight to the source, to Azriel to finally spill your guts, which you knew wasn’t in the cards any time soon.

You spent the next thirty minutes sharing laughs and talking about nothing in particular with Mor and Feyre, only stopping to give Elain input on the new tart she was trying to make for dessert. The empty feeling in your chest from the last three weeks in near solitude was quickly replaced by one of warmth and happiness, finally feeling at home once again in the room full of your favorite females.

It was foolish of you to think the sentiment would last, though. You should’ve known that this wouldn’t be a normal and happy night, that you’d be faced with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You nearly dropped the glass of sparkling juice when you pushed through the kitchen doors and into the dining room, faced with not two, but three Illyrian males at the table. They’re lost in conversation when you and Mor enter, but Azriel’s attention quickly snaps in your direction, eyes widening for such a short moment that you’re unsure if you imagine it or if they actually do. You collect yourself before turning your attention to your brother and Rhys, who both stopped talking to look over at you and the rest of the females walking through the kitchen door.

“Finally done gossiping so we can start dinner?” Rhys suggests as you all begin to take your typical seats at the table, yours being between Cassian and Mor.

Habitual conversations begin as soon as everyone sits down, food soon appearing in front of everyone thanks to Rhys. Things feel relatively normal as you pile the food passed to you onto your own plate, unsure of how much you’ll actually eat of it as your mind wanders back into thoughts of the hazel-eyed, mysterious asshole sitting across the grand table from you.

Every once in a while, you feel his eyes on yours as you pick at your food, as if he’s checking on you. And with every look in your direction, you feel yourself sinking into the chair beneath you, wishing for nothing more than the ability to winnow in that moment.

You felt like you’d fully regressed back to that person you were when you’d just found out Azriel was your mate, the shell of a female that it had made you was once more. You cursed the Gods for making this male have such a strong effect on you, for making you want nothing more than to be with him, to grab him by the neck and kiss him in front of everyone, just like you’d wanted to for your entire life.

But you knew better than that, knew that you had to keep up the act like you hated him as much as he hated you, knew that you would have to wait until that Gods damned bond snapped for him, however long that would take.

So you did what you did best, shooting a glare in his direction the next time you saw him looking your way, in hopes it would keep him from looking your way and make you fall even further into that shell than you already had.

You’d already fallen so deep into that hole during your time at dinner that you barely heard when Nesta said your name, voice sounding like it was coming from miles away.

“Sorry, Nes.” you reply, giving her a sheepish smile, “what’d you say?”

“I asked if you were ready for tomorrow?” she repeated, eyes sharp yet understanding as she looked your way.

“Oh–Yeah!” you say, a laugh falling from your lips, nodding quickly, “Of course, I’m excited to get back out there.”

“Back out where?” Cassian interjected, concern lacing his words as he turned towards you, never stopping his shoveling of the potatoes from his plate into his mouth as he spoke.

“You’re such a pig, finish eating before you talk.” you retort, shoving his shoulder with a disgusted look, “but if you must know, I’m coming to training with the Valkyries tomorrow morning.”

“Training?” your brother says with wide eyes as he drops his fork with a loud clunk onto the plate. “Like hell you are.”

“I am perfectly capable of training again, Cassian.” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him.

He opens his mouth to make another snark, yet protective comment at your words when the world seems to stop for a moment, a humorless laugh coming from the other side of the table, coming from the male who’d been staring at you all night long.

A laugh. He actually fucking laughed at the thought of you training.

Wide eyes from everyone at the table focus on the shadowsinger, the air seems to go still as everyone waits anxiously for the next words.

“Do you have something to say about my training, spymaster?” you nearly snarl at the male who seemed to share an equally annoyed expression with you.

“Like hell you’re perfectly capable.” he says lowly, eyes flickering to your still-healing wings at your back. “You can barely hold your own weight right now, let alone the wings at your back pulling you down and leaving you fucking limping from your back and hip pain. You wouldn’t be able to hold your own training for more than five minutes out there. You’re—You haven’t fucking healed at all. You haven’t been cleared to fly, let alone train in any capacity. It would be so damn foolish to even let you step foot out there.” Nobody dares to interrupt the male as he continues his rant, “I’m sure you’re back on those damn pain killers too, considering you can’t even feel—”

“Azriel—“ Rhys’ voice comes out in a quiet warning as he shoots his brother a glare, knowing exactly where he was going with his next sentence.

Everyone else at the table continues to stare at Azriel, seeing through the facade to see a love-sick and extremely worried male. You, on the other hand can only feel anger radiating off the male, can only feel spiteful words being spewed your way.

“No, Rhys.” you say with a bitter smile, blinking back the tears that are threatening to fall from your shimmering eyes, “let him continue, he obviously knows what’s best for me.”

The table is silent at your watery retort, even the previously fuming Azriel grounded by the tears in your eyes.

It hits him like a wall of bricks then, all the regret he had for the foolish rampage he had begun to slip into. His chest nearly caves in as he takes in the scene in front of him, how broken you looked as stared back at him, he could feel the anger and embarrassment radiating off you.

He opens his mouth to backtrack, to apologize, to take back the venom that just spewed from his lips and toward you, toward his fucking mate. But words fail him now, unsure of how he can make it any better at this moment.

“Tell me, Azriel.” you muse bitterly, “do you think it would just be better for me to follow the true Illyrian customs then? Should I have let Cormac and Balvard clip my wings? Should I have let Ci–”

Now Rhys cuts you off with a warning growl, knowing you were about to expose your tragic past in ways you’d regret as soon as they’d fall from your lips.

“No, no.” Azriel shakes his head rapidly at your words, blinking quickly, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Like hell I did,” you scoff, pushing your chair from the table loudly, tossing your napkin onto the tabletop before excusing yourself.

Azriel knew better than to follow you, knew it wouldn’t end well if he tried to.

You sat on the couch near the fireplace only one room over from everyone, listening to their low conversations. Listening as Cassian scolded Azriel, telling him how stupid he was for trying to push you too soon, and how he needed to give you time and space. The wording of your brother’s scolding confused you slightly, but you didn’t care. You only cared about the hollowness that crept back into your chest, the empty feeling from where you couldn’t feel that unrequited bond anymore, likely from the painkillers that dulled any magic within you. So you let your silent tears flow, let yourself cry over the man who you had convinced yourself could never love you, let yourself drift into a sad sleep on the couch, the warmth of the fireplace inviting you into a dreamless state.

Unsure of how much time had passed, you awoke to the feeling of weight on the other side of the loveseat you sat on and a dark breeze passing over your neck, the caress of a shadow over your skin.

Your eyes flutter open and Azriel’s heart almost breaks at the state of you. Your wings are tucked behind you tightly as if you were ashamed of them, eyes glossy from the remnants of sleep and tears, lips full and red from trying to bite back the sobs that threatened to escape before you let sleep take you in. The look you give him is one of confusion at first, but quickly turns to one of frustration then anger at the sight of the male in front of you.

He tries with everything in himself to reach out to you, to your soul, to tell you he’s there, but he can’t get through that haze in between the two of you put up by those painkiller tonics Madja gave you. She’d explained to him that you wouldn’t know that the bond had snapped for him until you were completely off the tonics, your magic was restored to its full power and he willingly uncovered his side of the bond to you. So he would wait, would try his hardest to befriend you and make you realize that he never hated you until that moment actually comes when you feel the snap.

“Before you try to kill me–and rightfully so–” he starts, pushing his hand out in front of you, holding a plate of the tart Elain had made for dessert out to you, “I come with a peace offering, your favorite.”

You narrow your eyes at him, hesitant to take the plate from him at first. But there’s a pleading and truly apologetic look in his eyes, one that makes you give in almost immediately. You take the plate from him finally, gaining a small smile from the shadowsinger that makes your heart skip a beat, though you don’t let it show.

Azriel watches as you take the first bite wordlessly, watching your features soften as you let out a soft groan, mumbling about how good it is.

“How would you know berries are my favorite?” you question finally, setting the fork back on the plate after another bite.

“You and Cass, you’d always give him your melons and he’d give you his berries at breakfast in Windhaven–” Azriel says, cutting himself off when he sees you wince at the mention of the camp, frowning as he speaks, “s–sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head.

“No–no. I’m sorry, for everything.” he replies, sitting up straighter on the couch to sit face-to-face with you. “For being an ass when you said you work alone, for doubting your abilities, for–for acting like you don’t exist for the last four and a half centuries.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you say with a sad smile, sinking back into the shell of self-doubt you’d grown accustomed to, “I get it, you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“I–That’s anything but true.” Azriel says, shaking his head quickly, the corners of his lips pulling into a frown. “I know I acted like that but–I want to know you. I want to get to know you and be your friend. I just–just never knew how to approach you.”

Truthfully, he wants to say that he never knew how to approach you without giving in to his desires and without telling you how much he needs you in every way, shape and form.

You look up to him, weary eyes meeting his hazel ones in a curious gaze. You’re unsure if you truly believe him or not, but the look in his eyes seems sincere so you stay silent for now, willing him to continue.

“I wanna make it all up to you,” he suggests, gauging your reaction as you continue to eat the tart. “I wanna train you, wanna help you get back to being the warrior that you were before everything happened. I can work with Madja too, to make sure that you’re healing properly and not over-exerting your wings. I can help you–”

“Why would you wanna help me now?” you interject quietly, still not believing that he actually wants to help you after essentially calling you incapable less than an hour ago, “did–did Rhys put you up to this? Did Cassian–”

“No, nobody put me up to this.” Azriel starts, shaking his head quickly, “I shouldn’t have said all those things back there, I was just worried. I don’t want you to get hurt anymore than you already are.”

You stare at the male for a long moment, searching through those amber eyes for any notes of deception but find none. Your heart tugs for his, trying to feel him through the obsidian smoke and gray haze between your souls, but there’s nothing, no tug in return, for now. The logical, and traumatized, part of your brain is screaming at you to run from the Illyrian male in front of you and never look back. But the romantic, and bonded, part of your heart is screaming at you to take anything he’ll give you, to trust him endlessly.

You were never one to listen to logic, anyways.

“Fine.” you say finally, narrowing your eyes at him. “We start tomorrow. If you don’t think it’s good for me to train with the Valkyries yet then I’ll come after they leave in the morning.”

“You’ve got a deal.” Azriel says, smiling wider than you think you’ve ever seen him smile, making your heart flutter as you can’t help but give an equally wide smile in return. “I’ll see you at ten.”

——————————————————————

The late morning sun beat down on you as soon as you stepped foot on the roof of the House of Wind the next morning, dressed in your fighting leathers.

You spot Cassian, Nesta and Azriel across the roof, so deep in conversation that they didn’t notice your arrival.

“Are you ready to get your ass handed to you, Shadowsinger?”

The three turn to you when you speak, the ghost of a smile on Azriel’s lips when he takes you in, taking in your raw beauty as you stand in front of him in your leathers with your beloved sword sheathed at your side, your wings hanging higher than usual as you grin excitedly over at them. Azriel swears his heart skips a beat when he takes it all in, the hope glimmering in your eyes makes him extremely grateful that he decided to shove his feelings aside to help you train.

“Oh, you’re not doing any kind of combat today.” Cassian scoffs at you, as if he’s offended that you’d even think you were going to spar with the Shadowsinger during your training.

Your smile falls as your brother talks down to you, and almost instantly turns into a scowl directed at him.

“You aren’t training me today, so you have no say in what I do and don’t do during this session, asshole.” you snap back as you take one last step to stand in front of Cassian, shoving your finger against his chest pointedly.

There’s an expression you can’t quite read on your brother’s face when you look up at him, but he only ignores your combative response, looking to Azriel instead. He sighs and slaps Azriel’s shoulder before mumbling ‘good luck, brother’ under his breath as he begins to walk away. Before you can question the odd interaction, he and Nesta are already making their way back into the House of Wind. You turn to Azriel then, brows furrowing as you stare at the Shadowsinger. He gives you a sympathetic look then, his eyes softening as he notes the confusion in yours.

“Don’t shoot the messenger here, but I did speak to Madja in order to see what she’s okay with you doing during these training sessions.” he starts, brows knitting together as he tries to think of how to explain the situation. “Long story short, she doesn’t think you’ll be ready for combat or flight for another month or so.”

Your heart sinks to your stomach at his words, disappointment settling in your core as you feel your throat start to constrict and tears prick your eyes. You only shake your head in disbelief, though you know deep down that you’re in no shape to even think about sparring right now, considering your body is running off three and a half hours of sleep and an extreme amount of pain tonics. You’d been telling yourself that you were healing perfectly for the last three weeks, but it truly has been anything but perfect.

Azriel reaches for your elbow with one hand as you take a step back in shock, concern filling his hazel eyes as he watches your internal panic.

“I know that’s not what you wanna hear today, but I promise that it’s for the best. Madja won’t clear you because she knows you have a lot of healing to do before fighting again.” Azriel interjects gently, careful with his words so he doesn’t set you off.

“W��Well, what did she say I could do?” you say quietly as your voice strains, using all your strength to hold back from breaking down in front of him. You don’t have the energy to argue with him about it, to tell him that you’re fine. You want to scream and cry and fight him, but you know it’s no use.

“She suggested that we try some of the exercises that we use during initial flight lessons in the camps, as physical therapy in a way.” he says, and you can tell he doesn’t like the thought of doing that based on the tone of his voice.

“Like–doing the exercises we teach the children when they’re learning how to fly?” you retort, brow furrowed as you mull over the suggestion. “That–That’s ridiculous. I’m five centuries old for fucks sake, I will not be treated like a damn child–”

Your eyes are squeezed shut in frustration as you speak, so you don’t see Azriel’s hands reach up to cup your cheeks, only feel it as you start your angry spiel, but it’s jarring enough to stop you in your tracks. Your eyes fly open at the featherlight touch, looking up to see the Shadowsinger staring at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

“I can’t let you get hurt, I–I can’t let you do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.” he says once he’s got your attention, “You can’t fly right now, you’re still healing. I know Madja has you on bone-mending medications and is giving you tendon repair salve every damn day and I know you should not strain your wings with anything other than light physical therapy right now. I know how much flying means to you and I know you don’t want to be treated like a child but please.” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper as he stares down at you, “Please, just let me help you heal, let me show you that I want to help you and that I’ve never hated you. A–And once you’re healed, once Madja clears you for flight and combat, we will do anything you want.”

There’s a sense of urgency in Azriel’s voice as he pleads his case, his hands firm against your cheeks as he stares down at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen from him before. He looks desperate, broken even. Little do you know, he’s tugging with all his might on his side of the clouded bond, silently hoping that you’ll feel him if he pulls hard enough, though it doesn’t work. You search his eyes for any signs of dishonesty, for any ill intent, but find none, so you sigh.

“Fine,” you finally say, forcing yourself to stay composed in front of the male as you step back and out of his grasp, though the feeling of his touch lingers on your cheeks as though he’s still grazing them. “Let’s get started, then.”

Azriel’s shoulders sag in relief, surprised that you give in without much of a fight. Truthfully, you’re too mentally exhausted to even think about protesting, too tired of being kicked down every time you get your hopes up. So in the moment you choose to lower your expectations and tell yourself that you don’t deserve to fly anymore after being too damn stupid to see the attack coming, that you have to earn your wings back, that you might never earn your wings back if things go poorly.

“Right,” he says with a nod as he stands up a little straighter, trying to stay serious as you look at him expectantly, “we can start with some simple things, like wing-lifts and getting your back and shoulders back into shape with a few different workouts.”

——————————————————————

Your training sessions with Azriel carry on for weeks, spending every single morning together after the Valkyries leave their training sessions. Sometimes you’ll see Gwyn or Emerie with Nesta when you make it up there a little early. There’s always an ache in your chest when you see the females, desperate to get better so you can just fucking train with them finally.

But you push your feelings aside and train with Azriel, pushing yourself past the point that you knew you should, but you couldn’t help it. Azriel always asked if you were okay to train, he genuinely could never tell, since you’d become almost completely unreadable after the incident.

Your body ached after every session, joints sore and wings aching, but you didn’t care. You needed to get better, you needed to get strong again and never let anything or anyone get to you in any way ever again.

Though you were with the shadowsinger every single day, he felt as though he wasn’t making any progress with getting to know you or making you open up to him. His heart ached with longing after every training session, when you’d simply mumble a ‘thanks’ to him and make your way back to your bedroom at the House of Wind. He would try to joke with you, try to make conversation with you, hell, he’d even try to tug on that damn bond as hard as he could, but he could never seem to get through to you. So, he gave you space, gave you time, gave you what he thought you wanted from him instead of what he wanted.

His desires could wait until you were off the pain tonics and could finally feel him reaching out to you.

Since you couldn’t be sent on any missions until you were off the pain tonics that suppressed your daemati skills, you had all the free time in the world. Any time not spent training your body, you spent training your mind. Though you didn’t have the ability to use your powers, you could still waste the days away with your nose buried in books about how to hone your skills and how to strengthen your mental shields.

Everyone in the Inner Circle notices you reverting back to the shell of a person that you were when you initially found out that you were mated to Azriel, but this time was different. You were even quieter, kept to yourself even more, and they could all tell that you beat yourself up over every little thing you’d do wrong. Cassian tried to call you out on it one time when you were in the living room with him, Rhys and Feyre, but soon swore to never mention your new behavior again after you threatened to destroy him with your mind once you were able to use your powers again when he inquired.

The only one who you ever confided in about your self-loathing and hatred was Feyre, she was the only one you felt you could trust enough to talk about everything with, about the mating bond, about the wing-clipping, about it all. She made it a point to check on you almost daily after that, insisting that you spend time with her a few times a week, whether it’s only to sit in silence and read your books together at the River House or to run errands around Velaris. You’re eternally grateful for her being there for you, for her forcing you to leave your bedroom and spend time thinking about anything other than the self-deprecating thoughts you had about yourself.

It’s almost three whole months before Madja clears you to come off your pain tonics, but warns that the first full day off of them will not be completely pain-free.

You heed her warning and tell the Shadowsinger that you won’t be attending training the next morning, in case you’re in excruciating pain. You swear you see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes when you tell him, but the expression is gone before you can question it, and so is he, as he turns on his heels to avoid facing you as his chest aches and his stomach churns at the thought of you possibly not wanting to train with him anymore.

——————————————————————

Azriel is woken from a dead sleep in a cold sweat, shadows skittering nervously around his head as he sits up, an unfamiliar gnawing feeling eating away at his chest.

He looks around, glancing out the window to realize it’s still the middle of the night. He feels it again, that tug in his chest. It’s a feeling of agony and panic, a feeling coming from deep in his soul. It was something he’d never felt before, something so curious that he wasn’t sure how to deal with it, until the shadows came closer to his ears, whispering mate, mate, mate, in his ear.

His heart flutters at the words, hands shaky as he pushes himself up in the bed. It’s the first time since you’d been on those painkillers that he’d been able to actually feel you through, actually reach out for you.

He could tell you weren’t doing well by the tension on the thread between your souls, but he wasn’t sure what to do to help.

In that moment he thanked the Cauldron for fae hearing, because he heard a muffled cry of agony coming from down the hall that once again made his chest ache. Immediately he stands from bed, hastily shoving a sheathed Truth Teller into his sleep pants pocket before making his way out of the bedroom.

It nearly feels like an out-of-body experience as he rushes toward your room, mindlessly opening the door. All he can think about is helping you, making you feel better. He doesn’t even know what’s on the other side of that door, doesn’t know if you actually need help or not, but he’s ready to face whatever it is no questions asked, to help his mate.

You’re laying on your side in the middle of your large bed when he steps in, only the moonlight flooding in from the window lighting your figure underneath the sheets. Your wings flare weakly as you squirm, small cries escaping your lips as your eyes squeeze shut. Azriel can tell you’re sleeping, and likely having an awfully realistic nightmare considering how strongly he could feel you when he woke.

He rushes to the bed, sitting on the edge while reaching for your face. His large hands stroke your cheeks as he tugs for you through the bond, silently attempting to soothe you, willing you to wake from the nightmare.

It takes nearly a minute for you to stop thrashing in his grip, for you to finally come back to consciousness.

You’re clammy when you wake, sweat and tears glistening over your face as your eyes flutter open. Your brow furrows when you look to see who helped you come down from the Gods awful nightmare, and it’s none other than your mate.

Azriel gives you a gentle smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, which are shining with concern as he grasps your cheeks gently.

“There you are,” he says softly, hands finally falling from your face, “I—I wanted to make sure you were okay, heard you from across the hall.”

You stare up at the male before you for a long moment, taking in everything you can about your current situation. Azriel has one hand on your arm and the other next to your side, your faces mere inches from each other from when you sat up slightly in the bed. It’s the closest the two of you had ever been, and it took everything in you to not reach out and touch him to bring him even closer, to kiss him and never let go.

It takes a few moments for you to fully register what’s happening. When you finally do, you sit up and push out of Azriel’s grip, embarrassment flushing through your chest as you stare at him. He stands from the bed as you sit up, something deep within him taking over and telling him you need space, and a glass of water. He knows the bond is directing his every move now, which makes his heart throb against his chest as he turns to your bedside table. There’s a carafe next to your pile of novels, which he takes in his unsteady hands to pour into the accompanying glass.

He’s back to sitting on the edge of the bed in an instant, far enough away to give you space as you catch your breath. You take the glass of water when he offers, taking a long sip before looking back to him. When your gaze slips back to his, you become painfully aware of the very shirtless male in front of you. Your cheeks flush as your mind slips to places it shouldn’t for a millisecond, but you compose yourself quickly when his brow furrows.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he presses, a frown on his lips as he watches you carefully.

“Y–Yeah, I did.” you breathe out, hands shaky as you raise one to run your fingers through your hair. “I guess those tonics were repressing more than just physical pain.”

“You stopped taking the painkillers?” Azriel asks, trying not to sound too excited. “Did you get cleared from Madja? Did she say it was okay?”

You nod once, wondering why he’s so invested in your consumption of pain tonics all of a sudden.

It all makes sense to Azriel then, why he could feel you so intensely after not feeling you through the bond for so long.

A rush of relief mixed with a twinge of terror flows through Azriel when you nod, realizing he has less time to mentally prepare for the truth that the two of you would have to face very soon. But it also means he’ll finally get to breathe around you, finally admit that he knows that you’re his mate, his fated lover.

Deep down, you know it too, but are too scared to admit it at the moment.

So the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, neither sure of what to say to the other. Two cowards in love, two cowards afraid to fess up, two cowards staring the mating bond in the face but choosing to ignore it for the sake of saving their hearts.

The silence between you is too much for Azriel, so he stands from the bed. You look up to him, eyes shining with a look that he can only describe as fearful enough to make him stop in his tracks.

You truly are disappointed when he stands, secretly wishing he’d attempt to coddle you and offer to take care of you. You curse yourself silently for letting yourself feel so much towards him in this vulnerable moment, especially after working so hard to become an emotionless wall of obsidian for the last three months.

“I–I’m sorry for barging in, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” he stammers, watching as his shadows insist on swirling around you in a protective manner insteading of coming back to him. “If you’re really okay, I’ll just go–”

“S–Stay.” you nearly beg, eyes shimmering with tears you didn’t know were there as you stare up at him. His face flares with shock at your words, taken aback by your desperation. “I–I mean, if you don’t mind. I just–just would really appreciate the company.” you continue, feeling pathetic as you try to reel yourself back in mentally before you start sobbing in front of him.

“If you want me to, I can, I’ll keep guard for you if it makes you feel safe.” he says simply, smiling weakly at you.

Azriel is quiet as he walks towards the desk on the other side of your room, pulling the chair to face towards the bed before sitting down. He turns to you to see your brow furrow as he sits, lips pulled into a frown. His gaze softens as you stare at him and you know you look pitiful, but can’t help the way your heart aches for him, the way your body craves his next to yours right now.

“Are you alright?” he questions, frowning back at you as his shadows skitter around your face in an attempt to soothe you.

“Would you–fuck.” you murmur, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Would you want to stay in the bed with me?”

He’s up in an instant, his heart working faster than his mind as he nods at you. Your own heart skips a beat as he glides over to the bed, climbing into the spot that you leave for him. He slips under the covers but sits with his back propped against the pillows, halfway sitting up as one of his wings hovers over you in a protective manner.

You can’t help but give him a watery smile as you inch closer to where he’s sitting, looking up at him as if you’re waiting for permission to approach him. He gives you an inviting smile back, adjusting his arms so you can get as close to him as you want. You’re hesitant at first, but push past your doubts as you lay next to him, your body flush against his side as you lean your head against his warm chest.

You try to go back to sleep, but your body is still tense against his, on edge as the nightmare you just woke up from replays in your head every time you close your eyes. Azriel’s arm relaxes at your back, his hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder gently.

“I’m here,” he says, voice barely above a whisper as he reaches down to wipe a rogue tear that slipped down your cheek. “You can sleep, you’re safe with me.”

That’s all you need to hear for your body to fully relax finally, drifting to sleep as you try not to think about the conversation you’ll have to have with the shadowsinger in the morning.

——————————————————————

Sunlight streams through the large window in your bedroom when you wake, groaning softly as you grab a pillow to cover your eyes and curse yourself internally for forgetting to shut the blinds last night.

It takes a moment for you to realize that your bed is emptier than it was when you fell back asleep last night, the space where the shadowsinger once sat now empty next to you. You sit up in bed when you realize you’re alone, a sinking feeling in your chest as you do.

The sinking feeling is quickly replaced by one of joy when you look to the empty side of the bed and see what he left in his place. There’s a silver tray on the bedside table next to where Azriel slept, and on top of it is a plate with an almond croissant from your favorite bakery and a cup of berries next to a glass of water and the rest of the pills and salves that Madja had you on.

A note sits by the food that reads ‘Gone to train. Didn’t want to wake you, you looked too peaceful. Enjoy.’

You truly don’t stop smiling the entire time you eat, unable to fight the giddiness that you feel from the tiny act of kindness. You read over the note at least ten times, memorizing every swirl and scribble of his writing before starting to get ready for the day.

Though there’s an ache in your wings as you stretch them when getting dressed, just like Madja had warned you about, you realize that you haven’t felt this good in months. Your chest feels lighter, mind clearer, and eyes brighter as you think about your mate.

Mate…Mate…fuck.

Your excited mood sours when you think about the conversation that has yet to be had with Azriel. You’re almost entirely sure that he knows now, considering you’re 99.99% certain you could feel his concern for you striking down the bond last night when you woke from your nightmare.

It takes you longer than it should to get into your leathers, but you’ve decided that you want to train, want to face Azriel this morning, want to see which of you will be the first to break.

The sun feels more intense than normal as you make it to the roof of the House of Wind, just in time to see Azriel, Cassian, and–surprisingly–Rhys stowing their weapons away after wrapping up their own training. It’s well past the time that the Valkyries finish their daily session, so the three of them must’ve wanted to take advantage of you asking for the day off, using the hour to spar with each other instead. They’re all shirtless, likely due to the heat, so your eyes obviously drift directly to your mate as soon as you step foot onto the roof.

He’s facing away from you, so you can see the swirls of his dark tattoos over the expanse of his back and shoulders. There’s sweat beading down his neck and you can see that his hair is slightly damp as he runs his fingers through it. Your mind wanders as you stare at him, wondering what it would be like to dig your fingers into the skin of his back while you’re under–

Your thoughts are interrupted by a lone shadow snaking around your hand as Azriel whips around, looking in your direction likely due to his other shadows alerting him to your presence. He raises a brow when he sees you in your leathers, mouth open as if he’s about to speak as you approach the trio, but he says nothing.

“We thought you were taking the day off today,” Cassian says, stepping in for Azriel as he’s obviously at a loss for words.

“I was supposed to be,” you start, looking down to your side to adjust the sword there as it wobbles in its sheath, “but Madja’s prediction about my pain levels after coming off of the pain tonic were wrong, I’m feeling great this morning. So, I decided to come up and train, with or without a trainer.”

Azriel doesn’t miss the way your eyes glimmer with confidence and hope as you speak to your brother, knowing that he’s not likely to try to argue with you now that you’re cleared to spar and use your powers again. It’s the happiest he’s seen you in months, and it makes his heart swell, accidentally projecting his adoration in your direction. Your smile falters as you feel a tug at your own chest, eyes flicking towards him as your heart lurches.

As the two of you stare at each other with wide eyes, you feel a talon rake down your obsidian mental walls that you’re finally able to put up again.

Are you alright? Rhys questions wordlessly, making you finally break your staring contest with Azriel.

Quite alright. Just ready to spar and have a very serious conversation with a specific shadowsinger, if you don’t mind giving us some privacy. You snap mentally, glaring at Rhys as he smirks at you.

Is it finally happening? He retorts teasingly.

Not if you don’t get out of my head and off this damn roof. You bite back before slamming your mental shields back up, blocking the High Lord from teasing you anymore.

“Well, I don’t have any urgent tasks this morning, so we can continue with training as usual if you’d like.” Azriel suggests, the faintest smile on his lips as he stares at you.

Cassian looks between the two of you for a moment, eyes wide before taking a step back with Rhys, who leads him away before he can ruin the moment for you. He’s probably silently telling your brother what’s about to happen as they walk away, considering you hear Cassian say ‘fucking finally’ as they reach the door.

“That sounds great,” you say finally, smiling at him meekly.

The morning proceeds as usual, but you’re a little more distant than usual, and it definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he’s standing in front of you shirtless as he instructs you how to kick and punch defensively, or the fact that you just felt him tug on the bond. Yeah, it definitely has nothing to do with either of those things.

“You’re distracted.” Azriel says matter-of-factly when you throw a half-assed punch that he easily blocks with his forearm.

“Oh, am I?” you say sarcastically, sweat beading down your forehead as you throw another kick towards the male, though he easily pushes your leg back down.

“Wanna talk about it? Or do you just want to punch it out?” he suggests, raising a brow as you huff in annoyance.

“Just wanna punch it out, can’t–can’t talk about it.” you retort, shaking your head.

You’re terrified to admit what you felt earlier, terrified that he’s going to laugh in your face and tell you that he’d never want you and that you’ve been pining over him to no avail.

“I think you can talk about it. I think you’re just scared,” he taunts, confidence rising in him as he feels your frustration and longing subconsciously projected down the bond.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you pant out, pushing down your feelings as you throw another punch. “You’ll hate me and never talk to me again if I talk about it.”

That’s when Azriel’s face drops, his hand coming up to grasp your wrist when you try to throw one last punch. He feels like he’s just been punched in the gut, like he’s the biggest asshole in the world. You truly think he hates you and that he would never want anything to do with you other than training you and being acquaintances. His heart lurches at the thought, but he keeps his composure as he looks down to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he insists, frowning at you.

Your breath hitches as he maintains his light hold on your wrist, tugging you closer so you’re shielded by his wings from the sun beating down on you.

“You–You don’t get it.” you say, voice barely audible as you fear for the worst.

You tell yourself that he’s going to want nothing to do with you after you finally say what you’ve both been feeling for the last day, that he’s going to reject the bond and never speak to you again. That’s what you’ve told yourself since the day the bond snapped for you all those years ago, so why would it be any different now?

“What don’t I get?” he implores.

He wants you to be the one to admit it, to confirm what he’s been feeling, to confirm that he isn’t delusional. He needs to hear you say it, he feels like he’s going to die if you don’t say it in the next thirty seconds to be honest.

“You can say it, tell me what I don’t get.” he coaxes, eyes glued on yours as you stare at his hand wrapped around your wrist. “I won’t laugh at you.”

You finally look up at him with that, seeing that there’s nothing but serious adoration shining in his eyes as he waits impatiently for you to speak. He’s about to explode if you don’t just fucking admit it.

“I know that you know, Azriel.” you say bluntly, frowning up at him, “I–I know that you know that I’m your Gods-damned mate, and I know that you’ve been ignoring it because you don’t want it to be true. I know you wish that anyone else in this world was your mate–”

Before you can continue your breakdown, you feel two warm hands on your cheeks, pulling you towards the male in front of you. Something wonderful blooms in your chest as he leans down, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. There’s five hundred fucking years of intensity behind that kiss and it almost knocks you off your feet, but Azriel is there to wrap a strong arm around your waist to pull your body flush to his instead.

He doesn’t pull away for a while, savoring the way your lips feel against his as if it’s the last time he’ll ever be able to touch you in his life. It feels so right to be kissing you, like your bodies are made to be flush against each other, like your lips were made to mold to each other’s.

Once he does pull away, there’s a wild look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, one you can only assume is filled with love and satisfaction.

“I don’t know what made you think that I would hate the idea of being your mate, but I’ve been waiting five fucking centuries for this moment right here.” he says against your lips, both of your souls humming with excitement as he pulls you back in for another quick kiss. “It’s a true honor to be your mate, and I promise to make up for every moment of lost time that we had over the last five decades in any way that I can. I promise to keep you safe and never let you feel alone ever again. You’re not getting rid of me for a very long time.”

Relief washes over you at his words, though you’re unable to completely comprehend the fact that he actually wants you back. It’ll come to you eventually, so for now you push the doubt you have away in order to enjoy the moment the two of you are sharing.

“You promise?” you say, eyes shimmering with more tears, thankfully these ones are happy tears for once.

“I promise,” he retorts with a smile, “I promise to give you everything you deserve and more, okay?”

“That sounds perfect to me,” you giggle, reaching up to cup his cheeks gently as he leans into your touch.

He grins and pulls you in for another kiss, this one just as passionate as the last, if not more. You never want him to pull away, never want to forget the feeling of his lips against yours. It feels as though time stops for a moment while the two of you stand there, soaking up all of the love shimmering through the bond between your souls.

“Hey! Finish up your love fest and get your asses inside.” you hear your brother call out from the door to the roof, wondering if he was eavesdropping this entire time, “It’s time to celebrate you two idiots finally admitting what we’ve all been waiting to happen for years.”

Azriel chuckles against your lips one more time before pulling away, placing a kiss on your forehead before reaching for your hand.

“You ready?” he asks gently as you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” you retort, following him inside to begin the rest of your eternal lives, finally together.

tag list: @minaethrym @5onedirection5 @bubybubsters @brieflyclassymortal @fxckmiup @ubigaia @mariahoedt @buttermilktea11 @annaaaaa88 @lilac5ix @mybestfriendmademe @landofpetrichor @lilah-asteria @darlingbravebelle @wingardiumweasley @coolepowersthings @cherry-cin @mendes-bae @thatacotargirl @esposadomd @saltedcoffeescotch @scatteredstardustt @ccacotartoglover @nickishadow139 @hayley-jadee @i-am-infinite @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @acourtofdreamsandshadows @username199945 @b0xerdancer-writes @anuttellaa @azzydaddy @aunicornmademedoit @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @darkbloodsly @anainkandpaper @craigorynotgregory @acourtofmoonlightandstars @sourapplex @thatgirlangelb @405rry @prrius-tylersapphire @rogersbarnesxx @aelincaddel @marina468 @lwyourx @kennedy-brooke @mp-littlebit @sstanbarnes @happypeanutstrawberry @whyshouldihaveanam3 @larissa01-blog2 @superspideyparker @touchstarvedandinlove @cheneyq @pvrkacciosan @savannah-0000 @acourtofbatboydreams @melmo567 @everyonesluvah @theintimatewriter @xtreme-shipper @sunnyspycat @romantasyreader28 @miadialila @anxious-study @justyouraveragekleemain @tee-hee135 @i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @tenshis-cake @rubberducky-jrr @curse-bearing-hips @calisnewworld @freyagallileaevans @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @havenhavoc @actuallyverysoft @fanficscuziranout @bookishbishhh @angelbunny222 @dreamloud4610

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #acotar #azriel x you

350 notes · View notes

monzamash · 3 days ago

Text

★ bargain bin — lewis hamilton

ville d'amour lewis hamilton x you rating — 18+ (sex, coarse language) —requested by anon; "sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and spot them (maybe in vegas??) ps. i love your blog so much!!!"

the city of love.

it had been a dream weekend — every moment laced in adoration and soft touches. that's how it always was with lewis. he treasured you and made sure everything was perfect when he had you alone. you ached for these fleeting moments of serenity, clutching them in your grip for as long as possible, knowing any minute it could be over. —a phone call from his manager bringing you back to reality so you appreciated every second spent with your favourite person in your favourite city.

paris was the place you felt the most alive. the twinkling skyline, the delectable dinners, sprawling cafes that had your name written all over them. you adored the history and tradition of it all, and made sure the city of love lived up to its name. and so did lewis.

“you feel incredible, baby,” he growled into your ear, hips rocking at a languidly gentle pace.

“feels so good, lew…”

you were floating on cloud nine — breathy and covered in a thin layer of sweat. the two of you had been like this for hours, edging and teasing until you begged for him to be inside you. it was almost always like this, lengthy and passionate. sex with lewis was to be savoured like a sweet delicacy.

lewis knew you loved to indulge him by the way you clenched around his girth, fingernails deliciously dragging down his muscular, tattooed back. he was a glorious lover, knowing all your little pressure points. he had a sixth sense about what you liked and how you liked it before you even knew. so when he tortuously pulled out, leaving you empty and pouting, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“up,” he motioned, large hands clutching your tender hips.

it took all of your strength to pull yourself from the cloud-like mattress, doused in pillows and smelling of lewis’ sweet cologne and sex — you wished you could bottle up the scent for those lonely nights. once you found balance, you carefully tiptoed over to where he was waiting, unsteady on your feet but lewis caught you.

“i’ve got you, baby girl. here, hold onto this…” he placed your hand on the shallow sill that lined the large floor to ceiling windows and you gasped at how cold it was to the touch.

outside was a breath-taking view of the eiffel tower, perfectly lit up against the dark, cloudy sky. it stood taller than every other building around it, proudly and stoically. a pillar of culture, a symbol of victory and freedom— the beginning of a new frontier. its symbolism reminded you a lot of the challenges lewis had faced in his career, fighting for what he believed to be important, giving voice to those without one. always staunch in his beliefs, unwavering and kind.

“this view is beautiful,” you murmured as lewis traced his lips across your exposed shoulders and neck, admiring the beauty right in front of him while you looked beyond the horizon.

“you’re beautiful,” he whispered in return, “every time you see the eiffel tower, i want you to think about how good i'm about to make you feel right now.”

a surge of excitement shot down your spine at his promise as he reached around and softly stroked your swollen clit, warming you up again. you could feel his thick cock brushing against your ass, hard and no doubt pulsating at the thought of fucking you against this window, so exposed and on display. lewis loved the idea of people watching, his exhibitionist streak showing its hand early in your relationship.

“need you inside me again, baby,” you moaned and reached around for him, but before you could make a move, your hands were pinned to the window pane.

lewis shuffled your body forward until your breasts were pressed firmly against the glass —the chill from the cool night caressed your nipples and sent a wave of pleasure to your core. he kicked your feet apart slightly and spread your cheeks before sending a long string of spit down your backside and slipping into your warmth.

“fuuuuck,” you groaned, forehead dipping against the window from the fullness.

“need everyone to see how fucking sexy you look when you come all over my cock —need it so, so bad,” lewis panted almost desperately, eyes narrowed and focused on the way his cock disappeared into your slick hole.

“fuck me harder…” you softly whimpered, fingertips white from the pressure placed against the glass.

you could hear the devilish chuckle from the beautiful man serving you insurmountable pleasure on a silver platter, “better hold on then, baby girl.”

a/n — was going to post this tomorrow morning but fuck itttt! can't believe this is my first time writing for lewis, i enjoyed it so much!

shop the sale event here #end of (f1) season sale!! —see what other customers are buying ✨

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 smut #f1 image #f1 writing #formula 1 imagine #end of (f1) season sale!!#monzamashmasterlist

322 notes · View notes

iichfilwypj · 2 days ago

Text

loved | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of ares! reader ღ warnings: hurt/comfort! (for the ones that are so so angry) ღ wc: 720 this is clearly about me guys

“Percy, you don’t understand!”

Her shouts shattered the silence of the forest; the birds seemed to have fled the moment they arrived, and the forest nymphs hid within their trees, unwilling to get involved.

“You’re right!” His voice was edged with frustration and anger as he followed her, but instead of looking threatening, he looked almost pitiable. "I don’t!"

There was a raw, painful gleam in his eyes, one she chose to ignore -although it proved her point.

“Why can’t you talk to me? Tell me what is wrong, please.” He begged. “I love you.”

No.

Not those words.

They were precisely the ones she didn’t want to hear.

The weight they pressed onto her chest was overwhelming, and she didn’t think she could bear it any longer.

He was the sweetest and kindest boy in camp, effortlessly funny and charming with everyone –how could someone like him love someone like her?

“That’s the thing.” Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, crescent-shaped marks forming in her palms. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stopped to turn toward him. “You can’t love me!”

And he flinched. He fucking flinched at her.

But she didn’t care.

“I’m mean! I’m mean, and violent, and aggressive. I’m insecure, quiet, narcissistic. I have anger issues, stupids outbursts, I curse all the fucking the time! I’m not-” She took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger boiling inside her.

She was unlovable.

“Percy, I can’t make you happy. I don’t know how you expect this-” She gestured toward the space between them, which seemed to close with each tentative step he took. “-to work, I am not good for y-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Now it was her turn to flinch as he stepped closer, his hands gripping her shoulders firmly.

He was staring into her eyes as if he could see right through her, peeling back her defenses to uncover the truth she kept hidden –something she sensed he had been doing for far too long.

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me or not.”

She could only stay silent.

What else could she do with that sight in front of her? A sight that wasn’t made for her, that felt so foreign for her.

Those green eyes looked at her with a love she was sure she didn’t deserve, and those hands brushed against her skin as if they could see something good within her that she had buried.

“I know you, and I know how you feel. Like you don’t deserve the good things that happen to you, like you’re not good enough, like you’re a burden in everyone else’s life." One of his hands moved to cup her cheek. "Like you are a bad person.”

She almost laughed; well, he was really laying bare her entire life with his words.

“I don’t know who made you think all of that, but please, I’m begging you, don’t believe them.”

“That's the thing,” Percy leaned closer to her to show he was paying attention, but it was almost impossible to get any closer. “No one said anything; I just know it.”

As she closed her eyes, he observed her. Before him stood his favorite person in the world, unraveling before his eyes.

And he couldn’t stand to see it happen.

“You are the purest person in the whole world. From the first moment I saw you, I was wrapped around your finger. My mother is tired of hearing your name, my room is fed up with me sprawled out, holding your photo, and my mind is consumed by thoughts of you –there is no space for anything else. ”

The words flowed from his lips as if they were the most natural thing in the world, and the effect they had on her was overwhelming.

She felt the boy’s hands on her face, gently wiping away the tears she didn't know were there –he knew how much she hated being seen while crying.

When she finally dared to open her eyes, something clicked inside her as she was met with the prettiest shade of green.

She had never felt this way in her life, so free, so safe.

And despite the fear swirling within her, she wanted to try –to try with him.

“You are not mean, you are not a bad person, you are not something that is wrong."

His hands were so, so soft on her cheeks that she could've died.

But she didn't; she felt more alive than ever.

"You live, you act and you feel so, so much. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved, you have to be you. That would be enough for me.” She smiled at him, momentarily at a loss for words.

In response, she leaned in closer, pressing a soft, salty kiss to his lips.

And she felt like she deserved it, like it was meant to happen. And maybe it was.

She felt so, so loved.

hi!! this is how i feel daily lately and i am so scared of telling someone! but i hope you like it!

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #pjo x reader #percy jackson x you #fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson imagines

151 notes · View notes

albertstrustie · 2 days ago

Text

Another Simon/Ghost fanfic piece. Hope you like it. A bit of a long read.

—

Your heels clacked against the cement stairs of the porch, the sound bouncing off into the clear night. You didn’t even wait for the Escalade to stop completely before flinging the door open and storming out. Behind you, Simon didn’t bother turning off the headlights or rolling up the windows—he threw the car into park and dashed after you. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. If you did, who knows what else you’d do.

His footsteps pounded against the ground behind you, matching his labored breathing as you fumbled with the keys at the front door. Your hands trembled—not just with anger but fear. You’d never seen Simon this furious. The sharp scrape of metal finally met the lock, and you twisted it just as his heavy steps reached the porch.

You shoved the door open and bolted inside, slamming it behind you. The solid thud should’ve been a reprieve, but it wasn’t. His broad arm shot through the gap, wedging the door open with infuriating ease. The force jarred you, but you didn’t look back. You were already sprinting up the stairs, your heart racing faster than your feet as his relentless pursuit followed.

The bedroom door slammed shut an instant before his footsteps thundered up the staircase. It burst open just as violently, the wood splintering against the wall. You tried not to flinch. You stayed rooted in front of the dressing table, staring into the mirror as your chest heaved.

There he was, reflected back at you—Ghost. Sweaty, flushed, chest heaving with frustration. The green irises you knew so well were nearly black, like a storm rolling over an open field, swallowing every trace of light. He’d never been in your room before. The sight of him here, invading your most intimate space, felt like a violation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to leave. Not now when he looked like he was about to rip you to shreds.

He rounded the bed in three swift strides, gripping your arm and yanking you around to face him. “What the hell was that?”

You shoved at his face, a desperate, reckless attempt to create space between you. It was bold—perhaps foolish—but anything less would have been futile against his unyielding strength. His grip didn’t waver, though a low, menacing growl rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating through the air like a warning.

For a tense, electric moment, you thought he wouldn’t let go, that his hold on you would tighten until you broke. But then, with a sharp exhale, his grip loosened, and his hands fell to his sides. He took a step back, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he dragged air into his lungs. The distance between you should have felt like a victory, but all you felt was an aching void.

The fight drained from you, leaving behind only exhaustion. Nothing about tonight made sense—not the mission, not Simon, and definitely not the decision you’d made.

That decision being the kiss.

The memory burned hot, searing through you like a brand. Kissing your fake bodyguard in the middle of an undercover operation wasn’t just careless; it was insane. But watching that spoiled socialite touch him—leaning in too close, her ruby, plump lips brushing his ear as she whispered—had been unbearable. And the way Simon smiled back at her, charming and unreadable, made you snap.

Simon? Smiling? Absolutely not.

You didn’t care if it was part of the mission.

You didn’t care that you’d made a scene. All you cared about was erasing that smile and replacing it with something real. And in the moment, the only thing you could think to do was grab his face and kiss him like your life depended on it.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, he kissed you back. But then, it came to an end, just as quickly as it began. So you ran towards the exit, shaken up and utterly mortified.

Now, in the suffocating silence of your bedroom, there was no escape and Simon was a storm barely contained, his body vibrating with restrained anger. But you knew, he wanted that kiss just as much as you did; you could see it right now, the way his chest heaved and his fists clenched at his sides as if to restrain himself from touching you.

His whole body was taut, strung tight like a bow. And the adrenaline coursing through you, made you feel like a live wire, sparking and crackling with need. “Answer me!” he bellowed, his voice thunderous. “Why in the fuck would you—”

Something knocked the sense put of you again and you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him again, pouring every ounce of anger, frustration, and longing into it. There was no hesitation this time. Simon’s hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth claimed yours, hard and hungry.

His lips were hot, insistent, and demanding, a perfect mirror of the fire burning in your chest. He kissed you like he wanted to devour you, and you let him, your hands tangling in his hair as you backed toward the bed. When your knees hit the edge, you fell, but Simon caught himself, landing on his palms above you.

He hovered for a moment, staring down at you, his pupils blown wide and his breath ragged. You thought he might stop—that the realization of what was happening would bring him back to his senses. But then his mouth was on yours again, urgent and consuming, and every coherent thought fled.

You arched into him, your dress riding up your thighs as his weight pressed you into the mattress. His hands roamed over your body, rough and searching, tracing every curve like he was committing you to memory. When his hips ground against yours, the hard line of his cock pressing into your core, you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“Simon,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. His mouth moved to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You tilted your head back, giving him access, your fingers threading through his hair as a low moan escaped your lips.

It was too much, but not nearly enough.

Your legs wrapped around his hips tighter, locking him in place, and your arms clutched him even tighter, anchoring yourself to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from unraveling. You didn’t care about the way his heavy weight pressed you into the mattress, the way his fingers gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise. You didn’t care about the small gasps escaping your lips every time he ground against you, or the burning heat building between your bodies.

You couldn’t care—not when he felt like this.

One of his hands slid from your hip to your chest, his palm sweeping over the curve of your breast. He cupped it through your dress, his thumb brushing over the peak before squeezing. A deep groan tore from his throat as he pulled back, staring at you with an expression that bordered on disbelief, as if he couldn’t fathom that this moment was real.

Then, with a feral growl, he grabbed the front of your dress and ripped it open. The sound of tearing fabric filled the room, leaving you breathless and exposed, your lace bra bared to him. Maybe another time you would’ve teased that he could’ve simply pulled down the absurdly expensive dress, but now was definitely not the time.

The sharp sound of the fabric tearing made your heart stutter, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But it wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t regret. It was everything—every emotion you couldn’t name threatening to spill over. Maybe you too couldn’t believe this was happening.

You barely noticed his fingers deftly working at the clasp of your bra, too caught in the way he looked at you, like a starving man about to devour his first ever meal. By the time you realized it, the bra was already unhooked, sliding from your body before being tossed carelessly to the floor.

His mouth found your nipple, sucking hard as his tongue swirled over the sensitive peak. The sharp jolt of pleasure tore through you, and you cried out, your back arching as heat coursed through your veins.

It felt like you were being touched for the first time, as if virginity had been restored and this was your initiation. Every nerve in your body was alive, your skin burning beneath his touch. His tongue scorched, his fingers left electric trails wherever they wandered. You were ablaze, consumed entirely by him.

He shifted to your other breast, dragging his tongue in a slow, teasing stripe along the underside before sucking the other nipple into his mouth. His hands gripped your waist with bruising intensity, anchoring you in place as his hips ground against yours. Words dissolved on your tongue, replaced by gasps and moans that spilled from your lips, raw and unrestrained.

For once, there was no mask, no performance—only you, stripped bare in every sense of the word. It had never been like this before, it’s never been this overwhelming. Your body wasn’t yours anymore; it was his, and in this moment, the world narrowed down to Simon.

One hand slid lower, cupping your pussy, a groan rumbling from his chest. "You're so fucking wet," he muttered against your breast, his voice rough and gravelly.

His fingers pressed against your soaked panties, the damp fabric only amplifying the friction as he rubbed slow circles over your throbbing core. The sensation made you want to cry out and were about to ground yourself against him—but he didn’t give you the chance.

With a sharp pull, he tore away the rest of your ruined fabric of your dress, stripping the first barrier from your skin. The shredded remnants joined the growing pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

His eyes dropped to your panties, a pathetic scrap of lace that barely concealed anything. His breathing stumbled as he grabbed them and ripped them clean off with a swift, brutal tug. The motion lifted your hips off the bed before your back fell against the mattress once more, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

You should have felt exposed, vulnerable—but instead, you were nothing but raw, aching need. Seeing his eyes darken as he took in every inch of you, his gaze hungry and possessive, only made you feel more alive. You couldn’t be happier to be rid of those scraps of fabric, nude and aching beneath him, ready for whatever came next.

A shiver ran down your spine, a chill spreading over your overheated skin as his calloused hands roamed over your bare ass and thighs. He was so strong, his hands so sure and confident. You wondered if this was simply who he was—if he’s always been this commanding, this powerful—or if it was just you, the way your body reacted to him, helpless against the pull.

A small part of you tried to rationalize it, telling yourself it was proximity, nothing more. Working with him, being forced into close contact and moments of manufactured intimacy for the sake of the mission—surely that was why you felt this way. Why your pulse raced at his touch.

But deep down, you knew that was a lie.

This wasn’t just circumstance. From the very first day, when he’d drawled, “Simon Riley” in that thick Mancunian accent, your thighs had clenched, and a heat you couldn’t ignore had bloomed inside you. You’d wondered then—against all reason—what he looked like naked, what it would feel like to have those strong, capable hands on your body.

And now you knew.

Your head was a muddle of lust and want and for a brief moment, a flicker of shame tried to surface. Simon had never seen you like this; he hadn’t even seen you in a bikini—but it vanished the second his mouth descended on you. His tongue slid through your folds, burying itself in your heat, and all you could think about was how good he made you feel.

Nothing else mattered. Not the mission, not your pride, not the fact that this was Simon. All that existed was the relentless pleasure, the way his tongue moved against you, the way he made you burn hotter and brighter than you ever thought possible.

You were lost in a haze of ecstasy, your hands gripping his hair and shoulders as if they were the only things tethering you to reality. His mouth worked relentlessly, driving you closer and closer to the edge. When he groaned against your clit, the vibrations shot through your body, making you writhe beneath him.

This wasn’t his first time doing this—you weren’t naive enough to think otherwise—but the thought barely registered amidst the tidal wave of pleasure crashing through you. Any pang of jealousy or anger was drowned out by the sobs of ecstasy spilling from your lips.

His tongue flicked your clit with quick, precise strokes, each one sending a fresh jolt of electricity through your core. Your body bowed, and you gasped as he slid a finger into your tight heat, the sudden fill making your walls flutter around him.

He moved with purpose, his finger curling to find that spot deep inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. His tongue never faltered, his rhythm relentless as he coaxed you higher.

When he added another finger, the stretch was overwhelming, teetering on the edge of too much and not enough all at once. You bucked against him, desperate to take him deeper, to feel more, but he growled—a low warning that sent a thrill through you. His free hand stayed flat against your abdomen, holding you firmly in place.

Your orgasm hit you like a lightning strike. It ripped through you, white-hot and paralysing, leaving your body trembling and your pussy clenching around his fingers. Your cries filled the room as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you utterly undone.

But he didn’t give you time to recover. Before you could even catch your breath, he had you on all fours, his strong hand wrapping around your hair as he positioned himself behind you.

You felt him line up, the thick head of his cock brushing against your dripping, throbbing cunt. You were desperate for him, aching to feel him stretch you, fill you, bury himself so deeply inside you that there would be no space left between you.

His grip on your untamed curls tightened, his breathing heavy and uneven as he held himself steady. You braced yourself for that blinding pain right before the pleasure you knew only him could probably give you.

But then his grip on you loosened, and his fingers came around to brush against your cheek in the softest, most unexpected caress. The tenderness of the gesture sent a jolt through you, stealing your breath and making your heart clench.

“I... don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice rough but laced with a vulnerability that cut through the haze of desire. It was as though the shame you tried so hard to bury was something he could see, something he couldn’t ignore.

You tipped your forehead into your forearms, overwhelmed by the quiet sincerity in his words and the unspoken emotions behind them. Your heart swelled, the feeling both exhilarating and terrifying, but the ache inside you demanded more.

“Please!” you choked out, slamming your palm onto the mattress in desperation. “Please, Simon. Fuck me. I need you!” Your shoulders shook with sobs, your voice thick with a pathetic need you could no longer hide.

A beat passed—a moment stretched taut with anticipation—and then he drove into you. One powerful thrust and his cock stretched you, filled you so perfectly, so completely, that the breath was punched from your lungs and you jolted forward, burying your face in the pillows.

Your body welcomed him eagerly, your walls clamped around his thick length as they adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. The scream that tore from your throat was muffled by the fluff of the pillows, but it couldn’t drown out his groan as you pushed back and buried him to the hilt.

The pressure was maddening, the fullness dizzying. Rocking back against him, you met his thrusts, your movements frantic and unrestrained. His fingers dug into your hips with bruising force, holding you steady as he matched your pace.

The room was heavy with the scent of sex, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin filling the air alongside the creak and squeak of the bed frame straining beneath you. His chest brushed against your back as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, his voice dark and laced with hunger. “Me, fucking you like this?”

Words failed you, dissolving into desperate, incoherent whimpers as his pace increased and his palms kneaded your breasts. His cock pistoned in and out of you, the friction stoking the fire inside you until it consumed everything else. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, driving you mad with the sheer intensity of it all.

Like everything between you two, this felt like a challenge—a battle of wills wrapped in pleasure. You knew it was his competitive streak, the need to make you come faster, harder than before. There was no question he would win, but some part of you still wanted to hold out, to last just a little longer than the first shattering orgasm he pulled from you.

But Simon didn’t make it easy.

He fucked you with a savage, unrelenting intensity, his cock hitting every spongy spot inside you. His hips slammed against your ass, his hands gripping you so firmly it felt like his touch had become a part of you, like there was no line where his skin ended and yours began.

You were a mess—sweaty, writhing, utterly undone by his body. Your walls clenched, squeezing him so tight it bordered on painful. But the sting only added to the pleasure, making you feel like you were coming apart at the seams.

You tried to push back against the inevitable, to delay the explosion building inside you, but it was useless. He was everywhere—in you, around you, overwhelming you with his presence until there was no escape. The pressure inside you reached a breaking point, unbearable yet exquisite, until it finally snapped.

The tidal wave of pleasure crashed over you, drowning you in its force, washing away every shred of control. You cried out, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a plea, a desperate, breathless surrender.

In a second, Simon reduced you to nothing more than trembling limbs and shaky breaths, a heap of bone and flesh barely clinging to coherence. If his arm hadn’t wrapped securely around your middle, you would have collapsed into the sheets, maybe even rolled off the bed entirely.

His hold steadied you, grounding you as he continued to thrust into your overstimulated, quivering cunt. Your nails clawed at the sheets beneath you, twisting the fabric in your grip as the waves of ecstasy refused to ebb.

“There you go, baby. That’s it,” he murmured, his voice husky and thick with satisfaction.

Oh, how you wish you could say something snarky right now! But you couldn’t. Not when your legs shook uncontrollably, your heart raced like it might burst, and your lungs burned for air.

All you could focus on was him—the man who had infuriated and fascinated you in equal measure. The man you’d secretly wanted all along, even when you were trading sharp insults and cold glares. Every mission, every conversation, every moment of tension between you had led to this.

To this blinding flash of euphoria that obliterated your vision, to this moment where your mind went completely blank. For a brief, exquisite second, it felt like you’d died and been reborn, baptized in the overwhelming ecstasy that coursed through your veins.

As your vision returned and the last waves of pleasure ebbed, Simon pulled out, leaving you empty and aching. The absence was startling, a void you felt deep in your core. His hands gripped your hips gently, flipping you onto your back as if you weighed nothing.

Before you could figure out what was happening, his lips were on yours, crashing into you with a wild, ferocious passion, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. His hands interlocked with yours above your head and his cock found its home again, sliding into your slick heat as if he’d been moulded just for you.

And if you were being honest with yourself, he probably was made for you.

Because up until now, sex was nothing but something transactional, a means to an end. It had never felt like this. Like the whole world was spinning out of control, and the only thing keeping you from falling apart was his touch, his lips, his body. Like you would die if he stopped kissing you, if his breath stopped caressing your skin.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he pushed into you again. His thrusts were slower this time, deep and measured, as if he was savouring every second. His hands came down to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your damp cheeks softly, revealing a side of Simon you never imagined you’d witness.

But here he was. Here you two were. Naked, unguarded, lost in the depths of something far more dangerous than lust. And you wanted it. You needed it, damn it.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breaths coming in heavy, ragged pants. The space between you all but vanished, and you stared into his eyes, your heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. His gaze pinned you in place—intense as ever, but now tinged with a tenderness that shattered whatever fragile wall you’d been clinging to.

The dam broke, and the tears fell freely.

Simon leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth in a feather-light kiss that travelled all across your face. The gesture was so gentle, so intentional, it nearly undid you all over again.

His hips faltered, his rhythm stumbling, and then he was gathering you into his arms. He pressed himself tightly against you, his weight grounding you in a way that felt like safety and surrender all at once. His face buried in the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and uneven against your skin.

You clung to him, your bodies entwined so completely that you wondered how you’d ever untangle yourself. Your fingers threaded through his damp tendrils as he began to let go. “Baby…” he grunted, his voice low and strained—a question for permission.

“I’m on the pill,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Do it. Please.”

A guttural groan rumbled through his chest, and his hips snapped into yours, his rhythm quickening with a newfound urgency. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your cries against his slick skin. He smelled of salt and sweat, musk and wind, a scent that reminded you of the ocean crashing against the shore.

Then, all at once, he shattered. His body stiffened, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he spilled himself, marking you as his. Your name fell from his lips in a broken mantra, each syllable reverberating through your very soul. You realized, in that moment, how beautiful your name sounded when it came from him.

His weight collapsed onto you, his chest rising and falling against yours as he fought to catch his breath. His lips brushed the hollow of your throat in a lingering caress, and you ran your fingers through his hair, pressing your lips to his damp forehead. He nuzzled into your neck, the scratch of his beard sending shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips.

A quiet contentment settled over you, the silence heavy with meaning. There was nothing to say, nothing to explain. You simply lay there, wrapped in each other, your bodies tangled like you belonged this way.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, breaking the stillness.

He groaned, shifting the both of you under the sheets, his strength effortless as he moved. When he slipped out of you in the process, you felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by the warm, comforting weight of his arms wrapping around you. He pulled you into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Don’t be,” he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and sincerity. “It was the best fuck-up you’ve ever done.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, muffled against his chest. He chuckled softly in return, the vibrations soothing in their intimacy. His hand traced lazy patterns down your spine, anchoring you to him.

“Together,” he murmured, his voice dipping as sleep began to claim him.

You wanted to ask what he meant, but before you could, he repeated it, this time more assured. “We’re together.”

And in those two words, you understood everything.

“Together,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering shut as his warmth enveloped you.

Safe in his arms, you let sleep pull you under, carrying you into a dreamless, contented oblivion.

107 notes · View notes

faithshouseofchaos · 1 day ago

Text

Leaving it all Behind (LIAB)

It the simple things that keep me going— Max verstappen x reader

Word count —

Fluff— 798

In the years following their escape from the shadows of Max’s past, Max and Y/N’s life settled into a steady rhythm. Each day was filled with little routines that, to anyone else, might seem ordinary but, for them, felt extraordinary—a hard-won peace that neither of them took for granted.

After dropping the kids off at school one crisp autumn morning, Max walked back to the house, where Y/N was waiting on the porch, cradling a warm mug of coffee. She smiled as he approached, and he felt his heart warm, just as it always did when he saw her, as if the months together hadn’t dulled the spark between them but deepened it.

He joined her on the porch, accepting the cup she handed him. They sat in companionable silence, watching the leaves fall around them, the trees lining their quiet street painted in vibrant reds and yellows. Max looked at her, taking in the way the sunlight caught in her hair, her peaceful expression. After so many years spent guarding his heart and soul, loving her felt like breathing—effortless, grounding.

After a while, Y/N broke the silence. “Do you ever miss it?” she asked, glancing at him with a knowing smile. She didn’t mean the violence, of course. It was the thrill, the edge that had once been his life.

Max chuckled softly, setting his cup down and turning toward her. “Not a bit,” he replied, and it was the truth. “There was a time I thought that life was all I had. But now?” He reached over, lacing his fingers with hers. “I can’t imagine anything more thrilling than this.”

The days stretched into a gentle routine, and as Max grew his small garage business, he found a different kind of pride in his work. He no longer fixed cars out of necessity or as a front; he did it because he loved it. The regulars knew him by name, the locals treated him like a friend, and he felt—finally—like he belonged somewhere.

One night, after the kids were tucked into bed, Max and Y/N found themselves alone in the quiet warmth of their living room. The house was filled with the smell of apple-scented candles, and soft music played from an old radio in the corner. They danced slowly, swaying together in the dim light, moving in sync with an ease born from years of understanding.

Max rested his chin on the top of Y/N’s head, his arms wrapped around her waist, their movements unhurried. “Thank you for sticking by me,” he murmured, his voice soft. “For believing I could be more than what I was.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “Max, you were always more. You just had to see it for yourself.”

They stayed like that for a long while, simply holding each other, their breaths in harmony. Max knew they’d faced battles, they’d both endured scars, and though life would have its difficulties, they would face them together, hand in hand.

Sunday afternoons became family days—a tradition they’d started soon after settling down. They’d pack a picnic, drive out to the countryside, and spend the day outdoors. Max would chase the kids through fields of wildflowers, their laughter echoing across the open landscape, while Y/N watched with a smile that was equal parts amusement and love.

One sunny afternoon, as Max helped their youngest, a toddler with Max’s own dark hair and Y/N’s bright eyes, try to climb up a small hill, he heard Y/N call from the blanket where she was laying out lunch.

“Max! You’re supposed to help him, not hold him back!” she laughed, teasing him.

Max grinned, his gaze flickering between his wife and their son. “Hey, he’s gotta earn it, just like his dad did,” he said, giving her a wink before lifting their son up and twirling him in the air, the boy’s laughter filling the air.

They’d sit down to eat together, Max leaning back on his hands, watching his family with a contentment he couldn’t have imagined in his old life. Every laugh, every small moment they shared, felt like a promise kept.

Y/N reached over, touching his hand gently. “Look at us,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We made it, Max.”

Max nodded, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Yeah. And we’re not looking back.”

As the sun began to set, casting golden light over the fields, Max took one last look at his family, grateful beyond words. They had fought hard for this life, and he would protect it with everything he had. For the first time, he felt he could truly leave the past behind, ready to embrace the future they’d built together.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #formula one x oc #formula one x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen one shot

65 notes · View notes

jaegeraether · 2 days ago

Text

Sunsets and footballers (Part 99)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (75) / Alexia Putellas x Character (51) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (28)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((5k))

Apologies for the delay. Appreciate you all!

ALEXIA POV

Everything faded around her. She couldn’t see anything but Ridley’s limp body lying several metres away. She didn’t care about a gun. About the security fighting the man into restraint. Into Blau crying out, or Lucy yelling.

There was only her.

She felt herself moving, scrambling over anything and everything to get to her.

Please no. Please. Please!

Her vision blurred with tears.

Please. Anyone but Ridley. I can’t-

Ridley had collapsed face down, the bloodied side of her face hidden against the floor, though the amount of blood was confronting.

“Lee? R…Ridley?” She managed to stutter out as she arrived at her. She patted over her still warm back as if to wake her. Ridley didn’t so much as flinch. The tears were falling in streams now. She slid her hand up her back like she had the night before, her fingers tangling themselves into the soft hair at the nape of her neck. The hair that was getting too long. Alexia knew it’d been annoying her, and was going to insist after the event that she cut it for her.

“Please no..” she sobbed, leaning down to press her lips to her exposed cheek. There were more gunshots. More shouting. Loud, banging noises. She ignored them all. “Lee, please wake up. I need you.” She cried against her soft skin, and then even quieter she made her admission. “I can’t live in a world without you in it.”

“Lucy!” Blau yelled through the haze of grief.

Two strong arms wrapped around Alexia and dragged her back against her will. Away from Ridley. She fought against the arms, shooting her hands and elbows back and hearing a grunt. She protested in a scream as she watched Ridley getting further away from her.

She felt the person holding her hit the wall, but hold on strong. She hadn’t taken her eyes off her, just waiting for the slightest form of movement… anything. Anything at all. And suddenly a figure stepped across to block her view. He crouched down directly in front of her, studying her face with hatred in his eyes. She watched his mouth move and as he spoke an unrecognisable language. His eyes flickered to Blau and back, his finger pointing them both out to the four others.

She had no doubt in her mind who this was.

But, given the circumstances, she couldn’t seem to care.

Instead, she found herself staring through Bashir, trying to see the body of her girlfriend.

RIDLEY POV

Ridley sucked the sweetness from the pineapple while she waited for the English and Spanish games to download. She knew Alexia had been thinking about them, though she’d never complain, and Ridley was excited to see her reaction when she brought it to her.

Alexia’s smile could light up the world.

“He’s smarter than his father.” Duce said, snapping her from her thoughts.

“You don’t think he’ll take the bait?”

“It is very well-hidden bait,” she murmured. “I think it’s 50/50. We don’t know enough about him. From what I do know, there’s a chance he does something else entirely.”

“Like attack us before.” Ridley said, echoing the thoughts of the group.

“That’s an option. Otherwise he’ll watch from afar to see if it’s bait, and get us as we exit.” Fuzzy suggested.

“Or go for Alexia.” Becks murmured quietly. Ridley twitched.

“It’s not unrealistic.” Duce supported. “By now he’s realised that you’re keeping her safe. That means she’s the most important person in your life.”

“Blue-”

“Blue isn’t the one you’ve flown to hide away. In reality, he’ll want Blue and Alexia in the same place. Limit exposure.”

Silence while they thought.

“So,” Wombat said, serious for once, “it’s just a matter of – will he go after Ridley, or after them?”

Ridley landed as the sun was just rising high enough to clear the cliffs. She taxied in, her heart calming at the sight on Alexia and Chiquito waiting for her on the shore, kicking around her football.

She quickly hooked up to the buoy and drove the dinghy across to land. A football flew at her just as she’d dragged it up, and she’d managed a nice touch, kicking it straight back.

Still thinking about her conversation with the team, she walked over, took Alexia by the waist and kissed her as if it were the last time.

JORDAN POV

Jordan gripped tightly onto Leah’s shirt. Even with Leah’s back pressed up against Jordan’s front, her arms extended to physically protect her, she didn’t feel safe. One bullet would tear through them both.

Like it had to Ridley.

She couldn’t look at her body on the floor when it had dropped, because she hadn’t wanted to know. But Alexia’s screams were something straight from a horror film. They sent bone-chilling shivers through her body that she hadn’t been able to stop since.

She tightened her grip on Leah.

Alexia scrambled forwards amongst the chaos and landed somewhere near Ridley.

The two security guards held the man down, attempting to restrain him again.

Jordan looked everywhere but her body.

She looked over at Katie’s body in front of Caitlin’s, not dissimilar to Leah.

The Lumos workers shuddering amongst them.

One girl vomiting at the sight of Ridley.

Blue’s face turning paler than she’d ever thought possible.

The sobs as tears fell down her cheeks.

The anger in Lucy as she ripped the gun from the man’s hands.

The pain in Lucy’s eyes as she looked around, trying to find a way to control any part of the situation, from Blue’s grief, to Alexia’s.

The panic from Blue as more men entered the room, shouting.

The yelling at Lucy to grab Alexia.

The fight in Alexia towards Lucy as she dragged her away from Ridley.

She still didn’t look at her body.

Leah had pressed herself hard against Jordan’s front, in between her legs and she knew nothing would move her from that spot.

Ridley’s body.. it was so much more confronting that the others strewn around them. She could look at them. But not her. Not Blue’s family. Not Alexia’s person. But she couldn’t avoid looking at all of the evidence… the bullet had travelled upwards from the man on the floor, and so she couldn’t miss the chilling sight of Ridley’s blood sprayed onto the roof above them.

Jordan swallowed, but her mouth was dry. She held her grip tightly and turned to see Blue alone next to her, still weeping, her lips parted as her eyes flickered between Ridley, and the armed men coming toward them.

Reaching out, she held her hand.

RIDLEY POV

It was impossible to put into words just how good Alexia’s body felt against her own, their heads leaning together as they swayed. She wanted to stay in this happy bubble together forever, but that sick feeling in her stomach was still there.

Her smell.

Her touch.

Her warmth.

She was the first thing Ridley had ever done right.

Ridley felt someone staring and turned to lock eyes with Becks. He looked from her to Duce and back.

There was an update.

"What is it, little one?" She heard Lucy ask. "Is it your leg?"

Ridley turned to look at Blue up and down, assessing her discomfort.

"It's getting sore." She admitted, though she always understated. Getting sore meant she was in quite a bit of pain she refused to show. She looked around them nervously, and Ridley knew exactly what she was thinking. Of course she did. It was her baby Blue.

Before she could help, Alexia tightened her grip to allow Lucy to get there first. Ridley kissed the Spaniard’s temple in thanks.

"Come here." Lucy cooed. She gently hoisted the smaller woman up onto her and cradled her as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.

"Luce.. your knee." Blue protested, but alas, Lucy was nothing if not stubborn.

She carried her from the dance floor, trying to cover the pain in her own knee as she did so. Blue locked eyes with Ridley over her shoulder and she immediately felt herself moving towards them, only to be stopped by her gesturing otherwise.

Blue gave her that understanding smile of hers and rested her head against Lucy’s as she was carted away.

She didn’t think she’d ever get used to not being the person to take care of her.

Blue studied her face and gave Ridley a wink which she responded to with the best smile she could give her at that point.

She didn’t need a mirror to know how unconvincing it was.

“She’s okay..” Alexia murmured in reassurance.

Ridley hummed, watching them at the table as Lucy gently sat her down, and Jordan went over. “I know..” she murmured softly in response.

“We’re all okay..”

Ridley tensed at those words, because she couldn’t be sure. He could be anywhere. She scanned the room automatically, comfortable being amongst people in a public place, yet uncomfortable at the few random people in the room who were not footballers, and obviously not with anyone.

Alexia’s fingers gently began to massage the stress from her neck.

“Hey, look at me Lee.”

Ridley did so immediately, and happily. She loved to fall into those comforting hazel eyes of hers.

“I’m right here..” she whispered, waiting for Ridley to relax a little.

Only when she relaxed, did Alexia lean forward slowly and kiss her so gently, it could have been a dream.

Alexia was never one for public affection.

This was important.

The Spaniard’s fingers slid up into the hair at the nape of her neck and she shivered.

The feeling that she was slowly growing accustomed to spread throughout her body, to each and every one of her cells. She held Alexia closer as she kissed her, soft lips on soft lips, tongues brushing ever so gently against each other, just to taste.

She was consumed by her.

Ah, fuck. Alexia.

She ran the flat of her hand from her ass, over her hip, waist, breast, collarbone, neck, right up to cup her cheek and stroke her thumb across it.

Just as she reached her cheek, Alexia’s phone rang. Ridley groaned internally but from the entertained look Alexia gave her, it was obvious.

She looked at the phone and tilted her head, answering it.

“Hola, Ona.”

As soon as Alexia was with the group, Ridley left to wander over to the Becks and Duce.

She read through the intelligence, and once done, her eyes flicked up to meet Alexia’s. She was standing with the group, though her body was facing towards Ridley. That longing feeling returned.

“There’s one more piece of information you should know.” Duce said.

“What is it?” She murmured, tearing her eyes away.

“The ace up our sleeve.” Duce replied. A face flashed onto the screen and Ridley memorised it.

“This is Reynold. He’s one of ours.”

She tilted her head, looking at the codeword next to his photo. “Who chose the Beetlejuice reference?”

YFN POV

The word grief felt like an understatement. It was far, far worse than that.

She felt sick.

Empty.

Alone.

She felt like she could feel her own heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

All at once.

She struggled to breath, instead gasping as her body shook. The only thing to distract her was to protect the rest of them.

She watched Lucy grab the gun, and flinched as she did so. Had she even handled one before?

She watched Alexia scrambling towards Ridley’s body and the blood seeping from her head.

She watched her try to wake her, to get her to move. Anything at all.

Another group of men entered the room, armed, and she yelled towards Lucy.

“Lucy!”

Lucy looked to her, to the men, and then to Alexia and understood. She shoved the gun into her hoody and hurried towards the grieving Spaniard. Knowing she’d be trouble, she bear hugged her arms around her body and dragged her backwards.

YFN watched as Alexia fought, swinging and protesting, even managing to connect her elbow and nails into her at points. But Lucy was always so noble and determined.

She dragged Alexia back next to YFN and eventually her protestations dulled into lifelessness as she stared towards her unmoving body.

Even with the men yelling at them in another language, she stared straight at her.

YFN felt Jordan take her hand and she squeezed it, not knowing how good it would feel to have that.

YFN looked to Lucy and wanted to cry even more at the expression on her face. She couldn’t protect anyone. She couldn’t control anything.

She saw a little cut on her cheek from where Alexia had managed to scratch her, and wished she could reach over and wipe the blood away.

But they dare not move. Not with these men in front of them.

She blinked the never-ending tears away to try and see them better. The main figure crouched down spoke, his eyes flickering to Alexia and YFN, pointing to them both.

But he wasn’t smiling.

His eyes were dead, and his face was neutral.

This was revenge. This was Bashir.

Gunshots rang throughout the building which built some sort of hope, but he ignored them which sunk her heart. They must have been his men.

He stood and walked over to Ridley. Using his foot, he rocked her body and it did so, limply. YFN felt sick but knew better than to say anything. She looked to Lucy whose hand had come over to cover Alexia’s mouths from any protests she may have.

Bashir stood back, watching to see if she would move.

Nothing.

He struck her in the ribs, hard with his foot.

The sound of flesh on flesh and ribs breaking was disgusting.

Alexia began to fight against Lucy again and the Englishwoman whispered in her ear. “Please don’t.”

Lucy was begging. For all of them.

Alexia ignored her and managed to free her mouth and yell towards Bashir. “Don’t you fucking touch her!” She yelled in English. “You want someone to hurt? I am here!”

YFN flinched.

He stared at her, his expression remaining neutral. Did he understand English?

Surprisingly, he ignored her and gestured to the security guards and then the door. Two of his men stood and dragged the pleading security guards to the door.

As if he had known, banging sounded on the door as people tried to get through. But his men had barred it shut.

One of Bashir’s men shouted in English. “We have hostages. Do not enter or we will kill them.”

The banging stopped.

“We need confirmation of life.” Beckett’s voice.

One of the men hit his gun against the head of one of the security guards.

“Y…yes…I…. I’m alive. My n..name is Greg. I.. I work h… ere.”

“Greg, how many people are in the room?”

Greg didn’t answer. The man with the gun nudged him again.

“Uh..” He looked around the room. “D…dead or alive?”

The gun hit again.

Silence behind the door. And then: “Both.”

“Nineteen alive… eight dead.”

“How many hostages?”

“Uh..”

“We have hostages. That is all you need to know.”

The taller man, the one who’d shot Ridley stood now, grinning towards Bashir.

“I did it. I got her for you.”

Without blinking, Bashir lifted his hand and shot him in the chest, watching as fell backwards, hitting the leg of a table and gasping for breath. YFN closed her eyes as his body fell.

“She was mine.”

The man with the gun hit it against the security guard’s head again.

“E…eighteen alive.. nine dead.”

She looked at the man who’d shot Ridley as he sat leant against the table, gasping for breath. If there were an ambulance nearby, he’d surely live. And yet – she knew Bashir wanted him to suffer.

There was silence again for a period.

“I believe you have one of ours?” Beckett asked.

YFN looked to Ridley who still hadn’t moved. Bashir kicked the gun away from where she’d dropped it and shook his head towards his man by the door. When the security guard went to respond, he hit him hard in the temple and responded in his place.

“We have one of yours.”

“I’d like to speak to her.”

Bashir fired his gun towards the door, but not at it. “You will clear us a path to the roof, or we will kill the hostages one by one. You have 10 minutes.”

He looked back at Ridley, his jaw twitching, and then he turned to the group of terrified people huddled against the wall.

“She killed my father, and my men.” He said, with a strong accent. “So I will kills hers.”

He pointed Alexia out to his other two men. “I want her partner first.”

There was no way YFN would ever let the person Ridley loved to be hurt under any circumstance. She went to move and was distracted by something in the corner of her eye.

Did Ridley just move?

RIDLEY POV

Her head felt swollen. Sore. Pounding. Like a nail to the brain.

Shouting penetrated the ringing in the ears, though she couldn’t hear what it was.

Screaming.

Ridley knew better than to move. She’d been in similar situations. She knew why what had happened, happened. She would have been killed straight away if Bashir and his men had entered with just her there. They’d needed the element of surprise.

She made herself limp, trying to ignore the pain in her head.

She felt hands touching her. Tangling into the hair at the nape of her neck.

Alexia.

It was harder to suppress a shiver than it was to suppress the blinding pain.

“Please no..” she heard Alexia sob, followed by the feeling of her lips on her cheek.

More gunshots.

More shouting.

Loud, banging noises.

“Lee, please wake up. I need you.” She cried, breaking whatever heart Ridley had. “I can’t live in a world without you in it.”

Someone shouted. Blue?

The hands disappeared.

More yelling, though in Somali. She heard the heavy footsteps of men entering the room and counted them.

There were 5.

More talking, quieter now. It was Bashir’s voice.

Gunshots rang throughout the building. Her team was here.

The feel of a foot rocking her body. She remained limp.

A foot connected suddenly, and violently with her ribs. She felt the break, felt the blood pooling in the area and yet still, remained limp.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” She heard Alexia yell in her broken English. “You want someone to hurt? I am here!”

Ridley tried to not react.

Silence.

Movement.

Two security guards protesting as they were dragged.

Banging on the door.

An exchange of words. She recognised Beck’s voice.

Becks wanted to know if she was alive, and she knew that. But there was no way for her to signal him. Instead, it was done for her.

More movement, followed by the sound of Reynold’s voice, loud enough for Becks to hear. “I did it. I got her for you.”

A pause. A gunshot.

She heard the bullet hit, and from the gasping sounds as he fell backwards, it was in his chest.

From the lack of a second bullet, she knew that Bashir couldn’t tell the difference between a bullet hitting flesh vs hitting a vest.

“She was mine.” Bashir hissed.

“E…eighteen alive.. nine dead.”

“I believe you have one of ours?” Becks asked.

The sound of her gun being kicked further away from her. Fuck.

“We have one of yours.”

“I’d like to speak to her.”

Gunshots towards the door. “You will clear us a path to the roof, or we will kill the hostages one by one. You have 10 minutes.”

Silence. And then the sound of movement behind the door.

“She killed my father, and my men.” He said, with a strong accent. “So I will kills hers.” A pause. “I want her partner first.”

Ridley’s breath hitched and she tried to suppress it. Obviously it was noticeable as Reynold created another distraction.

“Hostile times 2, two metres, 4 o’clock.” Reynold began telling her aloud. It was such a random thing, that Bashir paused to try and understand. “Bravo is mine. Split the last two.”

She heard Bashir raise his gun again. Reynold spoke again and she could hear the grin in his voice. “Look over here, boys… it's showtime!"

At the sound of the codeword, Ridley’s eyes opened just as she spun on the ground, kicking the legs of the two men out from under them. She grabbed the gun from one and shot the two standing by the door before it was knocked from her hand as a man grabbed her arm.

It was almost impossible to see with the blood running down one half of her face, and she was barely able to open her left eye, but the pain didn’t matter at that moment.

Next to her, she could see Reynold struggling against Bashir for the gun in his hand. Worried it would go off towards the group, she pulled herself against the man and kicked at their hands, the gun flying away to safety.

She managed to lock eyes with Alexia for only a split second, wide-eyed and shoving herself away from Lucy’s bear hug. An arm came around her neck and pulled her backwards, falling onto the man. The other raised a knife to get her while she was vulnerable, and Alexia slammed into him using her body, just as Ridley had taught her.

She shot a high elbow backwards and felt the man’s orbital socket give way. Spinning, she grabbed the knife from his own belt and plunged it into his chest.

Without waiting, she looked to see the other man sprawled on the floor, reaching for the knife he’d dropped when Alexia had knocked him over. Prioritising, she slammed her foot down onto his leg and as he screamed, she grabbed Alexia around the waist and picked her up, suppressing a groan for her broken ribs as she set her down where she was before. Alexia looked up, her mouth opening to protest but Ridley got there first.

“Stay, la Reina.”

She didn’t even want to know what she looked like with the blood dripping down her face.

She turned to see what remained of the two men. One was on the floor, a knife in his chest and the blood dripping from his mouth a good indicator that he was deceased. The other was now charging towards her with a knife. She managed to dodge and grab his arm, twisting it behind his back as she dropped him to the floor. She held her weight down on his body and her arm came around his neck, squeezing tightly. Face on the ground, he struggled against her to no avail.

Suddenly a sharp pain hit her outer thigh and she groaned, looking down at the knife. Rolling her eyes and swearing under her breath, she ripped it out and saw the blood begin to flow. She rocked the man under her sidewards just enough to slide the knife under before pressing his body down on top of it.

He gasped and shuddered, unable to escape until he went limp entirely.

She sat up just as one of the doors on the opposite side of the room burst down, more of Bashir’s men running towards. She watched as she approached with guns raised, yet before they reached them, her team entered and shot them down.

Her team breathed a sigh of relief when they saw her, their eyes widening at the bodies strewn around. She looked to Reynold who was standing opposite Bashir, though she was uneasy that he was so close to the group. To Blue. To Alexia. Ridley stood.

He looked at the bodies of his men around the room, then to Ridley. She didn’t need to wonder what his next move would be.

Bashir began to turn his body towards Alexia and Ridley snapped.

“Take one step towards her and I’ll break your fucking neck.”

He paused his movement, thinking.

She felt dizzy from the blood loss. She was weak. Tired. Bruised. Beaten.

Bashir also knew this. He turned back towards her. “I challenge you. You and me. I die, or you die.”

“Dumbest decision of the year.” Wombat muttered.

Her body was weak, but not enough for that. She had to think it over.

“Ridley..” Becks murmured. She turned her head, though her eyes were still on Bashir. “It’s your choice.”

He would never stop coming for her. For her loved ones. But she couldn’t agree with the unnecessary killing. The fact that she’d shed blood in front of them all. Killed in front of them. In front of Alexia. And Blue.

She gestured for her team to lower their weapons.

She took one step forward, locking onto those angry eyes of Bashir’s and murmured lowly. “You will not coerce me into an ultimatum. You want to die? That’s your choice. We are done.”

Just as she went to turn away from him, he did exactly what she’d expected and swung his knife.

“Ridley!” Alexia yelled.

Ridley ducked under his arm, snatching the knife from his hand and plunging it exactly where she was aiming. It hit with a loud thud.

A gasp of breath left his body and he stumbled backwards into one of the chairs at the table.

She crouched before him, gesturing to the knife. “I leave you with your choice. That knife is currently severing and blocking your aorta. You can live. Or you can die. But the choice is all yours.”

Before he could respond, she walked away.

ALEXIA POV

She’d been watching her from across the room since it had happened.

The authorities had arrived. People she knew held high offices. Politicians, military and such. The bodies were removed, starting with Bashir’s.

Many, many statements were taken. Photos. Injuries. Camera footage. Apologies. Explanations. A specialised team talking to the group about how to address the event in the media.

Blau managed to gain some powerful friends with what happened. And she even admitted that what happened would give Lumos a lot of publicity, though that’s not where her head was at. Most of her was trying to come to terms with everything they’d just seen.

They all were.

“It is not something anybody should ever have to see..” they were told repeatedly during the apologies.

They were offered all of the psychological help available, and she was pretty certain that it was more than just requested.

But amongst the chaos, Alexia couldn’t keep her eyes from her.

She was alive.

Ridley had been over the far side of the room in an intense debrief while her injuries were treated. Her ribs were broken. Her thigh was stitched and bandaged. Her head was also treated, stitched and bandaged until she could get proper care for it. As her shirt was removed, the military medics did seem a little startled by the amount of scars riddling her body. She lifted her arm tenderly, her torso on full display and still very much sun-kissed from their time on the island, while they bandaged her bruised ribs.

She wanted to give her space, but she also knew she needed it too. What happened had been… confronting. And not just the violence. But the feeling of having lost her. She wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. She didn’t even know if she’d be able to survive that if it had been true.

Alexia needed space to think, but she also just wanted to be close to her. To reassure her. The few times they locked eyes, she could see the shame there. The knowledge of having done such horrible things in front of her. Blau. Lucy. Everyone.

But Alexia had already understood the world she lived in. And if anything, it just made her feel even safer to see that side of her.

But amongst all of her feelings, Alexia was worried more than anything. Worried that Ridley would feel so ashamed that she’d push her away. She was terrified of that. Because after what had happened, it was clear that she couldn’t live without her.

When most of the people around her had disappeared, Alexia approached her warily, hearing her conversation as she approached.

“I am sorry again. I needed to help you before he arrived, and it was the quickest option… I’ll work on my aim a little better, huh?” Reynold chuckled, tapping her forehead.

She smiled and joked. “Very quick thinking, my friend. You saved my life by shooting me in the head.”

“Ohhh well.” He grinned as he gave an exaggerated shrug. “Looks like you owe me one.”

Ridley took his extended hand. “Thank you for your service.”

“The honour is mine. I’ll see you around, Commander.”

He turned to give Alexia a polite nod as he left, walking away from the pair.

Ridley and Alexia stood opposite each other just… looking. Not talking. She looked at the bandage on her head, the bruise on her jaw, the fatigue in those dark eyes of hers.

“Please don’t leave me...” Alexia whispered, catching her sob.

Ridley’s eyebrows came together in confusion. Her lips parted, and then closed. Her face relaxed.

“There are so many thing I have to say… so many apologies and regrets. So much shame.” She said with a voice that broke.

Slowly, and tenderly, she fell to her knees in front of Alexia. “But beyond all that - I love you, Alexia. I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours… if you’ll have me.”

She leant forwards, pressing her forehead to her abdomen, putting herself entirely at the mercy of the Spaniard.

And that’s the exact moment Alexia knew that Ridley was hers.

85 notes · View notes

dissapointu · 1 day ago

Text

Part two-

Caitlyn-

Caitlyn had always prided herself on being perceptive. It was a skill that made her an excellent Enforcer—a knack for reading between the lines, catching the smallest of tells. But when it came to you, she was at a loss.

It started with your laugh. That carefree, unapologetic sound that filled the air whenever she said something dry or sarcastic. Caitlyn had thought she was above such distractions, but the first time she made you laugh, it felt like she’d won some unspoken competition. She didn’t know she was playing until she heard the prize—a sound that made her chest flutter.

And then there was the way you handled yourself in the field. You weren’t an Enforcer, but Caitlyn had witnessed your quick thinking, your calm under pressure. She remembered the moment vividly: the two of you cornered in a narrow alley by a group of Zaunite thugs. Caitlyn had been reloading, and you—unarmed—had stepped in front of her without hesitation.

“I’ve got this,” you had said, and something in your voice, steady and sure, made her believe it.

You didn’t throw punches or start a fight; instead, you talked them down, your words sharp and clever enough to disarm even the angriest of tempers. Caitlyn had watched, awe-struck, as the situation dissolved without a single blow exchanged.

Afterward, she had teased you, of course.

“Reckless of you to step in like that,” she’d said, hands on her hips. But her tone had lacked its usual sharpness.

You’d just shrugged, giving her that lopsided smile she was quickly learning to adore.

“Couldn’t let them mess up your uniform, Officer Kiramman.”

It was ridiculous. It was infuriating. And it was the moment she realized you had her entirely and utterly charmed.

Caitlyn found herself drawn to your warmth, to the way you made her feel seen—not as Piltover’s golden child or the Kiramman heiress, but simply as Caitlyn. You didn’t try to fit her into a box or hold her to impossible standards. You teased her when she needed it, listened when she needed it more, and somehow always knew the difference.

She fell in love with the little things: the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something you were passionate about, the way you always seemed to notice when she was overthinking and gently brought her back to the present. She loved the steadiness of you, the way you anchored her in a world that so often felt like it was spinning out of control.

And when she finally told you—quietly, shyly, one evening after a long patrol—it was the first time Caitlyn had ever felt truly vulnerable. But when you smiled and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple, she knew she had made the right choice.

Because with you, everything just made sense.

Mel Medarda -

Mel Medarda had seen it all.

The hollow charm of Piltover’s elite, the desperate pleas of those looking to curry favor, the artful façades carefully constructed to disguise greed and ambition. She had learned to navigate these waters with poise and precision, wielding her influence like a painter with a brush. Nothing caught her off guard.

Until you.

She first noticed you at a gala—one of the many monotonous events where politics masqueraded as celebration. You weren’t like the others. Where most people sought to impress her with grandeur, you had been standing off to the side, your focus drawn to the intricate details of a painting she had curated herself.

“An exceptional choice,” you had said when you noticed her approach. “The artist captures motion in a way that feels alive, doesn’t it?”

She had expected flattery—some shallow comment designed to draw her attention. Instead, your observation had been genuine, thoughtful, a reflection of someone who saw more than surface beauty.

Curiosity compelled her to engage, and what started as a polite conversation became an exchange that lingered long after the night ended. You had an uncanny ability to make her feel seen in a way that no one else had. Where others sought to unravel her for their own gain, you seemed content to simply understand her.

And you challenged her—oh, how you challenged her.

“You’re far too clever to be wasting your brilliance in these circles,” you’d teased her one evening as the two of you shared a private moment overlooking the city. Your tone had been light, but the sincerity in your words had struck a chord she hadn’t expected.

She tried to brush it off, as she always did. “And what would you have me do?”

“Anything you want. You’re Mel Medarda. I doubt there’s a limit to what you could accomplish.”

It wasn’t your charm, though you had plenty of it, or even your wit, though that was sharp enough to match hers. It was the way you believed in her—not as a Medarda, not as a member of Piltover’s council, but as Mel.

And that belief was intoxicating.

She found herself seeking you out more and more, drawn to the way you seemed to bring color into her carefully curated life. With you, her sharp edges softened, and the walls she had so meticulously built began to lower.

The moment she knew she was in love came unexpectedly, during one of your quieter evenings together. You had been working on something trivial, a task that demanded your full attention. She had been content to watch, her head resting on her hand, a glass of wine forgotten on the table.

You’d looked up and caught her staring, your brows furrowing in that endearing way she adored. “What?”

“Nothing,” she had said, a rare, unguarded smile breaking across her face.

But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

It was the realization that you had become the one person she couldn’t imagine being without.

Ambessa Medarda -

Ambessa Medarda was not easily impressed.

Her life had been forged in the fires of war, where strength, strategy, and resolve dictated survival. Diplomacy and charisma might sway the weak, but Ambessa knew true power was rooted in action. People often cowered in her presence, intimidated by the weight of her reputation and the sharpness of her gaze.

But then there was you.

She first noticed you during a tense negotiation with a group of Zaunite revolutionaries. The room buzzed with tension, her imposing figure a silent warning to anyone foolish enough to waste her time. Most people faltered under her scrutiny, their words stumbling in the face of her authority.

Not you.

You had spoken with conviction, your words carrying a weight that demanded her attention. There was no pretense, no flowery rhetoric—just the truth delivered with unyielding clarity. You stood tall, unflinching, even when her eyes bore into yours with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey.

Ambessa found herself intrigued.

At first, she dismissed it as curiosity, an appreciation for your defiance in the face of her overwhelming presence. But as the days passed, she couldn’t shake the memory of your voice, the way your words lingered like the echo of a war drum.

Her intrigue deepened the next time your paths crossed. It wasn’t in a conference room or battlefield but during a moment of unexpected calm. She watched as you moved through the room with quiet confidence, your presence commanding attention without demanding it. When she approached you, expecting the same guarded demeanor she’d come to expect from most, she was instead met with a disarming smile.

“General Medarda,” you greeted her, your tone warm yet firm. “I didn’t take you for someone who enjoyed small talk.”

“And you don’t seem the type to waste time,” she countered, a rare smirk tugging at her lips.

What captured her attention wasn’t just your boldness; it was your unwavering sense of self. You didn’t seek to prove anything to her or anyone else. You stood as her equal, unshaken by her power, unafraid to meet her gaze and hold it.

The moment she knew she had fallen for you was during a private dinner, a rare occasion where the conversation strayed from politics and strategy. You had laughed—a sound so genuine, so unguarded, that it caught her off guard. It was a reminder that, beneath the armor both of you wore, there was something softer, something worth protecting.

“You intrigue me,” she admitted, her voice low, her gaze fixed on yours.

“And you surprise me,” you replied with a sly smile.

It wasn’t often that Ambessa Medarda allowed herself to be vulnerable, but with you, it felt less like a risk and more like a reward.

Maddie Nolen -

Maddie Nolen wasn’t the kind of person who believed in love at first sight. Life in Piltover had taught her to keep her head down and her eyes forward, too consumed by deadlines and expectations to indulge in romantic notions. But meeting you—that was something entirely different.

She noticed you before she even knew your name. It wasn’t your appearance that struck her, though she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t drawn to the way you carried yourself, a quiet confidence in every step. What truly captured her attention was your mind.

The first time you spoke, it was in a heated debate during one of Piltover’s endless symposiums. Maddie sat on the sidelines, her mind half-focused on the papers she was reviewing, until your voice cut through the noise.

You spoke with clarity, dismantling arguments with precision but never resorting to arrogance. Your passion was undeniable, but so was your ability to listen, to understand the nuances of the opposing side before delivering a rebuttal that left the room silent.

Maddie found herself staring, captivated by the way you navigated the conversation like an artist painting a masterpiece. By the time you finished, she had forgotten entirely about her work.

Later, she found herself approaching you, something she wouldn’t normally do. “You’ve got a sharp mind,” she said, her voice steadier than she expected.

“And you’ve got a sharper tongue,” you replied with a grin, nodding toward her papers. “Those margin notes look brutal.”

She blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by your observation. “I like efficiency,” she admitted, her lips quirking into a small smile.

You tilted your head, considering her. “I like that.”

It started with little conversations, moments stolen in the corners of crowded rooms or over cups of coffee that grew colder the longer you talked. Maddie found herself drawn to the way you challenged her without dismissing her, the way you could match her wit and still leave her smiling like an idiot long after you were gone.

She realized she was falling when she started looking forward to your interruptions, her once-sacred work hours willingly surrendered for the chance to see you.

The moment she knew it was love came late one evening, the two of you poring over blueprints and notes for a shared project. The hours had slipped by unnoticed, the city outside your window glowing softly in the night.

“You’re brilliant,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on you as you explained a theory she didn’t entirely understand but wanted to hear anyway.

You looked up, meeting her gaze with a warmth that melted every wall she’d built around herself. “And you’re stubborn,” you teased lightly, leaning closer. “But I like that about you.”

Maddie laughed—a soft, unguarded sound that surprised even her. She wasn’t used to feeling this way, but with you, it didn’t feel like a risk. It felt like coming home.

Lest -

Lest wasn’t one to get distracted. She had her routines, her people to look after, and a sharp instinct that kept her one step ahead of trouble. Living in Zaun demanded focus, and she’d honed hers to a razor’s edge. That’s why it surprised her—almost annoyed her—how often her thoughts drifted to you.

She first noticed you when you were patching up one of the street kids she looked after. The boy had come running to her, his arm bleeding and his voice shaking, but instead of taking him to a shady back-alley clinic, he’d insisted on finding you.

You’d greeted him with a calm that seemed out of place in the chaos of Zaun, your hands steady as you cleaned and dressed the wound. Lest watched from the doorway, her tail swishing with curiosity, her sharp ears catching the soft encouragements you whispered to calm the boy.

It wasn’t just your skill—it was the way you carried yourself, like the grime and danger of Zaun couldn’t touch you. You were a rare thing in her world: someone who didn’t just survive but thrived with a quiet resilience that felt almost untouchable.

She found herself lingering more often after that. At first, it was subtle—offering to walk you home after late shifts, checking in under the guise of needing supplies. But she couldn’t ignore the way her heart raced when you smiled at her, your eyes lighting up in a way that made her feel like she wasn’t just another part of Zaun’s machinery.

The moment she realized she was falling for you came on an unremarkable day. A kid had run up to you with a broken toy, and instead of brushing them off, you’d knelt down and fixed it, your fingers nimble and sure.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lest had said later, her voice gruff but her ears twitching in a telltale sign of nervousness.

You shrugged, smiling as you glanced at her. “Maybe not, but it mattered to them. And that’s enough.”

She didn’t respond right away, her golden eyes studying you like she was trying to commit the moment to memory. She didn’t understand how someone could care so freely, but she knew she wanted to keep you close.

It wasn’t long before she started showing her affection in small ways—a repaired light fixture in your clinic, a bag of fresh supplies left on your doorstep, her shadow always nearby on the nights you walked home alone.

You caught on eventually, of course. One evening, as she leaned against the wall of your clinic, her tail flicking lazily, you turned to her with a knowing smile.

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” you teased, crossing your arms.

Her ears flattened slightly, her cheeks darkening in a rare moment of flustered vulnerability. “I wasn’t trying to be subtle.”

“Good,” you said, stepping closer, your hand brushing against hers. “Because I like having you around, Lest.”

Her eyes widened briefly before a slow, almost shy smile spread across her face. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she had to hide.

And from that moment on, she made sure you always knew exactly how much you meant to her.

#arcane x reader #x reader #arcane imagine #arcane headcanon #character x reader #arcane #lest arcane #arcane caitlyn #maddie arcane #ambessa medarda #mel medarda #ambessa league of legends #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #maddie x reader #mel merdada

76 notes · View notes

insomniac4000 · 2 days ago

Note

56 - George Clarke

you’re so warm.

George Clarkeey wasn’t exactly an outdoorsman, but when ChrisMD invited him to join a camping-themed video, he couldn’t say no. The idea was simple: a group of creators would face a series of survival challenges in the wilderness, earning points for their efforts, with the loser stuck cleaning up the campsite.

The twist? Among the guests was Sophia Hale, a fellow TikToker whose laid-back charm and killer dance moves had stolen George’s attention long before this trip. He was usually confident in front of a camera, but something about Sophia left him fumbling for words like a nervous schoolboy. In his head he chastised Chris for also inviting her on the shoot, the little hobbit knew exactly what he was doing.

They all arrived at the campsite in high spirits. Chris had gone overboard, as always, bringing props like oversized marshmallows, ridiculous tents, and an inflatable kayak. Alongside George and Sophia, the group included Theo Baker and Calfreezy, who quickly started bickering over who could build the best fire.

George tried to play it cool, cracking jokes and keeping the group laughing, but he couldn’t help glancing at Sophia. Her laugh was contagious, and every time she smiled at him, he felt like his heart was doing backflips.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the temperature had plummeted. The group huddled around their not-so-roaring fire, bundled in hoodies and jackets.

Chris announced the next challenge, which involved cooking a proper meal using only what they could forage nearby. George and Sophia were paired together.

“I guess it’s you and me, Clarkeey,” Sophia said with a grin.

“Dream team,” George replied, hoping his voice didn’t crack.

They ventured into the woods with a flashlight, picking through leaves and bushes. George couldn’t resist trying to impress her with his limited wilderness knowledge.

“See this?” he said, holding up a leaf. “Totally edible. Probably.”

Sophia laughed, rolling her eyes. “Let’s not end up in the hospital tonight, yeah?”

Despite the cold, George felt warm just being near her. They managed to gather a few berries and some questionable mushrooms before heading back to the group, where Chris deemed their haul “barely passable.”

The night dragged on, with more challenges, jokes, and a fair share of teasing from Cal and Theo about George’s inability to make a tent. By the time everyone finally turned in, the air was freezing.

George crawled into his sleeping bag, which was laid out in the shoddy tent he’d managed to erect. He could hear the others settling in, their voices fading into the night. Just as he was starting to doze off, he heard the zipper of his tent being pulled open.

“George?” Sophia’s voice was soft.

His eyes shot open. “Sophia? What’s up?”

She crouched down, shivering. “My tent’s like an icebox, and I’m freezing. Can I crash here? I promise I won’t steal all the space.”

“Uh, yeah! Of course!” George scooted over so she could slide in beside him.

Sophia zipped the tent back up and slipped into his sleeping bag. George’s heart was pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

As she adjusted, she let out a content sigh. “You’re so warm,” she murmured, snuggling closer.

George froze, unsure what to do with his hands or his breathing—or his entire existence, really. He could feel the weight of her head resting lightly on his shoulder, her hair tickling his neck.

“Thanks, George,” she whispered sleepily.

“No problem,” he managed to croak out, though inside, he was anything but calm. Every beat of his heart felt like a drum solo.

As Sophia drifted off, George stared up at the tent’s ceiling, unable to sleep. The cold didn’t matter anymore. All he could think about was how close she was and he tried to calm the thumping in his chest.

#george clarke #george clarkey

31 notes · View notes

apomaro-mellow · 17 hours ago

Text

Runaway Royalty 10

Part 9

Eddie spent the rest of the evening convening with his inner circle in one of the cave’s alcoves, speaking so quietly, there wasn’t a way to figure out where the conversation was going, even when Steve found reason to go by the mouth of it no less than three times. Not that he was counting. No, Robin was and before he could make his forth pass, she hooked her arm with his and dragged him off to the space she’d taken as their own.

“I’d say you look as lost as a child but I’ve never seen a pup so forlorn as you right now.”

“I do not!”, Steve pulled his arm away and sat on the blankets provided to them.

Robin knew that pose. It was his ‘I’m going to sit in front of my vanity and primp’ pose that he did. Usually to ignore someone until they went away. But as he didn’t have a vanity-

“Where did you get that?”, Robin gasped as Steve took out a compact mirror.

“I always pack the essentials”, Steve said, looking himself over, fluffing his hair with one hand while the other held the mirror.

Robin rolled her eyes. “You can’t ignore me forever with that little thing.”

“I can ignore you just long enough.” He brought the mirror closer, looking for what, Robin couldn’t tell. Steve would spend hours in front of his vanity and Robin could never tell you what Steve had even changed. But he always seemed satisfied by the end of it.

Robin plopped down next to him, scooting until her head was in his lap. Steve was able to hold out for approximately thirty seconds before looking down at her. Only to see her eyes had gotten big, round, and wet. Steve groaned.

“Don’t use those against me. I’m the one who taught you how to do that.”

“I learned from the best”, Robin pouted.

Steve sighed and put the mirror away. Robin smiled in triumph and sat up, leaning her shoulder against his. Steve sighed again and nuzzled the top of her head. She may have been an alpha and he an omega, but he was still her big brother. That five minute difference meant something to him.

“What are you thinking about?”, Robin asked.

“It’s silly.”

“Sillier than running away from home?”

“It’s as silly as thinking that we may need to return home”, Steve confessed.

Robin blinked and pulled away. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Eddie said that Prince Edwin’s disappearance is causing distress among his kingdom. With you and I gone, our kingdom won’t be too far behind.”

Robin frowned. “You don’t think there’ll be a coup, do you? Or a war? Just over us? There’s still a whole line of succession.”

“Having three royals suddenly disappear is no small thing”, Steve said.

“Yes, but we didn’t know about Prince Edwin when we did it”, Robin pointed out. “And do you really want to be apart from Eddie?”

Steve brought his knees up to his chest. “You know I don’t. I know this is just infatuation but I…it’s silly.”

“You’re very silly today.”

“Could it not become a true romance? If it were given time?”

Robin laid her head on Steve’s shoulder and rubbed her cheek against it, scenting him. “I think whatever you want to do, you should do it soon. It feels like our path and his will diverge soon.”

That night, they cuddled up close together and fell asleep. Royal blood dictated that after a certain age, they had to sleep separately. Common folk typically slept with their pack in nests but if the royal family did so, it made it all the more easier for assassins. They’d both missed being able to sleep with each other.

But when morning came, Robin tugged his ear gently, coaxing him awake. It might have been gentle, but he was still annoyed by it and tried going back to sleep.

“You have a gentleman caller”, she whispered into his ear.

Steve stiffened and then quickly relaxed. He whispered back. “How long?”

“He’s been stalking for about ten minutes.”

He wanted to slap her. “And you didn’t wake me?”

“I’ve been trying.”

Steve turned onto his back, pretending to stretch and yawn, then rose to a sitting position. He fixed his hair up a bit just in time to hear Eddie’s footsteps move across their cave. But instead of continuing, as if he were patrolling, he paused at the mouth of it.

“Oh, you’re up.”

“I am”, Steve said, voice soft.

Robin could have rolled her eyes but she refrained. She knew Eddie was trying to talk to Steve but was being annoyingly coy about it. It was a little funny though, watching Steve put on the whole ‘demure omega’ act.

“Well good morning to you. And to you Robin”, Eddie gave a bow.

“Good morning Eddie. I assume you have business with my brother, yes?”

“That I do, if I may have your leave”, he said as he rose back up.

“Hmm, I don’t know, the last time you two were left alone-”

Steve threw the blanket off of himself, into Robin’s face and got up to meet Eddie at the mouth of the cave. “Ignore her. She doesn’t know when a joke has gone too far.”

Eddie chuckled as he watched Robin struggle under the fabric. “Oh but ‘tis no joke for me. She is your kin and an alpha at that. I intend to do right by the both of you.”

“And to what end?”, Steve asked.

“I invited you both to join my pack. That makes you my responsibility.”

“Is that why you wish to converse with Steve alone?”, Robin asked, finally getting to her feet.

Eddie’s cheeks flushed and he hesitated to answer just long enough for Robin to scoff. He was so incredibly obvious. He and Steve deserved each other, truly.

“Go on, the both of you. Just remember sound travels in these tunnels.”

Now Steve was blushing but he was already rushing Eddie out. It was odd, how short they’d known each other and yet he couldn’t wait to get him alone again.

“So what did you want to talk about?”, Steve asked, their arms linked together.

Eddie’s heart swelled when their gazes met. He couldn’t believe he’d come to care for someone in such a short amount of time. He may need to return as Prince Edwin, but that didn’t mean he had to part from Steve, did it? Eddie wanted to believe his fiance would understand. Wherever he was. Maybe Prince Stephen had gone to elope with his own lover, Eddie couldn’t be sure.

The only thing he could be sure of was the fact that he wanted more time with the omega on his arm right now. Not some faceless royal who he’d never met. Eddie led their stroll across the main cavern, towards his own space.

“I meant what I said. I invited you and Robin to join us. And I know we haven’t officially set it, but I already consider the both of you pack.”

Eddie felt emboldened when he could smell Steve’s interest. When they got to his den, Eddie sat Steve on a pillow. One that seemed like it was meant for nicer places than a cave. A blanket over the mouth acted as a privacy curtain for the space.

“You heard what I said last night. I have to return home. Someone else will lead the bandits. But you and Robin you could…” Eddie knelt in front of Steve. “You could come and stay with me.”

“S…stay with you?”, Steve breathed out.

“I want to court you the way you deserve, Steve. For longer than a day, for longer than a month. You deserve love letters, and courting gifts, and for me to earn Robin’s approval.”

“You would do all of that? Welcome us into your home and promise me all of that?”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hands. “I may not look like I come from much but we’ve got plenty of room.” It was all Eddie had thought about last night. Bringing Steve into the castle, introducing him to his family and being allowed to show the world his love. It was unorthodox, a prince courting and then marrying a commoner. But it was what his parents had done. That was something he’d been entirely truthful about.

Not many knew exactly what happened to the Bandit King. But Princess Tannis falling for someone below her station was well known. His parents would be hypocrites to not accept Steve. If they had a problem with it, he’d run away again. But Steve was meant for the throne.

“If I accept…”, Steve started, his hands smoothing up Eddie’s arms. “Would we be allowed to consummate the courtship?”

“I don’t see why not”, Eddie said, his own arms coming around Steve’s waist and bringing them to their feet.

Their faces got close, pausing to savor their scents mixing when the blanket was pulled back, revealing Gareth. “I drew the short straw. Come and eat.”

Steve sighed but Eddie patted his hip. “All for the best, my sweet. I said you deserve better than a forest floor and I didn’t mean a cave.” Now that his path was clear, Eddie knew exactly what he had to do. What he wanted to do. Any thoughts of Prince Stephen had been completely erased from his mind. It was all just Steve, Steve, Steve.

Part 11 coming soon

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #platonic stobin #omegaverse #a/b/o

20 notes · View notes

tuiandkaea · 5 hours ago

Text

Wiled Life ep 5 fanfiction

I wrote a angsty Scarian fic, it's also on Ao3. Here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60660292/chapters/154893115

Scar was looking through his chests when he heard Ren.

“Scar! Scar!”

“Yeah?”

“I have a question?”

“Okay, what is it?”

“What flowers did you give Grian as a peace offering in 3rd Life?”

“Oh” Scar chuckled. “Haha I know this question.” He said it with a slight smile, but he was holding back tears. He remembered it, the desert, the flowers. When Grian cared about him.

Ren laughed with him, but Scar could tell he was nervous, he knew Scar and Grian had broken up, but know one knew why.

“If there's anything with a lilac and a poppy, that’s the one.”

“Yeah, yeah, two flowers.”

“Yeah, I think it’s a lilac and a poppy.” Think? He knows. Knows the smell of them, the look, the feel, the memories. “Let's go check just to be sure.” He said.

Scar and Ren were walking back to his and Martyn's base. There was an awkward silence. Scar knew Ren didn’t want to talk about Grian in front of him.

“You know, this is so fun.” Scar said, “these flowers all tie back to Secret Life, my outfit.”

“I saw Grian had them in his hair in 3rd Life.”

“Yeah, he did…” Scar trailed off. The memories of him came back. Grian standing in the sand, the flowers in his light brown hair, his smile. He felt tears in his eyes.

“You good man?” Ren asked.

Scar hadn’t realized how long he’d been silent. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Ren looked concerned. “You don’t look fine?”

“We should get a move on, you don’t want Martyn to run out of time.” Scar said, avoiding his question.

“Yup, you’re right.” Ren said.

They reached Martyn.

“Hey! Martyn!” Ren yelled.

“What’s the answer!!? What’s the answer!?”

“Lilac and poppy.”

“Right, okay.” Martyn kicked the first answer on the screen. “It’s right!”

“Oh that’s good.” Ren said.

“Yeah, well I should be off, glad you got it right.” Scar said.

“Yeah thanks man!” Martyn said. “Here take a diamond.”

He tossed Scar a diamond, Scar caught it. “Thank you.”

Martyn looked at Scar more intently, now taking in his full appearance. “You good Scar?”

“What-oh yeah, I’m great.”

“You look…” Realization and hit Martyn. “Is this about the question? About Grian and all that?”

Scar felt his heart beat faster. He didn’t want to have this conversation, and didn't want Martyn of a people to pity him. “Oh, would you look at that, Scott’s burning down your tree.”

“W-what?!” Martyn said, turning to look at Scott.

Scar then turned and walked away.

He was walking on the bridge to Etho, Bdubs and Tangos base, when he saw Etho.

“Oh, look what you did.”

“What? Oh.” He realized that Etho thought he burned Martyn’s and Ren’s house. “It wasn’t me this time.”

“Oh really.” Etho asked with a chuckle.

“I know it looks bad, but it wasn’t me, it was Scott.” Now it really looked bad. Scott burn something down? Not Scar.

“Oh my Scar! Why would you do that?!” Bdubs asked, as he came on the bridge, looking at the burning house.

“It wasn’t me, okay, I just want to go home.” The sadness Scar’s tried to hide since Ren asked him that question, came out as he said the last few words. And Etho and Bdubs caught it.

“Scar? Are you okay?” Etho asked gently.

Scar didn’t trust himself to talk, so he nodded in answer.

“Are you sure?” Bdubs asked.

Scar couldn’t deal with this, so he took out an ender pearl and threw it. He teleported over to the start of the stars up to his base.

Scar was sitting in between the bamboo, breathing heavily, trying to calm down.

He wasn’t prepared for Ren to ask him that question. Why couldn’t he have just asked Grian?

He was grateful that his friends instantly knew something was wrong with him, but also not. He didn’t want them to know how much pain he was in, or why he and Grian broke up.

So Scar cried where only the bamboo could hear him. Or so he thought.

“Hey Scar! I’ve been looking for you, Martyn, Etho and-” Scott stopped speaking as Scar turned to him. “What happened?”

Scar looked down, wiping his tears away with his sleeve. “Nothing.”

“Scar, you’ve been crying.”

“Over something stupid, so it’s nothing.”

“Scar. I know you, you don’t cry over nothing. What is it?”

Scar didn’t say anything.

“Martyn, Ren, Etho and Bdubs said that you were acting odd. Martyn said that he had a question that might have upset you?”

Scar looked at Scott, then saw someone walking over. Martyn.

“Scar. Are you okay?” Martyn asked.

“Fine.”

“No he’s not. I came here and he was crying.” Scott informed Martyn.

“Wow, just outing me there Scott.” Scar said.

“Scar.” Martyn began, “I’m sorry for sending Ren out to ask you that question. I didn’t think about it, and I’m so sorry.”

“Well I’m fine. So you have nothing to apologize for.” Scar said, with a soft smile.

“Yes I do. I can see that it’s hurt you.”

“It hasn’t. And it wont. Because I’m fine. I’m fine.” Scar found that he was trying to convince himself more than Scott and Martyn. Trying to lie, tell himself that he wasn’t crying two seconds ago, over some flowers. Over him. Over what he did.

“Scar…you’re not fine.” Scott began. “What happened to you two?”

Martyn looked at Scott in disbelief.

“We broke up.” Scar said simply.

“I know that. I want to know why? You two loved each other.”

Grian didn’t love him. At least not enough to care for Scar’s feelings. “Some people fall out of love.”

“But you didn’t, Scar.” Martyn said. “You still love him.”

“I don’t.”

“Scar, what truly happened?” Scott asked.

Scar looked at the ground in front of him. “Nothing happened. We just broke up okay. That happens. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.” Again he was telling himself more than them. “I’m fine.” Scar felt tears fall down his face. “I’m fine.” He tucked his knees closer to his chest. “Please, be fine.” He told himself.

“Scar…” Scott bent down besieged him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not fine.”

Scar told them how he and Grian broke up. But he left out the real reason it ended, that Grian cheated. While Scar talked Scott said how much Grian didn’t deserve him, Martyn on the other hand, sat on a rock and stared at the grass, not saying a word.

“I never knew.” Scott said.

“Well, he fooled me too.” Scar replied, with a weak simile.

“Why would he hurt you?” Martyn asked, “why would he do this to you?”

“I don’t know.” Scar said. “I guess that’s just what toxic people do.” Scar looked out at the moon, now rising. “You guys should get back home, it’s getting dark.”

“We’re not leaving you Scar.” Scott said.

“I’ve had to deal with this for a long time, I’ll be okay.”

Scott nodded and got up, Martyn got up too. “Call us if you need anything.” Martyn said.

“Got it.”

They left.

Scar got up and lay down on his pink bed. Jimmy and Lizzy should be back soon. He heard someone walking over.

“Hey Lizz, how was y-” Scar stopped speaking as he turned over and saw Grian. “What do you want?” Scar asked, his voice low.

“To talk to you.”

Scar got out of the bed. “There's nothing to talk about.”

“Why did Scott and Martyn look at me like I killed someone two seconds ago.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does, Scar. What did you tell them?”

“I told them the truth about us.”

“Why the hell would you do that to me?!” Grian shouted.

“You don’t get to be angry here.” Scar said his voice low, as he stepped towards Grian. “You don’t deserve to be anything but sorry, sorry for what you’ve done to me. For breaking my heart.”

“You didn’t have to tell them that I cheated.”

“I didn’t tell them.”

“Oh, thank goodness. Big B’s okay then.” Grian said, relieved.

Scar felt sick. Grian was worried about that man he cheated on Scar with. Happy that he was okay. “You disgust me. You care about him more.”

“Well we’re not together, Scar.”

“We were in Double Life. You know, I actually believed that you loved me once. But you never did, you killed me in 3rd Life, Last Life you left me, cheated on me in Double Life, killed me again in Limited Life, and you knew my task in Secret Life, you knew when you came to me asking if we could team together, that I had to deny the one thing I’ve wanted since that desert. since something I thought we had. But you never loved me. Did you?”

“I don’t know.” Grian whispered.

“You are just like them, the Watchers. You hurt people. And I’m done. I don’t care who knows what you did to me, I’m done with you.”

Grian’s eyes widened, at realization at what he meant. “Scar, wait, plea-”

“Don’t Grian!” Scar cut him off. “Don’t try and beg, you brought this upon yourself. Just leave.”

Grain just stared at him. “Scar I-”

“I said leave!” Scar shouted at him.

Grian flinched. Then turned around and left.

As soon as he was gone, Scar sat on the ground and cried. He didn’t want to see Grian ever again. Didn’t want to hurt because of him.

#desert duo #grian #life series #goodtimeswithscar #scarian fanfiction #scarian #wiled life #wiled life fanfiction #wiled life ep 5 #angst

17 notes · View notes

goldkirk · 10 months ago

Text

it’s so scary and so freeing to just be a person.

#the discovery and fulfillment of my curiosity as I go #trying to scientific observational field researcher my way through discovering #What Existence Includes #while I’m in this state to experience it #it’s like being back to my very youngest days before I started learning the major rules #when I was just sensation and experience and curiosity #making sense / making an ongoing story of the world and time itself as it flies past #personal #cult escapee #katie.txt #past me: thank you thank you thank you for holding on through the nightmare. thank you for riding out the huge world-ending pain. thank you #it was worth it it was worth it #of course it isn’t perfect but I SAID it’d be better within a few years didn’t I?#you signed up for this you made the commitment when you knew.#you tried allowing yourself to trust yourself again for the first time since age 7 or so.#you knew you couldn’t hold it all up front for that long if you were gonna survive transplanting yourself like an organ.#you knew you’d be giving up a lot. and you did it anyway because you were brave and you cared that much about how very very little you #deserved better for her world #and here you are. and here we are.#you told the therapist ‘of course not!!!’ so instantaneously and so full of belief. so dead sure on deep reflex that you could NEVER #trust yourself in a million years because even if the supernatural surveillance state wasn’t real and you didn’t have innate evilness #just from the Doctrine Is Saying So #where was I going with this. I’m typing tags on mobile and it’s religious for me but it’s also impossible as a ui #anyway my POINT WAS: it is so hard and so scary but it’s like walking into the world of Sesame Street for real.#you were right. it IS good to be alive. the whole thing all the way through is a bewildering baffling marvel. you’re ok to be delighted #about it and marvel at how wild it is that there’s so much about it all and so many things to see and think and meet and feel and do during #our spans of time #no matter what came before or what might come next #what a goddam marvel of it all. ain’t it just the strangest thing of all that we’re alive. what a marvel. what an absolutely magnificent hit #existence is an absolute absurdity

33 notes · View notes

retiredteabag · 3 months ago

Text

winter weight

synopsis: toji has gained some weight this winter - it seems you don’t mind

this is part two -> read about summer!toji here

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It's said that "happy weight" is a very real thing in healthy relationships. Toji had always prided himself on being a big man, he worked out frequently and ate like a beast. But his physique has mostly remained the same impressive form. This winter, however, seemed to have changed that for the very first time.

Toji had noticed these past few days that he'd seemed to have put on a couple of pounds. His shirts were tighter now than they used to be, some of his sleeves seemed to almost cut off circulation, and with a quick feel of his stomach, it was clear that his body was... softening up.

He was not "insecure" per say, just- not in love with his newly added weight. He found himself pulling at the flesh of his stomach, not accustomed to the added fat and he barely walked around the house shirtless as of late.

You'd comment on this newfound modesty of his and he'd play it off as if he had been cold, but you know that your man couldn’t get cold, even in this winter weather.

One afternoon as you both lounged on the couch, you saw him pulling at the front of his T-shirt, flowing it out and away from his body. He didn't seem to be doing it intentionally, eyes focused on the television, but you certainly noticed.

That night he even went to bed with a shirt on which might just have been the very first time he's ever done that in his life.

You went to bed with this notion on your mind. The thing was... the man was totally irresistible to you, so you couldn't quite understand if he was suddenly worrying about his figure.

Toji always awoke before you did in the mornings. When you heard him in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, you stumbled out of bed and came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his form.

Toji is a big guy, he always has been. Only now you notice, when holding the man’s torso, your two arms barely reach around to the mans abs now…

You hum as you feel him up, and he doesn't push you away. Once upon a time you would have tried to tickle his sides, but having been around Toji for awhile now, you know he's not the ticklish type. Even so, your cold hands dance under his shirt and grope at him.

"Too early, ya know." You murmur into his broad back. "Won'tcha come back to bed."

"Get yer paws off me" he jitters, "you're freezing." He turns around to look at you now, facing downwards to meet your tired pout.

"Come warm up with me then." You finish speaking. Smooshing your cheeks into his back muscles and opening your mouth to press up against him and breathe a lung full of hot air through his shirt. While the warmth meets his spine you roll your hands back to his pudgy tummy, his happy trail…

"Alright, alright." He grabs the back of your neck and walks you back to bed. When you're just about within throwing distance, he grabs you by the sides of your chest and tosses you onto the mattress.

In the following moments you curl yourself upon him, your body splayed above his. Giggling, you can't help your wandering hands. He's so warm, you know?

He grabs at your wrist though, "Enough, don't fondle me." His eyes are teasing but you wonder if he's starting to feel unhappy with his body.

"Can't help it, you’re so handsome, ya' know?"

You can feel his muscles tense below you at the confession. He runs a hand through his hair and avoids your eyes. "Thats a bad argument."

You just hum and squish your arms under his back, molding your body to his.

Suddenly he speaks up, "I wouldn't work out as much if I knew you still liked me all fluffy". You hear an annoyed tint in his tone and move up to look at him.

"I like you in all your forms, Toji." And you mean it.

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes at your words and pulls your hands away.

"Don't move me, you're so hot." You tug your wrists in his grasp.

His eyebrows raise

He holds your gaze for a long while, and lifting a brow he slowly speaks, "Get another blanket then."

You stare at him, smiling. "No." You smoosh your face to his chest, "I wanna crawl under your skin... and eat your flesh..."

Toji knew what was coming, he gently pressed on your forehead before you could latch your jaw around his bicep.

"Don't. Even. Think about it." He holds in a giant grin.

"You're too chewable. C'mon..... comeoneeeee." You smirk at him, his palm still flush to your skull.

There's a pause, and just as you think he's gonna give in, he maintains pressure, running his hands down your neck, onto your waist and traps your body under his by rolling on top of you. There are wails of descent from your crushed form beneath him, but he holds you there, wrists in his grasp.

"Lemme go Toji." You tug at your wrists.

"Thought you wanted me heating you up." He huffs into your neck.

"Yeah, but I deserve the privilege of caressing a little more." You flex your hands again.

"You gonna behave?" his fingers run over your palms.

"Not a chance."

He grins, releasing you. Quick as lightning, your hands are up and under his shirt, running over his back. He's groaning into the mattress, something about icy hands, but he's sporting a big grin, leaning down to take a tiny bite of your shoulder.

8K notes · View notes

bunnis-monsters · 7 months ago

Text

NSFW

Yandere!Vampire that was once royalty, living in a dilapidated castle, alone and depressed. As a human, he was surrounded by people. Everyone adored him, his golden curls and warm brown eyes charming the hearts of every noble that set eyes on him.

That was until his family was slaughtered by a coven of vampires, leaving him the only survivor. Now with no family, he was turned away from the nobles that once gathered at his side, calling him beautiful and intelligent. Now he was a beast, and was only left alive because no one dared to touch him.

As the years passed by, all that knew of his existence died out, meaning no one remembered or cared for him. In the past, he had at least been grateful he had been in someone’s thoughts, even if it was in a negative light. Now, no one even hated him. He was just nonexistent to the world outside his castle.

Centuries passed by, every day slowly picking at the last bits of his sanity. Days of past grandeur and the current day mixed together, leaving him in a state where he couldn’t tell whether he was back in the living arms of his family, or wandering the dark, crumbling hallways of his childhood home.

It was only when a soft, warm light flooded one of the abandoned rooms he had been standing in that the fog in his brain began to fade, allowing him to see what was in front of him for the first time in decades.

It was you, a young woman in a hoodie and jeans, holding a flashlight. You lived only a mile away, and had been exploring when you came upon ruins of what seemed like an ancient castle.

You had heard rumors of a person that wandered the ruins from the townsfolk, and old tales of vampires that had been passed down by tongue for centuries. Not believing them, you decided to see for yourself…

Your light shone upon what you first thought was an ethereal ghost or some kind of beautiful spirit. A man with a mop of blonde curls, porcelain skin, and the most beautiful pair of ruby red eyes you’ve ever seen stared back at you.

The person attempted to speak, but clutched his throat, as if he hadn’t spoken in so long, his vocal cords had forgotten how.

“H-hello?”

The man perked up at the sound of your voice, his eyes clearing up. It seemed just hearing another human speak made his undead heart leap, and he couldn’t help but stumble towards you.

You yelped when he crossed the room within seconds and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply.

The smell of another person, of sweat and perfume mixing together to make your own unique scent made him want to sob.

Of course you were freaked out, but the man holding onto you wasn’t hurting you, and you could feel warm tears soaking through your shirt. How could you turn away someone that was obviously in distress?

Unsurprisingly, the man followed you home. It didn’t take a genius to realize he wasn’t human. He was as pale as a sheet of paper, with no pulse or any color to his cheeks. His eyes were scarlet, a shade you had never seen a human have before.

Despite knowing this, you couldn’t help but care for him. He was thin, malnourished, with clothing that was so old and dirty that it nearly crumbled when he took them off.

“Are you hungry?”

You had taken to asking only yes or no questions, since he couldn’t speak. The man frowned, his eyes getting foggy for a second. You decided to ask again.

“Hello? Are you-“

He suddenly snapped back into reality, leaning forward to gently place his lips on your neck. You squeaked out in surprise when you felt his teeth sink into your neck… but it didn’t hurt. Instead, you only felt an uncomfortable pressure and draining sensation, and before long he was pulling back.

“Mmph…” he panted softly, blood running down his chin. “Was… so… thirsty…” he managed to say, his voice hoarse and small.

He cupped your cheek, holding your face in his hands and looking down at you with what could only be described as utter adoration.

“My love…”

From that point on, he was attached to your hip, following you everywhere you went like a lovesick puppy. Any time you were separated, he had severe anxiety, going back and forth from his dreamworld and reality. It was his coping mechanism, but it caused him to never understand what was real and what wasn’t.

You grounded him, made him feel safe and loved. Oh how he adored you. You had saved him from his lonely existence and taken him into your home as if he were a stray dog, and he was loyal like one. His loyalty came at a price, however, and that price was your freedom to do as you pleased.

Late nights out with friends became next to nonexistent, especially if he knew there would be any males there.

“I just want to protect you, my beloved. It’s a dangerous, cruel world. People will act as if they love you when they do not…”

And as you slowly became more and more isolated, his affections only grew. Kisses to your hand began to trail up your arm and to your neck. Snuggles turned into grinding and heavy petting, and even the most innocent of caresses became lewd in nature.

It didn’t take long for him to fuck you for the first time. After all, he had been pent up and alone for centuries, resisting taking you on the spot was excruciating.

The second he sunk into your pussy, he came. You were just so warm and your scent made his head fuzzy. He couldn’t help but fuck into you like a wild animal, feeding from your pretty neck as he filled you up over and over.

After the first time, a day didn’t pass by when he didn’t crave your intimate touch. Some days he was satisfied with heavy petting and kisses, others he couldn’t be satiated until his face was between your legs, lapping at your cunt for hours.

You were his, his mate, his lover. He couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore, so could you really blame him when he clung to you so tightly?

He just loved you, and he did such a good job at keeping you satisfied, just enough to where you didn’t look into the missing cases of your old lovers and male friends.

Why would you need to pay attention to any of that when your loving, attentive boyfriend was right there, ready to worship you from head to toe?

10K notes · View notes

gothgoblinbabe · 2 months ago

Text

Belt Buckle

Logan Howelett x fem reader

A/N: okay, so this. Uh. Hear me out - I can’t be the only one who’s thought about this. It’s exactly what you think it is. Also it’s not very long just cause I’m still working on requests but it’s been collecting dust in google docs

Warnings: NSFW 18+

Word count: 840

divider credit

You couldn’t quite place where the fascination began.

Maybe it was because it sat right above the bulge in his jeans or because you were always yanking the stupid thing out of the way to get his pants down his thighs, but your eyes were always on the buckle of Logan’s belt lately. He had a couple different ones - all obnoxiously big - and of course you teased him, calling him a cowboy or a show off.

Lately, though, you’d been struggling to keep your mouth shut. Every time he’d stand in front of you now, you couldn’t tear your eyes from whatever chunky adornment was attached to the front of his belt.

“What are you lookin’ at, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flickered back up to his and you shrugged.

“Nothin’.”

He titled his head, “really?”

“Mhm.”

“Why’re you starin’ like that, then?”

Shit.

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. You’d been together plenty of times, admitted almost everything to each other, but you still found yourself too embarrassed to admit what it was that had you staring so much.

You finally had to tell Logan while sitting on his lap in bed, his hands kneading your hips to pull you back and forth over his hard cock beneath his jeans. With his eyes closed, lost in the feeling of your tongue in his mouth, he dragged your hips forward a little farther than intended, inadvertently dragging your thinly clad pussy right over his belt buckle. Usually he’d pick up on the little things like that - how loud you whined when he pulled you forward - but you tried not to make the noise again, embarrassed.

He did, anyway.

He pulled your lips from his with his hold on your face, his thumb and fingers gripping your cheeks to the point that your lips were squished into a pout.

“You got somethin’ you wanna tell me, pretty girl?”

You knew you could tell him anything, but this felt far too humiliating - as if you were positive he’d scoff at the idea and tell you that you were gross for even thinking it.

You tried to shake your head, but he knew you far too well.

He grabbed you by your hips and lifted you off his lap.

“Spit it out, princess.”

You sharply inhaled, eyes dropping to his belt.

“I…um, I was thinking…” you tried to say something, anything to even hint at what you wanted, but it seemed stuck in your throat.

Logan clicked his tongue, “Baby. If you want somethin’ you gotta say it.”

You hated that he was right. You had to just get it out, say it all at once like ripping off a bandaid.

“I wanna ride your belt buckle. It’s big, I think it’d feel good.”

Your words hung in the air, met with deafening silence.

You watched his parted lips curl up into a smug grin, his eyebrows raised in mild disbelief.

“Jesus, that’s filthy. You really think about that?”

Your face burned. You opened your lips to speak but nothing came out. He was definitely going to call you weird, tell you that’s gross and get up from the bed.

Instead, he wordlessly leaned forward and hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties to pull them down your legs. He threw them to the floor and leaned back with his hands behind his head, leaving you sitting in front of him in only one of his t-shirts with nothing underneath. You looked at him curiously, eyes flickering between his face and his lap.

“C’mon, you want it or what?”

You hastily climbed back onto his lap, positioning yourself so that his erection was behind you and your bare pussy was against the cold metal of his belt buckle. You weren’t sure exactly what to do at first. He usually held your hips when you were in his lap, helping you grind down onto him. Now, though, they were locked behind his head as his eyes bore into yours.

“You asked for it so you gotta do the work, baby.”

You huffed, placing your hands on his chest so you could lean forward and roll your hips. You slid your swollen pussy across the ridges of the cool metal of the buckle, your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

You looked up to see Logan’s stare glued to his lap, watching hungrily with his bottom lip caught between his teeth as you rocked yourself back and forth.

“Feels good?” He asked, already breathing heavily from the way your ass grazed the tip of his cock when you dragged your hips back.

You nodded, nearly slack jawed with your eyes closed.

“Use your words,” he demanded, eyebrows furrowing.

You groaned in annoyance at the familiar phrase, one he loved to use when you were too turned on to speak.

“Yeah, feels good - fuck,” you cursed when he lifted his hips a little, pushing against you as you continued to grind yourself down.

“So you guessed right, then, huh?”

A/N: short and sweet but ya idk I couldn't get it out of my head <3

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #wolverine smut #logan howlet smut #logan wolverine #x men

3K notes · View notes

emocheol · 8 months ago

Text

seventeen when you call them by their name

instead of a pet name

a/n: i forgot how long writing 13 different scenarios takes T-T

seungcheol

after a long day of practice cheol entered your shared apartment late at night.

even though he was trying to be quiet you still heard the click of the front door and his fumbling around in the entryway. so you decided to get up and greet him.

“seungcheol?” you asked sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you walked out of your bedroom.

he was so taken aback by his name that he didn't even reply for a good 30 seconds.

“i'm sorry for being home late,” he frowned, “don't be mad.” he whined softly, thinking you were upset with him. why else would you use his full name?

you looked at him quizzically and slotted yourself in his arms, he seemed to relax significantly at your touch.

“i'm not mad, what makes you think that?” you questioned, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“you called me seungcheol,” he pouted, “what happened to baby?” his pout intensified, his lip jutting out further.

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics, “i’m sorry, baby,” you teased, emphasizing the pet name, “i didn't know you liked it that much,” you cooed, putting your hands on his cheeks and smushing his face.

“don't tease me,” he grumbled, pretending to be upset, which just elicited another laugh from your end.

“fine, fine,” you said with your hands raised, mocking a surrender, “let's go to bed, baby, you've had a long day,” you suggested, pecking his lips and taking his hand to lead him to the bedroom.

jeonghan

you had been basking in jeonghan's company all day. it was a rare off-day for the idol and you spent every second possible with your boyfriend.

you were currently in one of your lulls of conversation, just sitting in comfortable silence on two different ends the couch while you both scrolled on your phones.

you saw a funny video while scrolling and knew your boyfriend would love it so you looked over at him and called his name.

“hey, jeonghan? look at this video,” you giggled, holding your phone screen in his direction.

but your boyfriend didn't pay you any mind. thinking he didn't hear you, you called for him a little louder.

“jeonghan? hello?” you scooted closer to him on the couch when you went unanswered again.

you poked his cheek and turned his head to make him look at you when he still didn’t answer.

“hello?” you questioned, noticing his nonchalant expression.

“oh? were you talking to me?”he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“yes? i said your name twice!” you whined, knowing he heard you but he was clearly ignoring you.

“no, you said ‘jeonghan,’” he said, making air quotes with his fingers, "and that's not my name," he pouted finally, showing a side of him that you didn't often see.

you realized what he was talking about and tried to hide a grin at his demeanor, “aww, i'm sorry, let me try again,” you cooed, going back to your previous side of the couch to reset.

“hannie... my angel, my sweetheart, my precious?” you tried, “come look at this video,” you laughed, his attention already on you as you listed your names for him.

“of course, my love,” he smiled, getting up from his spot and cuddling up to your side, “look at how easy that was,” he whispered, plucking your phone from your hands and watching the video that you had pulled up.

he pulled you into his arms and nuzzled his cheek against your head, scrolling and looking at more videos with you. “you're crazy,” you said with a laugh, pressing a kiss against his cheek, but you wouldn't want it any other way.

joshua

“joshua?” you called out from the kitchen while you were making dinner. he had been playing video games in the living room ever since his practice was over.

hearing his full name from you made his ears perk up and he quickly shut off his game, rushing to the kitchen.

“love?” he asked softly, putting his hand on your shoulder, already thinking he had upset you he didn't want to anger you further. “is everything okay?” he asked tentatively, testing the waters.

“huh? yeah, joshua, everything's fine can you just-”you said as you stirred the pot on the stove, not looking up at him while you were focused on perfecting the food.

but, when he heard his full name again and the classic 'everything's fine' line he quickly jumped to conclusions and deduced that everything was not fine.

he cut you off before you could finish talking and immediately went into apologizing.

“i’m sorry, love, i don't know what i did to make you upset but i'll fix it, okay?” he said with a weary smile, still with his hand on your shoulder, “was i on the game for too long? did you want me to help you cook? was i too loud?” he rambled, facepalming as he thought he had messed something up and made you mad.

as he rambled you slowly started to look over at him, his words confusing you to no end.

“why would i be upset?” you asked, looking at him as if he was crazy, which he was.

“what?” he questioned back, “you called me joshua and you haven't looked at me and you said everything was ‘fine’, that's like textbook upset partner.” he said, as if it was totally obvious.

you blinked at him a few times before you burst out laughing, “god, babe, you're hilarious!” you exclaimed, slapping his shoulder as you laughed. now it was joshua's turn to be confused since he was positive that you were upset.

“you’re not upset?” he questioned, you shook your head as your answer while you were still doubled over laughing, “why did you call me over then?” he asked.

you pointed to the glass jar on the counter next to you after you had composed yourself, “i was going to ask you to open that jar, dummy,” you teased.

joshua blew out a breath and quickly opened the jar with ease, “that's... it?” he questioned.

“yeah, that's it, you can go play your game some more,” you smiled, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

“but you called me joshua...” he grumbled, you never called him joshua!

“which is your name, if i’m not mistaken,” you pointed out, pinching his cheek. he swatted at your hand and groaned.

he opened his mouth to start complaining more before you quickly stopped him. “okay, okay, i’m sorry babe, you can go play your game again.”

joshua gave you a firm nod, as if he was finally satisfied with your name for him. “okay. let me know if you need anything.” he grinned, kissing your head and then strolling back to the living room.

“you’re a child,” you whispered to yourself, continuing dinner with a smile on your face.

“but you love me!” he called back, somehow hearing you. well, he’s not wrong.

jun

‘thanks, junhui!’

that was the text that you had sent your boyfriend after he told you he bought you a book from the town he was currently in on tour.

he loved gift giving and he knew you loved books so he scoured every bookshop in the town to find the perfect book for you. he excitedly sent you a picture of the book he bought and that was your reply to it.

it made his head spin with reasons of why you could be mad at him.

calling him ‘jun’ was already a rarity in your relationship, but ‘junhui’? he wasn’t sure you’d ever called him that.

‘are you mad at me?’ he texted back, getting straight to the point.

you took nearly 10 minutes to reply, 10 agonizing minutes for jun.

‘not at all, i’ll see you when you get home’ was your response.

now this reply made him absolutely spiral, good thing he was returning home today. but because of your replies to him he made a few extra stops before hopping on the plane.

when you finally arrived back home from work you opened the door and was met with your sheepish looking boyfriend and what looked like a mountain of books behind him.

“babe! what are you doing here? and what is with all the books?” you exclaimed, jumping into his arms and hugging him tight.

jun was taken aback by your reaction, his mind stuck on the thought that you were mad at him. “i thought you were upset with the book i got you… so i kind of bought as many as i could fit in my luggage to make up for it,” he said, his cheeks slowly turning red when he realized you really weren’t mad at him.

you pulled your head back and gave him a look, “what made you think i was mad?” you asked, pulling away and starting to pick up the different books that were piling up on your coffee table.

“you called me junhui…” he whispered, saying it out loud made him feel stupid, it was just a name, his name in fact.

“are you saying that you bought me a hundred books because i called you by your first name?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

he nodded his head sheepishly.

“you are too cute!” you exclaimed, giving him another tight hug, “for the record, i’d tell you if i was mad at you,” you made sure to clarify.

“okay…” he said softly, looking at the absurd amount of books, “should i return all of these now, or-” he began to speak before you cut him off.

“absolutely not,” you said quickly, snatching a book and sitting on the couch beginning to read.

jun slowly made his way next to you and laid his head in your lap, getting comfy while you read aloud to him.

hoshi

“honey?” you called out in your apartment, waiting for hoshi to reply to you. you needed help folding the laundry and hoshi was always eager to help you do whatever you needed.

you heard a distant, “give me a minute!” come from your shared bedroom where your boyfriend was no doubt playing video games again.

you rolled your eyes at his response and started folding the laundry on your own, giving him a few minutes before calling for him again. “honey? i need your help out here,” you called again, waiting to hear his footsteps.

but instead you got another, “just a sec!” which made you pull out the big guns. hoshi hated you calling him by his name, he said he sounded like you were scolding him. but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“kwon soonyoung! i said i need your help!” you called out even louder than before, knowing that would get him.

once his name left your mouth you heard fumbling coming from the room and the door opening quickly, his feet slapped against the floor as he ran over to you.

he already had the expression of a kicked puppy, “i told you not to call me that!” he pouted, standing in front of you.

you gave him a look and pointed at the spot on the couch next to you, “sit,” you said simply. of course, he followed with no question.

“‘m sorry!” he whined when you wouldn’t talk to him, “i was doing really well! you know how hard that game is, and we were winning!” he tried to explain, sloppily folding clothes next to you as he rambled.

“soonyoung?” you said, cutting him off with his name again.

“what,” he said with a frown.

“just fold the damn laundry,” you said with a sigh, grabbing the clothes that he had folded and redoing it properly.

“you’re scary when you’re mad…” he whispered, starting to fold every item of clothing meticulously so you didn’t have anything to be upset with.

he spent the rest of the day giving you his undivided attention and trying to make up for making you upset.

when you finally called him ‘honey’ at the end of the night his face lit up and you forgot why you were even mad with him in the first place.

wonwoo

you were out shopping with wonwoo when something caught your eye from the window of a store. you tugged on your boyfriends coat sleeve.

“wonwoo-” you started, but you were quickly cut off.

“try again.” he said simply, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“wonwoo?” you questioned, tugging his arm again and making him stop walking.

“try again.” he repeated, pulling his phone out of his pocket and pretending to scroll on it.

“wonwoo, what are you-” he cut you off once again with a look.

“one more time, sweetheart,” he said, pointing you in the right direction. this made it click in your head and you just scoffed.

“babe?” you tried, finally his attention turned towards you and he showed off his award winning smile.

“yes, sweetheart? what do you need?” he asked, his voice sweet as honey.

“you're impossible,” you laughed, “i want to go into that store,” you pointed at the clothing store next to where you were stopped.

“then let's go,” he grinned, pulling your hand and leading you into the store, “you know if you call me by my name people might not think we're together,” he said as if it was an obvious fact.

“we're literally holding hands and wearing matching outfits,” you pointed out, which just earned a shrug from your boyfriend as he started grabbing different pieces of clothing that he thought would look good on you.

sure, he was a subtle guy, but he wanted everyone to know that you were his.

woozi

“jihoon, i'm home,” you called out into the apartment. you had a meeting that lasted much longer than usual and it was already dark out when you returned.

your boyfriend had been home all day and by the smell of fresh food you could tell that he had been cooking.

you slipped off your shoes in the entry way and tossed your bag on the couch before slipping into the kitchen and coming up behind your boyfriend. you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder while he stirred the pot in front of him.

“jihoon?” he questioned, scrunching up his face at the mention of his full name. he didn't hate when you said his name, you just never did. “what're you calling me that for?” he asked directly, not assuming anything.

“i realized i don't call you by name, do you not like it?”you asked, lifting your head up and looking over at him, your arms still around him.

“i don't mind, i'm just used to baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “or babe,” another kiss, “love, sweetheart, honey, my one and only,” he listed, pressing a kiss to your face in between each pet name.

you couldn't help but smile at the affection you were receiving from your boyfriend, you pressed a few kisses to his cheek in return and let him resume his cooking while you watched from a seat at the island.

“but you're okay with jihoon?” you asked, wanting to make sure.

“i’m okay with you calling me jihoon,” he said, turning over his shoulder to look at you, “but don't use it too much.” he said, giving you a pointed look.

he wouldn't say it out loud but he loved the sweet pet names you gave him, even the ridiculous ones.

minghao

“what did i do?” was the first words your boyfriend uttered when he walked into your shared home.

you looked up from your spot on the couch and tilted your head at him. “what do you mean?” you questioned, not understanding him.

“i mean, i can tell you're mad so i give you permission to yell at me, just tell me what i did first.” minghao said, bracing himself for whatever you would say to him. by no means did you fight often but whenever you got angry at him he would take it.

“i’m not mad at you,” you said, opening your arms, waiting for your boyfriend to join you on the couch. when he didn't come over you deadpanned, “well now i'm mad that you're not cuddling me.” you joked, waiting for him to come over.

he slowly walked over to you and pulled you against his chest, giving you a cautious look.

“then what was up with that text?” he questioned, pulling out his phone, “you said, and i quote, just wait until you get home, minghao,” he recited, “when have you ever called me by my first name?” he said like it was obvious.

“oh! i made your favorite dessert!” you said with a happy smile, pointing to the kitchen where his treat was freshly made and waiting on the counter.

his face went soft at your happy mood and he gave you a short kiss, “thanks, love,“ he said softly, “but your text did not make it sound like that.” he chuckled.

“oh right, i didn't want to give anything away so i called you minghao, was that too mean?” you asked, hoping you didn't make him worry.

he sighed with a smile and shook his head, “just a bit,” he said honestly, “you never call me minghao,” he pouted, half jokingly but also half seriously.

“i’m sorry, love,” you said, kissing his cheek, “i won't scare you like that again,” you teased, jumping up from the couch and pulling him up with you.

“come eat! i made it all for you,” you said with a smile, leading him to the kitchen and plating his dessert with a smile.

mingyu

mingyu had a cold. and when mingyu got sick he got dramatic. he was currently cuddled up in bed while you took care of him.

you would take his temperature, give him medicine, cook him some soup, and keep him as comfortable as possible while you worked from home.

“mingyu, do you want some soup?” you asked softly, pushing his hair off of his forehead and feeling for a temperature.

his eyes shot open and his lip jutted out. “mingyu?” he questioned softly, “why are you calling me mingyu?” his voice wobbled a bit. but can you blame him? he’s a sensitive man.

“because that’s your name, baby, you don’t like it?” you asked, holding his hand, your voice softened at your boyfriend.

he shook his head at your question, he was always ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘gyu’.

“sorry, baby,” you cooed, “but do you want any soup?” you asked again, hoping it would fix his mood.

“don’t want soup, i want a kiss,” he said with a little mischievous smile, then puckering his lips.

you rolled your eyes, he knew you couldn’t say no to him, especially since he was sick and was on the verge of tears after you called him his first name. “you’re such a baby,” you groaned, “if i get sick it’s your fault,” you reminded him.

“then it’ll be my turn to take care of you,” he said as if it was obvious, leaning up a bit and catching your lips with his.

sure, mingyu was a big baby. but he was your big baby.

dk had been stuck in practice all day while you had a free day. so, being the loving and doting partner that you were you decided to make your boyfriend some dinner. which also included making dinner for his 12 bandmates, but you didn’t mind. you were like a big family.

you were let into the building and made your way to their practice room, hands full of bags carrying multiple different containers full of food.

the boys were all sitting around the room during a break and you popped your head inside, leaving the bags in the hallway.

a few people looked over at you when you opened the door, but every head snapped your way when you opened your mouth.

“seokmin?” you asked, which caused some murmurs among the group.

dk couldn’t remember the last time he was called that name.

‘you better fix whatever you did wrong’ ‘why is she mad at you?’ ‘what did you do?’ different members began to ask all at once to your boyfriend, sending him into even deeper of a panic.

he jumped to his feet and made his way over to you. you didn’t look mad at him, but now he was worried. he grabbed your hand and gently pulled you into the hallway and closed the door to the practice room behind you.

“is everything okay? did i leave something on at home? did i forget to take out the trash?” he asked seriously, thinking of what he could’ve possibly done to elicit you calling him his first name.

you gave him a look in response, furrowing your eyebrows at his rambling. “no… i made you guys food,” you explained, pointing to all the bags on the floor by the two of you, “was just asking you to help me bring it in.”

“huh?” your boyfriend questioned, looking at the bags and then back up to you. “why’d you call me seokmin, then? i haven’t heard that name in ages!” he whined, tugging at your hand.

“oh? i texted jeonghan and told him i was coming over, he told me to call you seokmin,” you laughed, not thinking that he was going to take it that much to heart.

dk sighed and grabbed the bags, pecking your cheek, “thank you for dinner,” he said softly, opening the door to go back into the practice room with you trailing behind him.

his members all looked over and started laughing, apparently they were in on it too.

“you guys suck!” he groaned, “i’m keeping all this food to myself now,” he said childishly, hoarding all the bags by the two of you and trying to keep everyone else away.

eventually he caved and you all ate together, everyone thanking you and still poking fun at your boyfriend.

seungkwan

“seungkwan,” you tried to get your boyfriends attention, standing across the kitchen island from him.

his eyes left his phone and found yours, narrowing in the process. he didn’t say anything so you frowned.

“seungkwan?” he continued to stare at you and you grew slightly agitated since he was seemingly ignoring you.

“can you reply?” you asked with an attitude, crossing your arms.

“i’m just waiting for you to get it right,” he said, mirroring your body language and the amount of sass.

his words only confused you more. “get what right? you’re crazy,” you mumbled, basically having a staring contest with him.

seungkwan just scoffed and rolled his eyes, “my name! i’m waiting for you to get my name right,” he said as if it was obvious. “i am not ‘seungkwan’ to you.” he explained, putting his name in quotations with his fingers.

“are you waiting for me to call you sweetie?” you asked finally, a smile slowly starting to spread on your face. your boyfriend may be a little sassy but he was truly a sweetheart.

“maybe,” he replied simply, his arms still crossed as he waited.

you hummed at his response and then made your way around the island to hug him. “alright, sweetie, i was just going to ask where you wanted to eat tonight,” you grinned, pressing a few sweet kisses on his cheek.

his attitude instantly melted away at the pet name and he pulled you closer to him, “wherever you want, angel,” he replied simply.

it was that easy.

vernon

vernon isn't phased by much. but he does get a little salty when you use his first name on him. he says it sounds too much like a mother scolding him. so, of course, you tease him with it sometimes.

“hansol! can you come to the living room?” you called out in your home, not sure which room he was in.

soon you heard his footsteps and he walked into the room with a scrunched up face.

“yes, darling?” he exaggerated his pet name for you, hoping you'd get the hint.

you spun around in a circle and posed, showing off your new outfit to your boyfriend.

“what do you think? you like my new outfit?” you asked with a blinding smile, posing in a few different ways as your boyfriend watched.

“i think it looks lovely, babe,” he exaggerated again.

“thank you, hansol,” you replied with a sweet smile.

“you look gorgeous, sweetheart,” he tried again.

“thank you, hansol,” you repeated, trying to keep your laugh at bay.

“positively perfect, my love.”

“i appreciate it, hansol.”

“absolutely stunning, angel.”

“you’re too kind, hansol.”

“that’s it, i’m ignoring you for the rest of the day.” he finally said after surveying you for a few minutes. he turned on his heel and walked back to your shared bedroom.

“no!” you called after him, “i’m just joking,” you said in between laughs as you walked fast behind him to catch up.

he shrugged his shoulders and sat back down at his desk, continuing his previous task before you had called him to the living room.

“don’t be sulky now, i was teasing,” you pouted, putting your hands on his shoulders and turning his chair to face you.

“it’s fine, y/n,” he said with a grin, now using your own name back as revenge.

“hey! you can’t call me that!” you whined in response.

“watch me.” he smirked, flicking your forehead gently.

oh how the tables have turned.

dino

this man rarely hears his name from anyone. it’s always ‘dino’ from his friends and ‘honey’ from you.

so when you started calling for ‘chan’ while you were asleep it made his heart break.

‘who is chan?’ he thought to himself, you couldn’t be cheating on him with another guy. right? you wouldn’t do that, he knows you.

but still, once the thought got placed into his head (by no one but himself) he couldn’t help but shake it.

the next morning he was nervous, he didn’t know how to confront you, or what he would do if his suspicions were correct. so while you were making breakfast for the two of you he mustered up the courage to go into the kitchen and talk to you.

“good morning, honey,” you said with a cheery smile, noticing him right away as he made his way next to you. you caught his lips with a quick peck but noticed that he seemed a little tense. “something wrong?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

dino just wrung his hands together and frowned. “do you have something to tell me?” he asked softly, already feeling on the verge of tears as he looked down at his feet, not making eye contact with you.

“no? what’s this about?” you asked, turning the heat down on the stove so you could give him more of your attention.

“i just,” he started, “well um…” he tried again, “i heard you talking in your sleep and you were calling out for some guy named ‘chan’ and i know wouldn’t cheat on me or anything but who is chan?” his words spilled out of him and he was talking a mile a minute while you looked at him, your eyes widening.

he was bracing himself for the answer to his question, ready for the worst.

“honey…” you said gently, taking both of his hands in yours and making him look at you, “you are chan.” you explained, trying to hide your smile since he was clearly so distraught.

“huh?” he asked, not understanding what you were getting at.

“honey, your name is lee chan,” you reminded him.

you could see the gears shifting in his head before his cheeks immediately heated up. he snatched his hands from yours and slapped his face. he was chan. and he couldn’t feel any stupider.

he was so used to being honey that he forgot his literal name.

“forget this happened…” he mumbled, walking away as you stifled your laughs.

6K notes · View notes