#I KNOW SORRY I AM TWISTING THE KNIFE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starstruckmoony · 7 months

Note

Hi, could I request a enemies to lovers with Enzo? Love your writing :))

tysm for the request anon!! i am so so sorry for taking ages to post this but i got veryyyyyy carried away and it may or may not be too long BUT i hope you enjoy it and that it's similar enough to what you imagined <3

king of my heart.

masterlist , requests

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x reader

summary - you and lorenzo are both sore, jealous losers with egos the size of jupiter, so you decide that you hate one another and that academic competing is the way to go. you keep that up for six full years, until something rather unfortunate happens and destroys your entire game plan.

trope/tags - enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, angst, fluff

word count - 12.8k

warnings - language, smoking

if there was one thing every single person who ever crossed your path knew about you, even if you were barely acquainted, was that you had sort of been raised without the ability to accept that you cannot always come out on top. it was simply incomprehensible. you'd been told that you were a gifted kid from the moment you became aware of your pathetic little existence. it did wonders to your ego. your smarts and determination amused your tutors, petrified them even. and the better you got, the more motivation it sparked in you.

you intended to keep things going your way when your acceptance letter for hogwarts arrived in the mail. you weren't worried, not even a little bit, and neither were your parents. being the best of the best was a running thing in your family.

unsurprisingly, it couldn't have started off better. your professors loved you. other kids envied you. each essay and exam result you'd ever recieved was the textbook definition of perfect. your grades were nicer that aphrodite's reflection in the mirror, as hermione had told you once. it was a lot coming from her. she was also amongst the few of the smartest, most hardworking students in your year, but you never felt threatened by her, or anybody else for that matter. there was, weirdly, no jealousy. on her part, at least, considering you so very effortlessly secured your spot as top of the class and never let anybody take it. she'd always be happy for you like the good friend she was, proudly patting you on the back, yet you couldn't help but think if she ever felt a little angry behind that supportive smile of hers.

and funny enough, you were finally able to stop pretending to know what it was like one fine wednesday before the christmas holidays. you had come into class more confident than ever that morning, smugly waiting for your potions essay results. you were hoping for a hundred, but a ninety nine, maybe even a ninety eight, didn't seem so bad either. that would have been, if lorenzo berkshire hadn't got his essay back with a score better than yours. he, much like yourself, was just another sore loser who craved academic validation like a drug, silently fuming whenever somebody surpassed him. he had dealt it with for months, watching you ace everything from charms to transfiguration, and always being second to you. the jealousy consumed his entire being, and he was kind of going mental, so you one could only imagine how ecstatic he was when he saw your face twist with dread after snape praised him in front of everybody. he wouldn't have hidden that mocking grin on his face if you held a knife to his throat and it made you want to choke him to death, for lack of better term.

"l/n." he sang as he successfully caught you in the corridor right after the said lesson. twat. you ignored him and increased the speed of your steps, biting the inside of your cheek, so hard that it began to sting. you didn't instantaneously realise how desperate he was to get your attention, but it became a lot clearer when he stood in front of you, entirely blocking your path. your little attempts to confuse him and avoid the situation were useless. it was kind of pathetic.

"what do you want?" simply shoving him to the ground and acting like it never happened would have done the job, but god forbid you swallowed your pride for once.

"c'mon, don't be so pissy, i'm just trying to make conversation." you saw right through him, anyone would. him? wanting to make conversation with you? after death-glaring you every lesson for three months straight? and then bursting your bubble and being so smug about it? you almost scoffed, "you're in my way."

"oh, my apologies." he moved to the side and bowed dramatically, waiting for you to leave. you rolled your eyes, and took a single step forward, just to have him come right back to his original spot.

"move." you tried to shove him and even attempted to run for it, but he was faster than you. your nostrils flared, "you know that today was just dumb luck, right?" you crossed your arms, thinking you'd get under his skin, but there was no sign of change on his face. on the contrary, he was more accomplished than ever. you were fuming.

"i wouldn't call it that." he tilted his head to the side, observing your face.

"alright then," you copied his movements, "plagiarism?" his smile fell a little. it made you a lot happier than it should have. you expected victory from that senseless squabble, but lorenzo wasn't the type of person who backed down so easily. that was something you should have known.

"you're projecting." he shrugged, blankly staring at you.

"projecting?" you almost stuttered.

"projecting. pick up a dictionary, yeah?" he gave your head a tiny pat, and left you standing in the hallway, dumbfounded, angry, and a little humiliated.

that moment alone set off a feud that changed the trajectory of your miserable lives forever. each time he did better than you, whether it was on an essay, an exam, flying lessons even, your urge to wipe his existence of the face of the earth got stronger. the feelings were mutual on his part. you went back and forth like that for a while, trying not to be that obvious about it, but one could only hide their true feelings for so long.

it started off with hushed insults, which got strategically thrown around every time you'd cross each other's path. having other people notice your diminishing confidence was proper nightmare fuel, so you kept it as subtle as possible. then it turned into shoving and pushing, which was enough to set off some alarm bells in the heads of your friends. neville had told you that it wasn't worth it, and draco, of all fucking people, had told lorenzo to tone it down, but you refused to listen. you offered a few empty promises, saying that you'll sort it out sooner or later (sort out as in make sure you never let lorenzo get a score higher than yours again, but that was not going to happen).

your sooner or later turned into a few godawfully long years. saying you hated him may have seemed like an overstatement, but there was no other way to describe that burning feeling of i want to fucking kill you that entirely took over you whenever you laid your eyes on him. it kept getting worse and worse, without you realising just how bad it had become. your little competitions had completely lost their significance. it didn't matter who was first anymore. it could be ron or pansy, and you wouldn't bat an eye. all you cared about was surpassing each other, even if you were among the average with your scores.

that being said, it became an open secret of sort. as stupid as you made your classmates out to be, they were not, and they quickly put the missing puzzle pieces together. one of them spread a rumour that you tried to kill lorenzo, or vice versa, you couldn't really remember. and frankly, you couldn't blame them. you had given them more than enough reasons to think that you hated his guts. the most ridiculous instance had to have been the one during potions class when snape assigned you to work together. you could have placed a bet of two million galleons that he did it on purpose. it was like he wanted you to fail.

lorenzo had managed to insult you before he even took a seat at your table, calling you too stupid to work with in front of the entire class. you told him that he was a daft idiot when he unwillingly slumped down into the empty seat next to you, which had only set him off more. you accepted your fates almost immediately, knowing that whatever task snape assigned to you wouldn't be done, even if it cost you your grades.

just like you predicted, you did everything but what you were supposed to; spilled every sort of liquid there was all over each other's things, broke a few glasses, set two notebooks on fire, and burnt a hole in the table. you had stuck him to his chair, too, and lost a few house points as a result.

***

a sane person would have reached a certain point and stopped, pushing all of those stupid grudges aside. forgive and forget, that whole talk. hopelessly, your friends thought you would have got over it as you were growing older and that you would have chosen basic human decency over some hurt feelings and an insignificant competition no one gave a shit about. but no. you were not sane. you were ruthless, and you continued trying to make each other miserable like your lives depended on it. you hated lorenzo berkshire, and he hated you just as much. you were too naive and caught up in it all to realise that it'll come right back for you later.

it was like some sick obsession. from obvious sabotaging during classes whenever you got assigned to work together (followed by unsatisfactory results you blamed the other for) to throwing insults at each other in the corridors where everybody was set to hear you, you had checked every single one off.

you called him a useless arsehole on a daily basis. he called you an insufferable bitch every time he saw you. you had cursed out each other during lessons and done even worse things when nobody was looking. and if anyone did see you and try to get involved and call you names, it was bad news for them. you were each other's enemies to insult and demean and degrade and ruthlessly bully, nobody else's. only you were allowed to call him a cockroach, and only he was allowed to call you a snake. your relationship with lorenzo was nothing you could explain to somebody with a fully functioning brain, even if you tried.

one night in your fifth year, you had successfully snuck out in search of some sort encyclopaedia to help you out with your DADA assignment. none of the books which you were allowed to use did good enough of a job at making it easier, so you were hoping that the restricted section would have something better to offer - which it did. you couldn't recall the last time your trip to the library was that short.

to make things even better, you successfully avoided bumping into an annoying brunette who made your life oh so entertaining (unbearable). lorenzo wasn't anywhere to be seen. you smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of freedom at last. you were praying that the prick got bored of looming around the corridors all alone like a loser, waiting to terrorise you.

you began humming a tune you heard dean play on his old gramophone (one that got confiscated), and skipped around the corner to make your way to the grand staircase. mistake number one. you tripped over something, someone, but managed to stay on your feet as opposed to falling face-first onto the ground. you didn't even have to look back to know who it was.

"my, my, out rebelling again?" lorenzo leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking in satisfaction when he noticed how you were grimacing. he stepped on one of the books you dropped, refusing to move when you tried to snatch it back.

"do you mind?" you spat, aggressively pulling it from under his foot. you straightened out your clothes and dusted yourself off before tucking the literature you had picked up under your arm.

"stealing?" he raised an eyebrow.

"borrowing." you corrected.

"without permission?" he tilted his head to the side in faux amusement, "i wonder what would happen if i alerted a professor about this."

"and you'd tell them what?" you scoffed, barely able to hold your laughter in, "that you saw me stealing while you were sneaking out to go for a casual wank?" what a fucking idiot. you rolled your eyes, turning away from him with the intention to walk away from the scene. you were not in the mood for his bullshit.

"yeah, yeah, run away like you always do." he uttered in disappointment, yawning. he knew exactly which buttons to push, and it wasn't surprising. you were familiar with each other's habits and emotions more than you'd like to admit. you stopped in your tracks. sighing, you set the books down onto the stone tiles, and spun around to face him once again.

"aguamenti." you cast the spell with an evil smile, and in a matter of seconds, a wave of water was shot straight in lorenzo's direction, leaving him soaking wet. he gasped out in shock; his clothes clung to his body. the water was unbearably cold, it was so fucking freezing, he could barely move. the commotion was noisy enough to alert filch and his beloved ms. norris, but those were the last of your worries. your felt rather fulfilled, that was what mattered.

"you asked for it." you shrugged, but did not turn your back on him just yet. that would have been the easiest way for him to attack, so you mistakenly waited, thinking he would strike for you. he dug his wand out of his pocket, and muttered a spell, "vermiculus."

you whipped your head in the direction in which he pointed his hand, realising what happened a second too late. he had turned your precious books into worms. you yelped in surprise and stepped away from the disgusting mess on the ground, your back bumping into his chest. you turned to face him and gave him a harsh push, backing him up into the wall and shoving your wand into his face.

"uncast it." you demanded. he laughed. how stupid did you have to be to even think that he'd listen to you, "no."

"berkshire." your words came out louder than expected. you wouldn't have been shocked if you saw a teacher coming around the corner to reprimand the both of you for looming around so late, but you didn't care.

"undo the damn spell." you repeated, just about ready to strangle him if you deemed it necessary.

"no." he pushed you away and took a hold of his own wand. he tried to disarm you, but failed miserabley. two could play at that game, then "stupif-"

"what's going on here?" filch's scratchy voice stopped you mid-spell. your head snapped towards him, and you instinctively stuck your wand inside of your clothes as if he hadn't already seen it. being too preoccupied by trying to come up with an explanation that you hadn't previously used to get yourself out of trouble, you had forgotten about the slimy creatures crawling on the floor. a worm wiggled towards you, too close for comfort, and you scrambled to get away, clumsily bumping into lorenzo once again. he gave you a somewhat gentle shove to get you away, and you kicked him in response, right in the shin.

"she tried to drown me." he explained with an irritated groan, rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

"he destroyed school property." you added dramatically, wishing to kick him one more time. filch's eyes trailed over to the filth beside your feet, and he made a face of disgust before instructing you both to follow him to dumbledore's office.

the whole ordeal ended with the books being safely returned to their spot on the shelves of the restricted section, a half-assed DADA assignment and the two of you getting put on bathroom cleaning duty for seven days straight (no magic allowed). it was probably the biggest mistake of dumbledore's life.

the bathrooms were not cleaned properly once. in fact, they'd only end up in conditions which were about ten times worse than their default ones. lorenzo was too busy spilling bucketfuls of water, dirty or clean, all over you to care whether he scrubbed the junk off every single sink there was (payback for the stunt you pulled on him in the corridor), and you were too busy hitting him with funny smelling toilet brushes (made sure you got all that rubbish into his hair, too) to polish the tiles and mirrors to perfection like you were told to do. it was disgusting and sickeningly entertaining at once. dumbledore considered punishing you with some other method, but gave up seeing what the boys' toilets looked like after night four. not even detention was able to come between the two of you. limits and common sense weren't either.

***

in your sixth year, the unimaginable happened. there wasn't a single soul who saw it coming, not even yourselves. maybe it was magic. maybe it was a sign from the universe. maybe some higher power did everybody justice. whatever it was, it sent your professors into a spiral. their shitty damage control was finally paying off, as cruel as it turned out to be.

classes had become increasingly more difficult than they were in previous years. to follow, to manage, to keep track of, and everything in between. mcgonagall had pulled you outside twice, asking you what was wrong after she had noticed that you were falling behind. many of your peers were, actually, but nobody would have ever expected it from you. the results you'd achieve weren't always as perfect as they were in your first year, though you had never struggled to get past eighty points until then. it was singlehandedly the worst thing that could have ever happened to you. priorities were hard to sort out, so there was a noticeable decline in your performance. you were absolutely miserable, and it did not get better, only worse. so bad that you had forgotten that you had a certain slytherin to compete with.

it was the day before halloween night, lessons had come to an end. your friends scattered around different places – some to the great hall, some to hogsmeade, some headed straight to bed, all intending to clear their minds after a stressful week of difficult assignments and dreadfully challenging essays. nearly every student left the transfiguration classroom with a relieved smile, happy that even their low scores ensured them a pass. hermione got a ridiculous amount of praise for her outstanding results, and even an encouraging pat on the back from mcgonagall.

so, a wonderful end of october for everybody but yourself. your expectations weren't high when you handed your toughest essay in. you thought you'd get sixty points at best. not hoping for much, yet still trying to ignore the worst possible outcome - one that was bound to get you someday like proper karma. but that wouldn't actually happen, would it? there was no way. it was impossible. you felt like a bloody idiot.

you failed. you fucking failed. for the first time in your life. and it was much more humiliating than you had imagined. you were so upset with yourself that you hadn't even bothered to pester lorenzo about his results, and strangely, he hadn't approached you either. no glances, no death glares, no hushed insults. not during the lesson, not after.

you left the transfiguration classroom trying your hardest not to cry, ignoring all of your friends and wishing to get out of the castle as soon as possible. you needed to be alone. you weren't looking for anybody's comfort, validation or their empty words of sympathy that would lose their meaning the moment you fixed the mess you were in. so you went to the black lake; where very little people preferred spending time, where you could be at peace with your own thoughts, and where you could catch a much needed break, even if it was only for a little while.

you slumped down onto the grass with a thump, bringing your knees up to your chest and letting your tears fall. you failed. for merlin's sake, you failed. it was like everything you had ever known was suddenly gone. you weren't even worried about what your parents or professors would say. truthfully, you couldn't give less of a damn. you were so disappointed that you had blocked out everything and everyone else, or whatever stupid opinion and solutions they might have had to offer. everyone, except for lorenzo and that dumb game you two were, for an even dumber reason, still playing. he must have been oh so happy to hear about your failure. he'd never let you live it down, you knew it.

"l/n?" speak of the fucking devil. he always had fantastic timing.

"get out of my sight before i throw you into the lake." you spat, wiping your tear-stained face with your sleeve, not looking at him.

"shiver me timbers." he sang, not feeling threatened at all.

"berkshire." you warned, turning your head towards him and meeting his gaze. you shouldn't have moved. worry flashed through his face for a brief moment when he caught a glimpse your puffy eyes, and he pressed his lips together, guilty. could he actually bring himself to pester you while you were in such a terrible condition? no, he couldn't, regardless of the resentment he felt towards you.

he cleared his throat and took a step closer. you sighed, staring back at the landscape spread out in front of you without uttering a word, "what happened?" he questioned hesitantly.

"nothing that concerns you." you attempted to shut him down. he raised both of his eyebrows, a little amused, "someone upset my favourite rival," he scoffed, "of course it concerns me."

you rolled your eyes, "just leave, will you?" but did you really want him to? your voice shook as you spoke. you despised the part of you that was wishing for him to stay. you wanted to be alone more than anything, but you knew you'd break down again if he listened to your plea and left you there. you'd take his overused insults over failure any day.

"not until you tell me what happened." your jaw clenched, and you muttered a quiet curse, knowing that he most likely wouldn't let up. as if that one would miss out on an opportunity to annoy you. he settled down in the grass, right next to you, waiting.

you sat in silence for what felt like forever. he didn't push you to speak again, and you were pretty reluctant to say a single thing. not even calling him names seemed tempting. you sighed for the nth time, starting to tear up again, "i got my essay back with thirty points." you sniffled, silently preparing yourself to get made fun of.

"fuck," you heard him mumble, and he scratched his head shortly before speaking, "if it makes you feel better, i got twenty eight." getting on your nerves was always in his best interest. although, having to see you so seriously upset was not on his bucket list, not anymore. you stared at him in shock, frowning, "what?"

he nodded. the look on his face was so sullen that you were starting to believe him, "are you not taking the piss?"

he snorted, "i wish i was," he avoided your gaze, "i, uh," he pursed his lips in thought, letting out a breath of frustration, "i was convinced i'd do well even if i started last minute... without research, but uh, guess i was wrong." you hummed, doubtful.

"why are you telling me all this?" you shook your head and trailed your eyes back to the lake, finding it rather difficult to believe that he was being so... nice. it was your first normal conversation and you had no clue what to make of it.

"who else am i supposed to tell it to?" he responded, annoyed. you bit the inside of your cheek, just as irritated, picking up a pebble. you examined it shortly before throwing it into the water.

lorenzo watched you curiously, having very little to say, which was terribly weird in itself. lorenzo berkshire not having a single unnecessary, offending comment to offer? your failures had truly taken a toll on you, completely.

"i can't believe we both fell off." you said in wonder, throwing another rock below the surface.

"right," he agreed, without an urge to backtalk, "fucking hell, i've no reason to hate you now." he blurted out, horrified by his own words.

"fantastic, now i suck at that too." you let out a dry, emotionless chuckle. you weren't crying anymore, just silently fuming at lorenzo for being the one to stop it without even properly trying.

"you suck at everything." he corrected.

"i take after you." you retorted nonchalantly.

"dumbass." he bit back a smile.

"dickhead." you were struggling just as hard. holding in your laughter was never more challenging, but you were determined not to break character.

you found yourselves in an eerily comfortable silence. by the looks of it, things would be alright. knowing that he messed up too somehow put you at ease. not even because you were happy to him fail, but more at the thought that it just happened to be at the same time as you. you found a certain dose of comfort in it. it was written in the stars, as it seemed.

"get lost now." you broke the bubble you found yourselves in. it was about time you got back on track. there was no way you'd get all friendly and gushy with him, even after whatever that was.

"alright, alright." he stood up, groaning as he did so. he dusted off the pieces of grass that got stuck to his trousers.

he stared back at the lake shortly, waiting to see if you'd say anything else he could offer a witty response to. he was a bit sad when you didn't, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, sighing, "well, i shall see you-"

"never." you finished that for him.

"perfect." he added, turning on his heel and heading towards the castle. you allowed yourself to glimpse at him one last time, simply not being able to let him have the last word.

"you've got some on your arse." you were talking about the remainder of the grass that was stuck to his clothing. he stopped to clean it up, and then flipped you off wordlessly.

you thought that was the last of your civilised interactions. there was no reason for you to bore your mind with it. you happened to fall behind at the same time and it gave you a decent bonding moment, but it was nothing more than that. just two people who claimed they didn't like one another very much talking properly for once. nothing, it was nothing. simple as that. so you weren't able to pinpoint why you kept looking back on it nearly every day, or why you felt so guilty for calling him stupid and useless, or why making fun of him for getting a lower score than you wasn't rewarding anymore, or why competing so fiercly was no longer satisfactory. and why he too, happened to feel just the same. maybe you had grown out of it.

you blamed it on the stress. you did have lots of different things occupying your mind anyway - such as your major arithmancy exam that you decided to pull an all nighter for.

for the first time in a while, you stayed inside the library past closing hours. madam pince wasn't too happy about it, but she liked you enough to let you crash there and warned filch not to throw you outside if he happened to notice you during his nightly patrol. the woman had some interesting tactics up her sleeve, none of which you ever questioned.

you swore, probably for the tenth time in the past two minutes, crumpling up yet another piece of parchment. you had to start over a ridiculous amount of times. the pile of rubbish on the floor was growing larger by the second. ripped up paper, bottles of ink, broken feathers, it was definitely a sight. there was no way you were getting through all of that on your own. and oh how that angered you. you rarely ever needed assistance with anything, but this was just a little bit above your level. that enraged you even more. a helping hand was starting to sound promising.

"you're still here?" you didn't even flinch, knowing all too well who that voice belonged to. did god or the devil just answer your prayers? you never got past your little habits of leaving the dormitories to do whatever there was to be done around the castle almost every night, so there he went, running into you again. lorenzo peeked out from behind the bookshelves in front of you, smiling like a little kid who was just about to do something egregiously silly. you couldn't not grin back, despite being angry.

"you're still here?" you repeated his question, crossing your arms.

"i asked first." he moved towards your desk, pulling out an empty chair and settling there next to you without even asking if you wanted him there. weird, that one.

"alright, and?" you teased further. he bumped your shoulder with his own. he wanted something. punching him suddenly sounded like a fine option. he looked over your arm to examine your notes.

"arithmancy?" he glared at you, kind of bemused. it was another subject he was that awfully good at, unlike you. you weren't terrible, but not exactly the best either. an infuriating thing.

"my favourite." you responded sarcastically, throwing your quill across the table. he hummed, sitting back in his chair, but not taking his eyes off of you. he definitely wanted something.

"what?" you could sense it already. he was gonna mock you again.

"do you need help with that, perhaps?" or maybe not. you looked at him, skeptical.

"from you?" you raised an eyebrow.

"well, i mean, yeah." he shifted in his spot, as if he was anxious. you did a double take, and then burst out laughing, wiping away a non-existent tear. he was just too damn funny. him helping you? that was a good one. you carried on with that little performance of yours for the next minute until it hit you that he wasn't joking.

"are you serious?" you asked, just to confirm. there was absolutely no chance.

"look, i can leave-" he stood up, "no," you grabbed a fistful of his sweater and pulled him back down. he yelped, startled, "what's your deal?" you weren't letting him get away with that so easily.

"what do you mean?" he was geniuenly confused.

"don't play fucking dumb," you jabbed a finger into his chest, "why are you being so kind to me all of a sudden?"

he laughed uncomfortably, scratching the nape of his neck, "well, i thought, you know, since it seems like we're no longer on about hating each other, that-"

"oh." you interrupted him, chuckling in disbelief. you shook your head, rubbing your temples in frustration and then letting your arms fall to your sides, "look, berkshire, just because i'm not trying to kill you anymore doesn't mean i want to be friends."

"what!? for fuck's sake, you're impossible." he stood up once more, this time darting out of your reach.

"here we go again." you rolled your eyes. you just couldn't interact without quarreling, could you? he paced around inbetween the bookshelves before returning to your table, "you're not exactly giving me any reasons to be nice right now."

"i never asked of you to be nice." you argued.

"you could appreciate me trying." he retorted. you had no idea what on earth he was trying to achieve. you could only think of so many explanations, "why? so that you could gain my trust and then stab me in the back when it's convenient for you?"

"that's what this is about?" he muttered something under his breath, "i thought we were past that rubbish."

you wanted to laugh hysterically, "okay, we may have pushed the resentment aside, but you can't exactly expect me to trust you."

he understood that, unbeknownst to you, "i never said that you needed to trust me," he sighed, leaning over the table, "listen, i offered to help you because i can see you're struggling. i'm not here to sabotage you if that's what you're worried about. i'd be wasting my time." he straightened his posture, standing there with his arms crossed.

"because i'm already terrible enough and don't need anyone's interference to properly fuck up, right?" you were prepared to tell him to bugger off if he refused to give you the answer you were looking for, furious at him and yourself.

he paused, hesitant. you were so fucking stubborn, and he loved you for it, "correct." alright then.

you picked up your quill, "sit down."

you got your exam back with a shocking score of eighty-nine, surpassing even hermione. not lorenzo, but you were second, and that was enough to have your ego flying right back through the roof.

i told you you could do it, he said, but not without me, he had to point out. you had to give him that. how could you not? he casually decided to save your life without you even asking for it. if it weren't for him, you most likely would have majorly fucked up on that exam. that's not saying that it wasn't difficult. he had no patience and you had even less, but you had somehow survived that night in the library without biting each other's heads off or getting into any additional fights. he even followed you back to your dorm, an offer he didn't allow you to refuse and one that you were too exhausted to complain about.

in the few weeks that followed, you decided that it was for the best that you block out whatever happened between you that night. christmas holidays were approaching, and you couldn't let that ruin your mood. lorenzo told you that mattheo said that it was a shift in the matrix. you had no idea what that meant, it sounded horrifyingly muggle, but you agreed for the sake of agreeing. a shift in the matrix, bloody nonsense. a coincidence, you called it. an accident, even. an accident that helped you out tremendously and made you reconsider lorenzo on nights when you couldn't sleep, but still an accident.

who were you kidding? something had definitely changed. other students started noticing it too.

you had gradually become somewhat friendly rivals who'd rub their own success into each other's faces for the laughs till they got threatened with a jinx or tickled to death. some occasional name calling too, just not as intense. but you weren't friends. nothing near it. you had done a pretty good job at convincing yourself you never would be. treating him a little better than usual was the farthest you'd go trying to mend all those years of jealousy and grudges. that was what you started living by, pushing away that strange tingling sensation that would coarse through you every time his hands happened to brush against yours when you walked side by side.

it is exactly why you almost spilled acidic liquid all over the table and burnt a hole in it again when he sat next to you during potions one fine afternoon.

snape was visibly mortified by the sight, partially because of that incident from two years prior (when you almost set the entire classroom on fire), and partially because he couldn't believe that mcgonagall was actually onto something when she purposefully failed you both. it would go down in history as one of the most ridiculous moments of his career. he sent a warning glare your way before beginning the lesson.

"excuse you?" you whispered once professor snape finally turned his back to the class, raising both of your eyebrows in question. was lorenzo asking to get violated?

"harry took my seat." he pointed towards the table where he usually sat. and shockingly enough, there was harry, sitting next to draco, for whatever sick and twisted reason. you gaped at them, then at lorenzo. not looking into that deeper was maybe for the better.

okay then. you didn't respond, trying to get into taking some notes like you were previously instructed. that would have been easy (it was for the first quarter of the lesson), if lorenzo's presence wasn't keeping you so alert, stopping you from focusing on what you deemed more important, "merlin, can you breathe a little quieter?" you snapped.

he purposely inhaled louder than he normally would, grinning proudly when your eyes rolled back into your brain. you kicked him under the table. he yelped, but oddly, covered it up with a cough. you glared at him, doubtful. that was not the reaction you were expecting to get.

you resumed trying to copy the crucial bits from the chapter snape assigned you all to analyse, very poorly. it was kind of impossible. you weren't used to having lorenzo sit so close to you for such an extended amount of time. ignoring him was unimaginably hard. your notes had never looked worse. words missing, constant mistakes, sensless scribbles. you reached for a new pot of ink after seeing that you had run out, and then felt his finger poke at your side.

you flinched, catching a glimpse of your professor who's head was still buried in the pile of assignments he needed to grade. he hadn't noticed you. good. but then lorenzo did it again, right where you were most ticklish, because he knew. you swatted his hand away, not missing the way he smiled to himself. little shit.

you reached to poke him too, and when you tried to pull away, he took a hold of your wrist, not letting go. he had a lot of good defense tactics up his sleeve. you didn't try to yank your arm out of his grip instantly, which was the perfect opportunity for him to tickle at your side with his free hand. this time, you held back a startled giggle, kicking him under the table one more time. he snorted, resuming his little game.

you were both sweating trying not to make too much noise, but neither of you was letting up, not letting the other have the satisfaction of winning. he eventually moved his chair closer to yours with the excuse to tickle you more effectively. your legs were touching under the table, but only because it was easier for you to kick him that way. it went on for at least fifteen minutes, until snape finally lifted his head, his eyes on the class. you separated, thinking you were being slick about it, when it was the least fitting explanation for what had been going on. the two of you had your lips pressed together, trying not to laugh. your professor could only sigh in response. at least you didn't set anything ablaze.

hermione tucked her arm under yours in the hallway when your lesson ended, grinning mischevously, "would you like to tell me what happened just now?"

you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully, "huh? i don't know what you're on about." you played dumb, despite knowing exactly what she was getting at. and you had no idea why. it's not like you had anything to hide.

"i think you do." she pushed. there was not a chance for you to get out of that conversation.

"really? i truly don't." you still tried, though. acting foolish was your only escape route.

"y/n." she dragged out, laughing and pulling you along with her. potions were your final lesson of the day, so you were already able to picture her desperate attempts to pull some information out of you all the way until bedtime.

"what? we were just fighting." you finally gave in. you knew you would have to eventually, but you loved your free time a little too much to let her annoying interrogation tactics drag on for so long.

"so you do know what i'm on about." she teased, scarily invested.

"what else could you possibly be on about?" you snapped, pushing away that uncomfortable feeling that settled in your chest. you had no reason not to tell her anything, so you couldn't pinpoint why you were feeling so guilty all of a sudden.

"the way you two sat closer together than every couple in our year?" she exclaimed, astonished by how shamelessly you were avoiding the subject.

you gasped, feeling a bit offended, or maybe called out. you couldn't tell which one it was, "that is not what happened." that was an overexaggaration if you ever heard one. was she out of her bloody mind? sometimes you thought that she enjoyed setting you off as much as lorenzo did.

you stepped through the portrait hole with the rest of your housemates, pushing through the crowd to get your dormitories faster. you wanted a nice shower, some peace and quiet for reading, and then decent sleep. it was that simple. you survived the walk through the common room without anyone asking additional invasive questions, immediately heading for the toilet once you arrived to your dorm.

you really needed that shower. it made you feel whole again. you stepped out after putting some comfortable clothes on, skipping over to your bed and then cursing out loud when you realised what was on it. amongst your own, there was lorenzo's fucking book. you had accidentally taken it when you scrambled to collect your things once class ended.

you could have just given it to him tomorrow, or not given it back at all. like he'd know who took it. it was incredibly tempting, but it also felt unnecessarily mean. what if he needed it to study that night? you brushed it off, not like it was your problem anyway. you sat down onto the mattress, picking up a novel from your nightstand and throwing the other books straight to the carpet so you could comfortably settle on your bed. you then put it back. you didn't feel like reading anymore. you laid there, thinking. peace was never an option in your world.

you groaned, snatching his book up from the floor and venturing back into the common room. you hadn't bothered to explain yourself to anybody, and you continued trotting over to the dungeons with a neutral expression on your face (neutral as in i am very much internally raging and if anybody tries to talk to me i might use the imperius curse on them). very useless it was, that relaxing shower of yours.

none of the slytherins lounging on the sofa questioned you, your appearance was pretty telling. good thing you ran into mattheo on the way there. getting in wouldn't have been so easy otherwise. you disappeared in the direction of their dormitories, stopping right in front of lorenzo's door. you swallowed harshly, begenning to get nervous. something was wrong with you.

you hesitated before knocking, tapping your foot against the ground furiously as you waited. "one second!" lorenzo yelled from the other side. it sounded like something had fallen over. the noise was followed by a few curse words and some shuffling before the door opened.

much to your dismay, you were met with a bare chested lorenzo, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers which loosely hung around his hips. his hair was wet, and his cheeks were a tinted with a light shade of pink. he had stepped out of the shower merely three minutes before you showed up. you inhaled sharply, swallowing the sound of surprise that almost escaped you and feeling your face heat up. his eyes went wide, given that he was taken aback much like yourself. you were the last person he was expecting to find on the other side of the door.

"hi." he greeted awkwardly, pulling his trousers up a bit as if it would help. you opened your mouth to speak, then closed it. opened it, before closing it again. you were pretty sure you resembled a damn fish. whatever was happening to you, you did not like it one bit.

"i- you- we- ithinkthisisyours." you finally spluttered, slamming the book into his chest. his hand touched yours momentarily when he grabbed it so that it wouldn't drop onto your feet. you felt lightheaded.

lorenzo was kind of freaking out, but only kind of, not even bothering to look at what you had given him at first. he was a little too busy staring at your blushing face, wondering what the hell was going on and why his heart was in his throat all of a sudden, "are you alright?" he queried, concerned.

"i am perfectly fine." that was a lie.

"ah," he nodded, then eyed the piece of literature in his hands shortly as he slowly figured what it was, "oh! thank you."

you laughed in misery, "okay!" before shutting the door in your own face. you tripped and almost fell down the stairs as you ran, still flushed and your heart beating in a way that you found a little too unusual to push away.

you received a few judgemental glares from the students you had run past. the question marks were practically visible above their heads. you were too busy going hysterical to sneer at them for staring. you burst through the door of your dorm, breathless and blushing, "what the fuck?"

somewhere back inside the dungeons, a confused lorenzo turned to face his friends, still holding the book you had given to him. he had no idea what on earth happened, or why you reacted the way you did, or why he, deep down, found it more adorable than he'd like to admit. he groaned, falling face-first onto his bed. what the fuck, indeed. christmas holidays never looked more promising.

and oh how you regretted waiting for them with so much anticipation. you were supposed to get a break. from books, assignments, essays, whatever lorenzo was doing to you. hogwarts was supposed to be all yours. you weren't heading home that year. it was your parents' twentieth anniversary, so there was no point in going back, considering that you wouldn't see them (you didn't exactly have friends in your hometown either). they'd be having the time of their lives in the alps, and you'd be regretting every decision you had made up until that point.

not only because you were already bored out of your mind waiting for your friends to return, but because you saw lorenzo sitting at the slytherin table when you walked into the great hall on christmas eve. the image of him opening the door two weeks prior flashed through your mind. it happened often, in the most inconvenient situations too. you were hoping you didn't look too flushed.

"what are you doing here?" he questioned in amusement once you trotted over to him, an equally puzzled expression on your face. "i could ask you the same thing."

"all in good time." he cleared his throat, awkward. it was weird, but you didn't think much of it just yet. instead you sighed, taking a quick look around, and then speaking, "my parents ditched me for a skiing trip."

he snorted, motioning over to the very empty seat beside him. you sat down, no thoughts behind it. he was the only person among the ones who stayed for the holidays who you knew enough to hold a conversation, so it's not like you had better options. besides, that was your chance to see if there was more to his sudden change in behaviour. you were unnerved at the idea of even having the desire to do such a thing.

"what's your excuse?" you reached over his arm to grab a piece of toast, as well as some jam and chocolate spread.

"parents as well." you didn't miss the way he shifted uncomfortably. you put down your knife and propped your arms on the table, eyeing him expectantly. he held back shortly, and you couldn't blame him. who were you to think that he'd trust you with a possible family issue?

"i was told that i'm a disappointment and i'm not allowed home until i get my grades in tact." he stabbed the bacon in his plate aggressively, not looking at you. your jaw dropped in shock.

"in tact?" you uttered in disbelief. it was practically common knowledge that lorenzo exceeded you in a lot of subjects, a little more than half of them actually, so in your mind, this shouldn't have even been a problem. he was one of the top students. everybody knew that. your parents expected you to do well too, but they weren't that pushy or strict. yeah, receiving a howler for momentarily falling behind in october was aggravating, but nothing that you couldn't bear. lorenzo's, however, were crossing a line.

he hummed, picking at his food, "don't say anything." he sighed, it almost sounded like a plea. he couldn't just ask you for comfort, or ask of you to understand. faux sympathy was the last thing he needed.

"no, it's just–" you chewed on the inside of your cheek and picked up your knife again, spreading some jam over the piece of toast you grabbed previously, "you're not a disappointment, that's bullshit." you bit into the crunchy bread, chewing it slowly, a sour expression on your face. lorenzo went a bit red, stumbling over his words before getting out a clumsy i know, followed by a hesitant thanks anyway.

you said nothing for the remaining few minutes of breakfast, just eating in silence while other students chatted in background. when you were exiting the great hall together to return to your respective dorms, you made eye contact with mcgonagall for a brief moment. she offered you a proud smile, yet with a hint of mischief behind it. you had never been more confused.

you spent the first half of christmas day alone in the gryffindor common room, reading some trashy muggle romance novel you found under hermione's bed a couple of nights before. it was one of the worst books you had ever picked up, but there was something so annoyingly addicting about it that you just couldn't give it up. it left you feeling empty and lonely, and with a strong desire to fling yourself straight into the depths of the black lake.

"christ, l/n, why do you look so sullen?" you shut your eyes, exhaling through your nose. just what you needed. you weren't even gonna question lorenzo was doing there. you had a clue.

"you don't wanna know." you tossed the book across the room, internally celebrating when he decided not to investigate further.

he made a face, "merry christmas?"

"likewise." you replied blandly. when you didn't tell him to get lost, he jumped onto the sofa, getting comfortable next to you. he didn't look all too happy either.

you sat there for good twenty minutes, staring at the fire like your entire worlds were crumbling in front of your eyes. it didn't occur to the either of you how awful it would feel to spend christmas all alone for the first time. no presents, no childhood foods, no hugs from mum in the morning. you even missed your spoiled cousins who would nag you to play with them each time you visited their house on boxing day.

it fucking sucked, but god, at least lorenzo was there. you'd push aside everything that happened between you in the previous years just for a twinge of affection. something came over you, and you lowered your head onto his shoulder, almost sighing in relief when he didn't shove you away. he scooted closer and rested his head on top of yours, not speaking.

from that moment onward, you saw each other every day. he'd show up at your dorm at random moments and you'd show up at his at even worse ones. you'd take walks in the snow together and come back with soaking wet clothes and red noses. you'd smoke in the courtyard before bed after making sure the coast was clear. you'd go to hogsmeade and fight over who was gonna pay for the butterbeer until you came up with a nonsensical compromise. you'd sneak out at night to steal books from the restricted section of the library and then read them under covers in the slytherin dorms. you'd sometimes fall asleep next to each other and then act like nothing happened in the morning.

***

you expected it all to fade to nothing once everybody else came back to hogwarts, but then it didn't. you still took walks in the snow and argued over butterbeer and snuck out after midnight (and had to clean several toilets after getting caught almost every time). he still helped you with arithmancy without asking for anything in return, and you'd sometimes kiss him on the cheek if you were in a good mood. you thrived off of the expressions that would paint his face whenever you did that.

but with the return of other students also came whispers and rumours, following you around like shadows. you ignored them tactfully, not wanting to give anybody the satisfaction of confirming that their silly theories may have been right all along. especially not hermione. she wouldn't let you forget that until you perished. she'd probably leave a note on your grave too, so you'd have that humiliating reminder haunting you in the afterlife.

"i thought you two hated each other." mattheo deadpanned one evening after lorenzo had brought you to the slytherin common room, straight into the damn snake pit. you were squashed together on the sofa, a large book splayed open across your laps, not getting read. it was one of the stolen ones. all of his friends were there, watching you like hawks.

"we do." you responded nonchalantly, taking the cigarette that lorenzo handed you. you took a long drag before putting it back between his lips.

"then why do you spend so much time together?" draco was very obviously judging you. he of all people should have understood. lorenzo rolled his eyes.

"you are in no place to talk, mister i hate potter but snog him in my off time." blaise took your side, bless his soul, and tossed theodore's shoe in his direction. shutting draco up was easier than you would have thought.

"no, but why?" mattheo repeated draco's question, propping his chin up into his palm and observing you curiously.

"maybe, they're– wait, what do you call that?" theodore leaned into pansy, hoping she had an answer.

"masochists?" she replied casually and lit a cigarette herself.

you choked on your spit. lorenzo almost burnt a hole in the sofa. but then pansy brushed her friend off, staring at the two of you with a mischievous grin, "not really, i think they're just bad liars."

and she was so bloody right. hate was the last thing that could be used to describe your relationship. third year you's biggest nightmare was a better label for it, given that you couldn't even be in the same room as him without trying to turn him into something nasty.

present day you was having a difficult time stopping herself from trying to kiss him whenever he was in her presence. it was that fucking frustrating. you couldn't believe yourself. lorenzo was facing the same struggles, and you couldn't tell if he was worsening or subduing the tension by randomly touching you. not like you minded, you were loving it all and stopped bothering with trying to hide it from him. your ego may have been large, but your crush on him ended up being bigger.

potions class was usually the height of it all, although it wasn't the only period during which you got to sit next to your favourite rival. mcgonagall was was thriving, unlike snape, who simply could not get used to the positive energy surrounding you, or the way you were together each time he crossed your paths. seeing pure fear flash through his eyes at the beginning of every class was hilarious.

when lorenzo arrived, you felt yourself starting to smile and tried to push it away with the most unsettling thoughts you could muster. it did nothing. he sat down with a dramatic groan, and immediately started ranting about some minor issue he had run into that morning. he did that a lot. this time it was about his favourite pair of socks going missing. you sucked in practically everything he said, chuckled at the random curses, noticed every breath of frustration he released as he was rummaging through his bag. you didn't realise you were staring. lorenzo did, but he didn't comment on it. he liked when you were looking at him.

you failed to regsiter that the lesson officially began, but not much was happening, really. snape was telling you about felix felicis and how insanely difficult it was to make, while you were required to write down the most useful bits of the information he was giving out. when he finally sat down after assigning you to read an overly long passage, lorenzo shifted closer to you. you eyed him, puzzled.

"would you kill me if i asked you for a favour?" you focused half of your attention on the writing, half on him.

"depends what the favour is." you shrugged. he put his arm over the text to prevent you from reading. he wanted you to look at him. he had always wanted you to look at him. from the very moment your fued set off, it was one of those little annoying things that made your hatred for him stronger. not anymore, but it was still infuriating in its own way. you gave him your full attention. he may have seen some sparks fly. you had each other wrapped around your little fingers without even realising it.

he shifted even closer to you so that you could hear him better, considering that he had to whisper, "can you come to hogsmeade with me today?" his breath fanned over your ear as he spoke. you didn't respond, so he continued, "none of my friends want to and it would be stupid if i went alone. you do kind of owe me." ah, yes. for that time he saved you from detention after slughorn caught you two smoking in the astronomy tower. you shot him with an annoyed look. you both knew it was exaggerated and what your answer would be, yet you still played around with it. that's the way things went. he smirked. bitch.

"fine." he was so smug about it, you could choke him and snog him at the same time. he got his arm away from your textbook, but didn't retrieve his chair. you were squeezed next to one another despite having more than enough space. your arms were touching, and so were your legs beneath the table. you moved not a muscle, and neither did he. you had grown to like having him sit so close to you. it made you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, helping you ignore the freezing winter air and the thick layer of snow covering the ground outside.

you met him in the courtyard after a quick change of clothing following the end of your classes for that week. when hermione asked you where you were heading and why you won't be staying in the common room with the rest of your friends, you told a half truth. that you were heading to hogsmeade, but then bolted out the door before she was able to ask with whom. she would guess either way.

"i forgot to ask you why we were doing this in the first place." you spoke as you left the school grounds, your hands shoved into your pockets and your face hidden inside of your fluffy scarf. you were a little cold. lorenzo was too, his nose was already going red. it was an adorable sight to see, but you weren't dumb enough to say that out loud.

"i wanna pick up a few poetry books." you bit your tongue, trying not to laugh at him.

"didn't know you could read." you snickered, it was stronger than you.

"you're so original," he mocked, "they're not for me. pansy's birthday's coming up so i figured i should get her something."

"oh." the disappointment in your tone was obvious.

all of your willingness to go with him left you in an instant. his presence was more irritating than ever. he furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you chew on the inside of your cheek, wondering if he said something wrong. again... or not. lorenzo was smarter than that.

"what, are you jealous?" he nudged you, teasing. yes. you hated yourself just a tiny bit for that, "no," you scoffed, "in your dreams, berkshire."

"we both know you can't fool me." he kept the act going. you gave him a shove, making him stumble. he almost tripped and fell in a pile of snow. it was very funny. he tried to get back at you, but you slipped out of his reach, laughing when he began chasing you.

spending time with him was like a getaway from all the things that drove you mad, even though he sometimes excelled at that. he became a friend you didn't know you needed and a friend you were pretty sure you were catching some major feelings for.

you entered the bookstore as your unplanned snowball fight came to an end, its warmth immediately engulfing you. after being in the cold for longer than intended, it was just what you desired. you stuck with lorenzo for the first few minutes, helping him out and leading him away from the large isle of erotic novels he accidentally found himself in. people were looking at you weird, especially your schoolmates, so you stepped away from the crowded bits of the shop and decided to check out different sections.

a certain book had caught your eye – its contents intrigued you, but the price did something opposite. you put it back on the shelf without second guessing yourself. you hadn't brought any money with you. you continued roaming through the different isles, browsing through various books while you waited for lorenzo to finish. you lost sight of him for a few minutes, too busy debating whether to make him come back with you here some other time so you could purchase whatever your heart desired.

for the time being, you'd have to leave the shop with empty hands. lorenzo was luckier and ended up getting five poetry books which all seemed to be written by the same author, except for one. he handed you the odd one out. you opened your mouth, ready to complain about your fingers being cold and not wanting to carry it. slowly, you realised what it was. your jaw dropped a little.

he had seen you looking at it ever so longingly when he went to check up on you after realising you had gone off on your own. he picked it up without hesitation. you were too stunned to thank him, too stunned to say anything, for the matter. but he wasn't exactly expecting a thank you. he was just happy that you liked it, grinning when you blushed and struggled to keep it cool.

"you shouldn't have done that." you chastised. those were the only words you could muster. he rolled his eyes, "deal with it."

you punched his shoulder. he didn't even flinch, "you're welcome."

when he threatened to ruin your life when you were twelve years old, this wasn't how you thought it would happen.

"i'm gonna kill you." you weren't exactly addressing him, more like talking to yourself.

"you're still on about that?" he huffed, pretending to be bored.

"lorenzo!" you groaned, he chuckled, "i love you too." your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. his weird confession seemed unserious, but your heart still fluttered. little did you know that he wasn't as oblivious as you imagined.

he was positively glowing at the reactions he was getting from you. his tiny year five crush on you had blossomed into something stronger after that moment at the lake a couple of months prior, and at last, the possibility of you feeling the same wasn't looking so small. if only you saw through his actions. all those offers of help, and his complete dismissal of your rivarly, and his clinginess, and how he stuck to you like glue whenever he got the opportunity.

your walk back to the castle surprisingly wasn't silent. you were chatting quietly, snickering amongst yourselves. your shoulders brushed occasionally, and so did your hands, and you thought your heart might burst. you shivered as the wind got stronger, pressing yourself a little closer to him.

"you okay?"

"huh?" you didn't register what he said at first, "oh, yes. just a little cold, that's all." you explained, not taking your eyes away from the pathway you were pacing across.

"let's hurry up, then." he took a hold of your hand, swiftly leading you back to the castle. you were so, royally fucked. you clutched onto the poetry book tightly, focused on regulating your breathing. your entire face was on fire, your breaths ragged, heart beating rapidly against your ribcage.

four days later, you caught a terrible cold after accidentally falling asleep by the window while you were reading. hermione said that she expected better from you. she was fantastic help. you were pretty sure you were dying. your limbs hurt. your head was throbbing. your sinuses were clogged. your throat felt like someone had stuck a knife into it. but did you skip any lessons because of it or at least visit madam pomfrey to see if she could do anything? no, you weren't that helpless. you'd deal with it on your own.

or try to, at least. you stumbled into class resembling a zombie, eager to sit down and hopefully not do much work for the day. you placed your arms on the desk, laying your head into them and shutting your eyes. you opened them only a few seconds later when lorenzo shifted next to you. you were met with his worried face, just a couple of centimeters away from yours. when you didn't budge, he touched your cheek with the back of his hand, frowning.

"you're burning up." he kept his voice down, but his tone was giving away the fact that your state concerned him greatly. you waved a dismissive hand, closing your eyes again. he poked you to make you look at him.

"have you went to madam pomfrey?" he questioned. you shook your head. if looks could kill, his probably would have.

"i'll go later." you reassured him poorly, just to get him to stop. the last thing you needed was getting all flustered and emotional because he was showing more interest in taking care of you than anybody else in your circle of friends.

"your later usually means never," he was right. you hated that. you grunted, hiding your reddening face. that was both from the fever and from him, "hey." he threw his arm around you when he didn't get a resonse. you leaned into his touch faster than you thought you would, just searching for any sort of warmth there was.

other students were giggling, but he couldn't care less, "y/n."

you lifted your head again, and then allowed it to fall against his shoulder. mcgonagall stepped through the classroom door shortly after that, her mouth dropping a little when she saw the position you were in. she was gonna scold you for displaying your affection so publicly, but lorenzo quickly explained the situation, and before you were able to protest, she shooed the both of you outside.

he immediately intertwined your fingers, walking at a slower pace than usual, not wanting to tire you more. as annoyed as that made you, you didn't pull your hand away, and instead kept your body close to his. he was muttering something, scolding you for being so dismissive and not getting this fixed right away. you were too exhausted to argue, but he was right anyway.

you inhaled sharply as your headache increased in intensity, latching onto his arm and stopping in your tracks. you shut you eyes, thinking it would help and ease it a bit. you felt him move to stand in front of you. his forehead fell against yours and his hands cupped your cheeks gently. you held onto him, taking a few deep breaths through your nose. his thumbs grazed over your skin ever so slightly, as if that his was his way of trying to soothe you.

eventually, your eyes fluttered open, but neither of you let the other go. lorenzo broke the silence between you, "you're so bloody stubborn."

"you're one to talk." you chuckled dryly, hugging him a bit tighter. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, waiting for you to give him a sign that you were ready to walk again. when you nodded, he took your hand again, leading you to the hospital wing.

madam pomfrey had you going back to normal with a simple flick of her wand after a tiny scolding, and then she pinched lorenzo's cheek and called him a "good boy" for being so caring. the unexpected praise had his eyes going wide and he was blushing madly – you were never gonna let him forget that one.

she instructed you to come back if the cold returned, but she was addressing lorenzo more than she was you. a smart move on her part, the older woman knew you and your headstrong ways well enough. she ushered you out only after she made sure were in perfect shape to head back to class, though you couldn't do it without rubbing her comment into lorenzo face until he turned completely red again. he had to tickle you to get you to stop and you caused a bit of a commotion in the silent corridors, but that didn't matter. you returned to the transfiguration classroom with your pinkies intertwined, all eyes on you. you two really needed to talk.

and what are the odds of him being caring enough to check up on you later that day. he knew he wouldn't find you in your dorm, or the common room, or the library, or the astronomy tower. instead, he headed to the only other place on his mind, where the two of you often hung out on nights when neither of you could sleep.

you were sat on one of the stone walls in the courtyard, a cigarette in your hand, kind of forgotten. you hadn't noticed that it was burning out, or the occasional ash landing on your clothes. your thoughts were going places, recalling the many events that occured during the past few months, and what on earth you were going to do about your feelings. you could hide them from your friends for some time, but not from lorenzo. you blew out a frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. being straightforward with that idiot was always easy. you never had trouble with telling him exactly what you meant.

the fact that you were anxious about it now was the most maddening thing in the world.

"what a depressing sight." you flinched, whipping your head in lorenzo's direction almost instantly. you couldn't tell if that was luck or misfortune. you snorted, rolling your eyes and offering him the remainder of your cigarette. he gladly took it, joining you in silence.

"why are you here?" you questioned.

"came to check up on you." he replied.

"i can take care of myself just fine." you patted his back. he seemed unphased. of course he was, he knew he'd win that argument.

you glimpsed up at the sky shortly. it was snowing just a little bit. you turned to lorenzo, a pleading expression on your face, "walk with me?"

he nodded, tossing the cigarette butt into the snow. you left the school grounds once again knowing that you wouldn't make it back before curfew, but that wasn't something the either of you dwelled on very much. there were more important things to get worried about.

it was obvious that you kept dodging the subject, settling for talking about things so insignificant that you would probably tell somebody to shut up if they brought them up in conversation on a normal day. being ballsy wasn't your thing anymore, as it seemed.

as cowardly as you felt, the sore winner in you wasn't letting you back down. a long internal debate and a silent minute of self-deprecation was what it took to make you finally speak your mind... to an extent, "have you ever felt incredibly guilty about being wrong about someone?"

lorenzo stared at you as if you were insane. it was a little too early on in the conversation for him to start connecting the dots. his street-smarts were sometimes lacking.

"you sure your cold didn't come back?" he pressed his hand against your forehead. you let out a startled laugh, observing his questioning face.

"what?" you spluttered, shoving your hands further into your pockets. the skeptical look in his eyes was making you nervous.

"you're admitting that you were wrong about something?" he sounded unconvinced, but there was a hint of jest in his voice.

you bit your tongue, clearing your throat awkwardly, "yes." you breathed out. he nodded, a way to tell you to go on. he was definitely interested. you were beginning to suspect that he already knew what you were gonna say.

"i mean," you grunted, cursing quietly, "you know when you spend years convinced that somebody is an awful person and claiming you hate their guts but then end up realising that they aren't nearly as terrible as you thought when you get to know them properly?" you explained frustratedly, resisting the temptation to kick the snow piling at your feet.

his mouth fell open in surprise for a moment, but he quickly shut it, running a hand through his hair, "uh, yeah, actually." he uttered nervously, scanning your face for any sign of humour. but you weren't playing around, and certainly not lying. he had been around you enough to be able to tell when you were being truthful.

you gave him a brief nod, looking everywhere but at him. you barely noticed that your hands were shaking. you contined walking on, not saying a single thing. if he were to tell you that he could hear your heart beating, you wouldn't even have the time to act surprised.

"i have to tell you something." he stopped in his tracks, grabbing your elbow in order to make your steps halt. you faced him, looking down at your feet, waiting for him to drop the bomb. he chewed on his lip anxiously, running a hand through his hair.

"i, um," he was struggling, not exactly knowing how to begin. how to formulate that sentence, even. he wished he could just show you. he reached to take your hand, and you let him, standing there motionless.

it was his turn to panic, "i- fuck." he met your gaze. you knew that look. you knew that bloody look he gave you when you were both thinking the same thing. two years prior it would have been something along the lines of i want to kill you. but it had turned into something that was a lot closer to i want to kiss you. you wanted to fucking cry.

you nodded, breathing out and blinking your tears away. he almost sighed in relief, cupping your cheeks, and that's when your lips pressed against the last pair of lips you thought you'd ever be kissing.

you reached up to touch his face – that pretty face you once hated the sight of, but then couldn't get enough of. you pulled back only for a moment, only to connect again, neither letting the other go. your kisses were unhurried, soft, and loving, despite months upon months of pining, despite the years of pent up hate that was, at the end of day, sort of bound to blossom into love.

at the end of your seventh year, when you were leaving hogwarts hand in hand, mcgonagall stopped you on the way out. it was only then that she told you what had actually happened that gloomy day october, the one that practically sealed your fates for eternity. the overflow of different emotions was too strong for you to have time to act shocked, and you pulled the woman into a big hug, thanking her with teary eyes. for putting up with you for so many years, and for managing to do the unimaginable.

#lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire imagine #louis partridge #louis partridge x reader #louis partridge imagine #theodore nott #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader

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smooth-perceval · 5 months

Text

“Stop acting like the grinch.”

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Max pushes reader away, but reader is too stubborn to leave him alone- and soon find outs the truth.

Warning: swearing, max being a bit of a dick, forgiven very easy, reader being stubborn, fluff, angst?

Key: Y/N (Your name) Y/L/N (your last name)

Word count: 715

A/N: this is short and rushed please don’t hate me! It’s busy season and I forgot how busy I get at Christmas!!

Me and max hadn’t spoken in a few weeks or so- something about needing space over the holidays to focus on training…

Every year without fail for the past 4 years we spent Christmas together, it was our sworn vow in our friendship- Christmas never gets missed. Maybe except this year… Well unless he tells me to leave him alone then I’ll have to just walk away- right?

“Max! I know you said you need space… but I got all my decorations!” Kicking the door with my foot, I juggled the boxes in my arms.

“Max? You in- I should’ve texted before coming over I’m sorry.”

Nudging the door once again, I then sighed dropping the boxes to the floor hearing what sounds like a possible few broken ornaments.

“Max?” Hands on my hips I stared at the door. “Such an idiot Y/N… he’s out.” Mumbling unholy words to myself I prepared myself to carry the boxes back down to the car.

“Y/N?” With squinting eyes, messy hair and slightly red face- peering through the slightly opened door was Max.

“Max?” Mouth slacked I stared at him like a deer in headlights.

“Hi-” it felt lovely to see him again… I missed him deeply.

“Hey… what are you doing here?” Furrowing his eyebrows- he opened the door a little more.

“To decorate?… like last year- and the year before…”

“Y/N- I said I am focusing on other shit…”

“But max- we do this every year.”

“Not this year… you need to go.”

“Max-”

“Don’t Max me. Just go…”

Deflated, my shoulders slumped. I thought it’ll be easy to just turn and go- but truthfully I wasn’t giving up the fight that easy.

“Stop acting like the grinch.”

A little smile crept on his face before he quickly wiped it away.

“You’re still here.”

“No shit Sherlock. Let me in.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll wait out here… decorate your front door or something…”

“Fine.”

Silence… he didn’t shut the door we just stared at each other.

“And if this is the most I’ll see of you- then merry Christmas and happy new year.” With my hand now against his forehead I pushed it back slamming the door shut on my own face. And true to my word, I started decorating his front door- making do with what I had, a little tinsel around the door- a doormat In front.

I went to tie some balbals around the handle- when the door sprung open again.

“Y/N.”

Leaning forward I wrapped the balbals around before rummaging through the bag again.

“Y/N.”

“What Max.”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know.”

“I just-”

“You just?”

“I’m not busy- I lied.”

“You lied?… why did you lie?” A little insulted I took a step away from him- like he twisted a knife in my heart. “I realised I am in love with you- and that has scared the shit of me.”

“You’re in love with me…?” And the knife was untwisted, heart was kissed better and floating back in his arms.

“So much it hurts.”

“Max…” shushing me he looked up pulling the tinsel down from the door

“So if you’ll have me- I’d like to celebrate this Christmas a little differently from the last.”

“How so?” With a sly smile on his face, he threw the tinsel around me pulling me in. “I’ll show you-”

And there it was the first time ever in 4 years- we kissed. And it was magical. I couldn’t describe the kiss just- I knew I wanted this forever. The tinsel around my waist, max grip on the tinsel wrapping it around his hands the closer he pulls me in.

“Max-” mumbling I pulled away- his eyes still closed as he pulled back slightly humming as a response. “Can we watch the grinch?”

“Seriously…”

“You was a dick.”

“Because I love you!”

“And now you’ll watch the grinch while we decorate!”

“I guess I will.” Rolling his eyes he grabbed the bag of decor, as I picked up the rest.

“Oh and max-” turning around he looked down slightly at me.

“Merry Christmas.” Whispering to him- I leaned up kissing his lips delicately- leaving him with a cute smile on his face.

“And a happy new year.” He whispered back returning the kiss.

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen

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drabblesandimagines · 6 months

Text

Dove

Leon Kennedy x fem reader Thinking of making this a little series, will be a fluff, bit of a slow burn, bodyguard trope?

You aren’t sure how you’d got through the last few hours. Everything’s a blur as you try to think back of the horror that had occurred, now you’re now sat in an unfamiliar chair in an unfamiliar office. Your right arm is in a sling, shoulder throbbing somewhat from a reset dislocation, broken fingers splintered together on the same arm, medical tape holding a wound closed on your temple, disinfectant swiped across the numerous scrapes, your body aching with developing bruises on your legs, poking out from under your dress, from the fall down the stairs – the fall that apparently ended up saving your life from the unearthly creature that had rampaged through your workplace and tore your co-workers apart.

After being treated by a DSO medic, you’d been escorted by a tall, armed to the gills, annoyingly silent man. He’d confiscated your phone, despite the fact the screen was smashed and wouldn’t turn on, and taken you across the city to the main HQ, ushered up a side entrance into the room you now sat, told you to wait, and left you alone for what felt like hours.

The door eventually opens and a smartly dressed, pretty woman, hair pinned up in a bun and wearing glasses enters, immediately heading to the other side of the desk and taking what you assumed was her seat. A handsome man accompanied her, shaggy brown hair, dressed in cargo pants, fingerless gloves, knife strapped to his thigh, finished off with a leather jacket, a holster poking out from underneath. He gives you a sympathetic once over as he sits down besides you, careful not to brush your knee with his own as he does. Considerate.

“Were you given adequate pain medication?” The lady asks abruptly, beginning to type on her keyboard.

You stare at her a moment – she’s all business. “Er… Yeah. Thanks.” Though you’re sure the two of them have noticed the wince as you shuffled in your seat. The medic had offered you stronger stuff but you’d declined, wanting to keep your wits about you. “Sorry, what’s happening now?”

“I’m Ingrid Hunnigan, this is Agent Kennedy.” She nods to the man opposite her.

“Name’s Leon.” The man besides you offers his hand and you notice he’s adapted for your incapacitated arm, in what will surely result in a very awkward handshake but the gesture is nice. You take it, hoping the tremor in your grip isn’t so painfully obvious. “Hi. Erm, I’m-”

“Dove.” Hunnigan cuts you off. “I am aware of your identity, but we will be referring to you as Dove.”

“It’s a codename.” Leon explains, a little less business. “For your safety.”

Hunnigan pauses in her typing, hitting backspace slowly as she replies. “Agent Kennedy will be your protection detail until we get this mess squared up.”

Your breath catches in your throat at her choice of word, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach. “Mess? It was a massacre in there-”

“I know. We know.” The agent besides you stresses. “I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

“Am I the only one who…?” You don’t know why you ask.

“I’m afraid so.” Hunnigan replies, a little softer in tone. “We’re going to send you to a safe house. Agent Kennedy will stay with you.”

“O-okay.” You nod, not taking it all in. “You… You think they’d send whatever that thing was after me?”

“That’s what we need time to establish.” Hunnigan replies. “From the CCTV, after the attack, there was a breach on the database. We need to establish how much data they managed to extract, if any. Agent Kennedy will keep you updated as much as he can when he receives any intel.” She turns more to him then, cutting you out of the conversation. “I’ll send the co-ordinates of the safe house when you’re out of the city. They’re loading up an SUV with supplies for at least a week. If it goes on longer, we’ll arrange a supply drop via another location.”

“That long?” You feel like you’re interrupting.

“Worse case scenario, Dove.” Leon offers you a smile. “I’m sure we’ll have you back home in no time. Did they send you away with any meds?”

“The medic sent in a report – with a treatment plan. It’s in the information pack, prescribed medicine is in with the supplies. Again, enough for a week.” Hunnigan replies. “I’ve arranged clothes too – medic guessed your size for me. We’ll be keeping your phone for now.”

“Why?”

“We can’t allow you to contact anyone – for your safety and theirs.”

Your heart skips a beat at that comment. “Wait… You think I might be behind this, don’t you?”

Hunnigan purses her lips. “It is an avenue we need to explore. There are questions as to why you alone survived. We will be dispatching a team to your residence once the two of you are out of the city to help in our investigation.”

“Again, that’s just protocol.” Leon tries to reassure, but your mind is whirling. “No-one is accusing you of anything, Dove.”

“I… I’ve worked here for years, I passed all the clearance checks. I wouldn’t, I didn’t…”

“As Agent Kennedy said, it’s just protocol. If you have nothing to hide, there is nothing to fear.” Hunnigan resumes tapping away at the keyboard as she talks, pausing as the computer emits a ping. “SUV’s ready. I suggest you two go.”

Leon gets to his feet, once more offering his hand to help you to yours. He smiles, sympathetically, as he takes in your appearance – your face has lost what little colour it had.

“Time to go, Dove. It’ll be all right.”

You want to say no, you feel like you need to stay to plead your innocence, but you catch sight of the gun holstered by his side and the flame of defiance is extinguished. You take his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He places his hand on the small of your back to guide you back through the door and you can’t work out if it should feel like comfort or a threat.

You felt numb as Leon had escorted you to a large SUV with blacked out windows in an empty carpark. He’d opened the door for you, helped you climb in before hesitating.

“Need a hand with your seatbelt?”

You stare at him for a moment too long.

“Because of your arm, I mean.”

“Oh. Please.”

He leans over you, grabbing the seatbelt and clicking it into place.

“Right. Comfy?”

“Yeah.” You swallow. “Thanks.”

He nods, closes the door behind him – softly, you note, rather than a slam and it’s then you realise that you also can’t see out the windows. He hops up into the front, buckles his own seatbelt and starts the engine, swinging the SUV out of the parking space with ease. You can’t really see anything from where you’re sat, bar the back of his head and it must be deliberate.

“Hopefully it’s not too long of a drive.” He comments. “Had one that was a twelve hours’ away once and we are not allowed to stop for bathroom breaks.”

“Are you allowed to tell me how far away it is when you know?”

“Don’t see why not. Hunnigan will ping it through once we’re clear enough.”

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed when, eventually, the promised ping echoes around the car. You can hear him tap his fingers against something and he hums to himself.

“We’re in luck – about two hours away, Dove. Want some music on? Don’t have any CDs but got the radio.”

Maybe the music will help drown out how loud your heart is thudding in your ears. ”Yeah, sure.”

He fiddles with the dial – sound crackling around the car before it settles on some acoustic tune you don’t recognize. Must be some easy listening station.

“You can nap, if you like.”

“Maybe.” Though you’re not sure how you’ll ever sleep again after today.

The rest of the drive passes in silence, apart from the sound of the radio. You close your eyes a few times, leaning your head back against the seat but the creature seems burned into your retinas, haunting your vision.

“This is us.” Leon breaks the silence as you feel the car turn and he reduces the speed. He switches off the car and unclicks his seatbelt, turning back to face you. “Wait there just a moment, okay?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles, opens his door and hops out, again closing the door softly behind him. What must be a few minutes later, your door opens and he once again offers his hand.

“Ready?

You unclip your seatbelt with your good hand before accepting his outstretched one, helping you step down from the SUV. You’re in a garage now of some sort – spacious enough to fit the car and what looks to be a chest freezer, washer and tumble dryer - the whole room illuminated by an orange bulb.

“So, we said safe house – seems more like a safe bungalow to me. I’ll give you the tour.” He gestures forward towards an open door and you walk forward, once again his hand falling to the small of your back. It leads through to a modest sized kitchen – usual white appliances and opens out into a living room with two couches, a coffee table and an entertainment unit with a television. There are two more doors along the wall, but what really strikes you is how small the windows all are, covered in thick panes of glass.

Bulletproof, you wonder.

“Bathroom’s this one,” he opens the door in demonstration, revealing a typical bathroom, before moving along. “And the bedroom.” It has a double bed, white linen sheets, a wardrobe and dresser. “Your bedroom,” he corrects. “I’ll be on the couch.”

“Oh. Is that comfortable?”

He smiles at your concern. “I’m pretty good at sleeping anywhere, but it looks comfortable enough. Speaking of, it’s pretty late so I think we should call it a night.” He ducks into the bathroom, pulling out a washbag from under the sink and empties the contents on the counter. “Standard toiletries kit to start us off. I’m gonna start bringing in the supplies. Sound good?”

You nod and he heads back towards the garage. You kick off your shoes before you step into the bathroom and close the door, twisting the lock closed. You use the facilities with some difficulty, your first visit since being an arm down, though thankful to be in a dress so as not to battle with trousers. After what some might call a best attempt of washing your hand, you pick up the toothbrush and immediately put it back down in annoyance as you realise you’ll need to deal with the toothpaste first. Thankful for the flip cap, the tube slips from your grip as you squeeze, shooting across the counter and knocking a glass off the counter, sending it smashing to the floor.

“Fu-” The word doesn’t even make it out of your mouth when the door is broken open, slammed against the wall and Leon is stood there, gun raised as you scream.

He scans the room with his eyes, concedes it’s clear and lowers his gun. “What happened? You okay?”

“I… I d-dropped the t-t-toothpaste and smashed the g-glass and…” Your breath catches in your throat again, tears burning in your eyes.

“Hey,” he holsters the gun on his thigh. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay. Sorry for scaring you. I thought there was a window in here.”

He looks down at the broken glass that’s exploded over the floor and your sock-clad feet. “Sit down, all right? I’ll clear this up.”

“No, I s-should-”

“I can do it. Just sit, please. I’ll go grab a dustpan – they have one. Not my first safe house.” He soothes, heading off into the kitchen cupboards in search of it.

You sit down on the closed toilet seat lid and wonder bitterly if he’s at more safe houses than his own home. You take the moment to try and settle your breathing, your heart still pounding.

Leon appears at the door once more, grinning as he holds the dustpan and brush aloft in triumph. “Found it.” He crouches down, beginning to sweep up the glass. You watch in silence as he tackles the floor methodically, making sure to brush along each square of bathroom tile until he seems satisfied with his work.

“There. All done.” He places it to the side and grabs the troublesome toothpaste tube, before standing up to his full height. “So, this was the culprit, huh?”

You nod. “I don’t know what happened - the only difference was the toothbrush being on the counter, so I should be able to do it, just-”

He picks up the toothbrush and squeezes a blob of toothpaste on it. “On the house.” Leon jokes, offering it back to you. You stand up and accept it, hesitantly.

“I kinda feel pathetic.” You admit.

“Dove…” You’re getting a little used to the name now. It sounds nice off his tongue – soft and sweet. “You’ve had a shitty day, give yourself a break.”

“No, I mean, it just feels like you’re my servant or something – sweeping up, squeezing out my toothpaste...”

“To protect and serve’s the motto.” He smiles at your confused look. “I was a cop before I was an agent.”

“And this is the stuff you did as a cop?”

“Yes, alongside the helping old ladies with their groceries, helping ducks cross the street…” He teases, before nodding at the toothbrush in your hand. “I’ll leave you to it.”

After brushing your teeth without further incident and taking a few more moments to compose yourself, you exit the bathroom. Leon’s stood at the kitchen counter, paper bag in hand, looking at pill packets. There’s a couple of duffel bags near the garage door, one unzipped.

“Medical notes say it’s painkiller time, I’m afraid.” He grabs a glass from the cupboard, fills it up with water from the tap and places it down besides two white pills. “They’ve given you some sleeping tablets as well, but that’s up to you.”

“Do they stop you dreaming?”

Leon grimaces at your question. “From personal experience, yeah. No dreams.”

You hold out your hand. “Then I’ll take them.”

He nods, shaking another two pills out of a bottle and into his hand, picking up the other two and drops them in your hand. You open your mouth and throw them in, before accepting the glass of water, swallowing it all down.

“So, er, this is gonna be a little bit awkward, but I don’t know what you prefer to sleep in, obviously, but I’m assuming not that.”

“Oh. Yeah, no.”

“So, I pulled out a couple of things.” He nods towards the bedroom, where you can see some items of clothing laying out on the bed. He’s turned the bedside lamp on, the room softly illuminated in a white glow.

“You really are a safe house pro.”

“Ha, yeah.” He grins, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess my question is, do you need a hand with changing? 100% respectful offer, obviously.”

You nod. “Please.”

“Okay. After you.”

You walk into the bedroom, Leon keeping his distance this time. There’s an oversized t-shirt in the pile, looks like it will reach your knees. You pick it up with your good hand, clutching it close to your chest and turn to face him.

“Can you help with the sling?”

“Yep.” He nods – professional, unstrapping it with ease and removing it gently. “Afraid medic says you need to sleep with the sling for a week.”

“Mm.” You nod, hanging your arm down loose before turning around. “I guess if you could unzip and I’ll…”

“Got it.” He tugs down the zipper of your dress slowly – if it was some other encounter you’d say he was being a tease. He stops as he reaches the small of your back, just above your underwear. “What can I do now?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, but there’s no getting around it now. “Any good at undoing a bra? Professionally.”

“Professionally, yep.” You feel gentle fingers deftly unclasp it with ease.

“I think I’ve got it from now until the sling needs back on, so-”

“Say no more. Just call when you’re ready.”

The door closes behind you and you exhale, trying to compose yourself. It’s more months since a man had helped you out of a dress and this, after everything today and the situation you’re in, unsure if he sees you as victim or villain, shouldn’t be making you feel flustered.

Gingerly, you slip one arm out of the dress, followed by the other, wincing as you do so and allowing it to pool down at your feet. Next comes your bra, and then you gently pull the t-shirt over your head, again flinching as your shoulder smarts.

Decent, or decent enough, you call out. “Leon? I’m ready.”

“Coming in.” He announces, pausing a moment before opening the door and immediately moves to pick up the sling from where he placed it on the bed. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

With practiced hands, he positions your arm into the sling, adjusting it carefully and fastening it in place once more. “There. Feel okay?”

“Yeah.” You look him in the eyes then – beautiful, blue eyes, before fighting back a yawn. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “That will be the sleeping pills kicking in. I forgot to mention they’re real heavy duty.”

“Mm.” You sit down on the bed then, a little too heavily, before picking up your discarded dress on the floor. “Could you bin this?”

“Of course.” He takes it from you, no question. “Anything else I can do?”

“No. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me, Dove. It’s all right – I told you, part of the job.”

“Still, thank you.” You mumble, head feeling heavy.

“Here,” he pulls back the covers as you scooch yourself back and lean your head back on the pillow, tucking the duvet in over you. “Arm still okay?”

You nod, looking up at him with bleary eyes.

“I swear what happened wasn’t anything to do with me. I swear.”

“Shh,” Leon hushes. “I know.” He feels it in his gut, felt it since the moment he lay eyes on you in Hunnigan’s office. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll hear some updates. But, for now, just sleep. Okay, Dove?”

“Sleep, okay…” You mumble, closing your eyes.

Leon hovers a moment, noting the change in your breathing as the sleeping pills pull you under. He turns off the bedside lamp and leaves the bedroom, quietly, your dress clutched in his hand. He places it in the kitchen bin – there’s an incinerator round the back to erase all trace of their visit, but he’ll do that in the morning.

He makes his way over to the sofa and lies down, not even bothering to remove his boots.

He won’t be sleeping tonight.

-- Do let me know if you'd be interested in a part two! x EDIT: Part two!

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x female reader

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lanadelnegan · 8 months

Note

hyperfeminine reader x negan? he goes to alexandria to take their supplies and reader is just walking around looking all pretty and he CANT resist.

ily 💕💕

ily more bby. xx

Pretty in Pink

S7 Negan x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, public sex (in front of Dwight.. like literally in the car while he's driving), Negan being overly caring and sweet with you, character death (negan kills your brother Spencer)

Note: this is dark and twisted ngl.

I watch Negan like a deer in headlights as he whispers into my brother's ear.

"It's because.. ya got no guts." The rest of us are silent as we watch Negan slash his knife through Spencer's stomach, revealing his insides. My stomach churns as I watch him fall to the ground.

Negan chuckles as he looks around, eyeing the crowd as if he's daring us to react.

"Oh, there they are! They were inside of you the whole time." He smirks down at Spencer's lifeless body before his dark eyes roam up, meeting mine.

I quickly look down, biting my lip and fighting back tears. My nails dig into my skin as I try to remain calm.

"Well hello, princess." He slowly approaches me. "Forgive me for the gruesome scene you just had to witness." His hand rests against his chest sympathetically as he stands in front of me now, at least a foot above me.

My fingers lace together in front of me as I continue looking down, digging my dirty white shoe into the gravel.

"I don't believe we've met, sweetheart... In fact, I know we haven't because I definitely would have noticed you, looking all pretty in this little pink skirt."

I look up at him innocently through my lashes. His head cocks to the side as he subtly leans back, noticing the tear slipping from my cheek.

"Shit, darlin'. I am so sorry. That wasn't your boyfriend I just ripped open, was it?" He motions towards Spencer.

I softly shake my head no, earing a grin from him as he tilts my chin upwards to meet his stare.

"He - he was my brother." I sniffle, feeling another tear slide from my cheek.

Negan's jaw ticks and his eyes shut painfully tight as his hand slowly retreats from my chin.

"Goddamn it... If I woulda known.." He shakes his head with disappointment, noticing everyone still standing around us. "Enjoying the fucking show, people?!" He gestures for everyone to clear out before turning his attention back to me.

Sighing loudly, he delicately picks me up in his arms, holding me like a baby. I allow him to carry me as I bury my face into his shirt, soaking it with my tears.

"Ssshhh, babyyy." He whispers against the top of my head as he walks us to his van.

"Dwight! Let's go, you're driving."

"Boss? The supplies.. we don't have them loaded yet." Simon interrupts.

"I'm sorry." Negan's voice vibrates through his chest and into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Does it look like I give two fucks about supplies right now?"

He doesn't wait for Simon to answer as he opens the passenger door, joining Dwight in the van while carefully maneuvering me in his lap. My legs face towards Dwight while the side of my body leans into Negan.

"Hey, sshhh. It's okay, baby. What's your name?" He rubs my back comfortingly.

"Y/n." I whisper, sniffing my runny nose.

"Y/n, you're gonna stay with me tonight so I can make sure you're okay. I truly am sorry about your brother."

I nod my head, leaning against him. This is the first physical affection I've had from anyone since our parents died. Although it's from a man I'm supposed to hate, I can't deny how nice it feels to be touched.

My brother and I drifted apart when our family found Alexandria and made it our own. He turned into someone I didn't recognize, all power-hungry and selfish.. and although he probably deserved to die, he was still my brother. I'll always love him.

I allow myself to snuggle into Negan, my face against his neck as I inhale his scent of leather and citrusy hair gel.

"Gonna make you forget all about that asshole brother of yours, darlin'." His large, veiny hand glides up my thigh until it settles just underneath the frills of my skirt. He rubs circles on my smooth skin with his thumb, comforting me sweetly.

The drive back to the sanctuary seems to last a decade and I watch the way Dwight zones out at the road in front of him, not paying attention to us.

My hand bravely drifts on top of Negan's and I slide his hand deeper underneath my skirt, watching it disappear completely. I know how wrong this is, but I can't help my attraction to him. I've watched him from the window of my room too many times to count, wondering what his lips feel like. Doodling his name next to little hearts in my diary. This is what I've wanted, even if it's under these circumstances.

Negan's eyes widen a little as he looks at me, surprised by my forwardness.

He glances at Dwight before looking back up at me, his heavy eyelids slightly covering his hazel eyes as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

I reach my finger up to graze over his puffy bottom lip in a "shush" motion before leaning in to kiss him. His body remains still as his lips part, letting my tongue slip past his. He groans softly and Dwight glances at us, bringing his eyebrows together.

"Eyes on the fucking road, Dwight." Negan says with our mouths still connected. I let my hands explore him, roaming them up his body and feeling his chest through his t-shirt.

His hard cock presses into my ass as I turn myself to face him, bringing one leg over until they're both hanging over each side of him and I'm straddling his lap. He grips my ass under my skirt as his head falls back slightly, waiting for my next move.

"Negan.."

"Yeah, baby?" His voice is low and raspy.

"Touch me."

His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he urges my back into the dashboard. My mouth gapes open when he pulls my panties to the side, revealing my pussy to him.

"Look at this pretty pink pussy, baby." He breathes out as his finger slides through my wet folds.

"So wet for daddy. Wish I could fucking take you right here."

I look at Dwight, who's trying his best to pretend we're not here, but the sudden sensation of Negan curling his finger inside me snaps my attention back to him.

"So do it, then." I urge him.

His eyebrows raise. "Ohh, sweetheart. So desperate for some cock." His hands find their way to my hips, tracing over them slowly as I lean back up.

"Just yours." I admit and he chuckles softly.

"Is that right, baby? You've thought about me before, huh? Touched yourself to the thought of my cock inside you."

I nod, letting my fingers run through his slicked back hair and I can't help but grind myself into him, desperate for some friction.

"Take it then. I'm not stoppin' you."

That's all the confirmation I need before reaching for his belt and unbuckling him until his pants are a few inches down his thighs.

My hand reaches in his boxers, pulling out his hardening cock. Negan watches my face as I tug on him a couple times, admiring the way he grows longer and thicker in my hand.

I don't waste any time hovering above him as he slides my panties to the side again, helping me me sink down onto him. I moan out at the fullness as my head slightly falls back.

"Thaaat's it, baby." He groans, digging his fingers into my hips while I bounce on him.

A pothole in the road causes the van to dip suddenly, and my hips collide with his completely, causing the tip of his cock to push violently against my cervix. I cry out loudly at the sharp pain, but continue riding him faster and deeper until tears fill my eyes.

His head rests against the back of the seat as he watches me ride him. "Such a good fucking girl. You wanna be my wife, baby? I'll take such good care of you."

My eyes widen a little at the unexpected offer. "Uh, I - I dunno."

"That's alright, baby. I have all night to convince you. Don't think it'll take much, considering how desperate you were for my cock." He smiles up at me arrogantly.

My moans get faster and louder along with his. "You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?"

I nod as his finger finds my clit with ease, rubbing it just the right way to send me over the edge. He kisses me hard right when my pussy floods his dick, causing a wet spot on his black jeans.

"FUCK. Look at that." He dips his finger in my wetness before bringing it up to my mouth, making me taste myself. I moan around his finger, sucking gently.

"You ready for my cum, baby?"

I nod, wanting to taste him so badly. As if he heard my thoughts, he lifts me off of him until I'm on my knees in the floorboard between his legs.

I watch as he strokes himself a couple times, my eyes darting back and forth between the tip of his swollen dick to his handsome face. His head falls back while his lips part, letting out a deep groan before long ropes of warm cum splatter onto my face and tongue. I close my eyes, savoring the taste of him as I suck his tip dry.

"Goddamn baby. Look at the mess you made." He reaches for my face, wiping his load off my chin with his thumb and sliding it into my mouth. I moan around him again, loving his salty unique taste before climbing up into his lap and leaning my head against his chest.

I close my eyes to the sound of his rapid heartbeat and feeling of his gentle hand stroking my hair.

How can the same hands that ended my brother's life be so... gentle with me.

Dwight shuts the engine off, exiting the van awkwardly once we arrive. Neither of us move, but I smile softly when Negan fixes the white bow in my hair, pinning it back in place and causing my heart to front flip in my chest.

"Negan..." I whisper.

"Yeah, baby?"

"... I'll be your wife."

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cordyce · 1 year

Text

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: this is silly & overtly fluffy & all over the place if i am completely honest rn. neteyam is a little flustered & probably ooc. sorry :’)

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

#this is for my sweet matcha first and foremost <3 i hope u like it !#also i TOTALLY made up this entire celebration thing LMAO #i jus thought it was a cool idea and super cute sooo #also. i rlly hope u don’t think neteyam is too ooc bc he is a bit. flustered here #BUT SJDHDN AHHH ENJOY #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam drabble #neteyam fluff #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #atwow fluff #avatar fluff #neteyam sully fluff

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reiincarnatiion · 14 days

Text

shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part three

summary: azriel jealous and yearning for Y/N

🧚‍♀️

a/n: sorry guys for the long assss wait, ive been on exchange in the uk so i have been busy living life hehe, still here and loving it!! hope you guys like this one, love you all cuties <33 also this isnt proof read so sorry for any mistakes! let me know what you think, i love all of your sweet messages !! eeeeeee

read : [part one] [part two]

-----🩷🧚‍♀️💗------

You woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache and a parched mouth, confused as to how you had made it to your bed from last night. The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a hazy glow over your room.

Groaning loudly, you cursed as you shifted your weight around, consequently turning your head to come face to face with Lucien's chiseled features, peacefully sleeping next to you. It took you a second to realize he was shirtless as well.

You screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

His mechanical eye swirled open, followed by his other. "Tell me we didn't."

"DID what," Lucien murmured, a small smirk gracing his features as he stared up at the ceiling. Amusement danced in his eyes as he stretched languidly against the sheets. His morning rasp tingled inside you and nicked at you annoyingly. This could not have happened. The headache of whatever liquids and maybe even other substances you had consumed yesterday hit you hard, and you fell back to face the ceiling as well, nausea threatening to overwhelm you.

"You little slut, you know what I meant," you groaned, rolling onto your front in a feeble attempt to quell the oncoming headache and urge to vomit.

You felt Lucien shift next to you as well, attempting to detangle himself from the crisp black sheets of your bed. "We must have done it."

"NO Lucien."

"YES."

"NO, I CAN'T-"

"…why not," Lucien breathed out. His demeanor had changed since you last saw him sober; something had happened last night, and you could not remember, but he was acting differently.

"All I am saying is that last night made me realize things about you, Y/N…" he continued, rising from the sheets. You raised your eyes in horror, ready to scream because you did not want to get flashed by fiery dick-

-a pair of orange breeches came into view.

"Oh."

"Upset that we didn't actually sleep together, Y/N?"

An unknown feeling of red-hotness spread throughout your face, turning your cheeks pink. "I hate you, Lucien," you hummed.

"What did you realize, Lucien?"

"That I pretend to not care the way Azriel and Elain make heart eyes at each other, but on the inside, it's like a knife twisting inside me," he deadpanned, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"What???" he groaned, falling down next to you. "Nothing, Luc, I just feel sorry for us, that's all.

Azriel sat at the dining table, swirling the black coffee mindlessly. It was 2 pm, and his shadows had begun reporting how the others had finally begun stirring awake after their long night. They had gotten back at 5 am, the sun slowly beginning to peek through the trees and buildings of Velaris, and he had watched from afar as Lucien carried Y/N to her room.

He had not come out afterwards. His shadows had been in an unfamiliar frenzy, yelling to slip through and see what was happening in that bedroom, to investigate how good he gave it to her because Azriel just knew. He knew he could give it to her better.

He clenched his fists at the picture his shadows had painted for him of the events which probably had unfolded in her room. What was it with his sexual urges with Y/N all of a sudden? She was just his friend. She had always just been his friend. Maybe he had had a little crush on her before. Maybe when she would walk into a room and his palms would sweat, he would chastise himself for wearing too many layers. Or how when she used to make his heart beat irregularly, he would tell Rhys about anxiety. It was easier to let them think he had a disorder rather than admit feelings. Because maybe, just maybe he had had slight feelings towards her for centuries. But there was Elain now.

He liked Elain.

"Good Morning Azriel!" a sweet voice chirped, as Elain entered the dining room, a sweet tea held in her perfectly manicured hands. Even after a night out, she looked perfect. Her hair looked freshly blow-dried, and her lips tinted pink, looking fresh and kissable. He smiled gently, and her eyes brightened as she took a seat next to him, murmuring things about last night and how odd it was to see Lucien with Y/N.

"I just don't think he should have danced like that with her, what do you think?" she whispered, her eyes shining.

"I know it was disrespectful to you," Azriel nodded back, looking into her glassy doe eyes. Out of the corner of his eyes, he felt a sudden burst of movement from his shadows, but the warning wasn't quick enough as two figures walked into the room.

God, she looked horrible.

Elain let out a comical gasp, and the corner of his mouth lifted as Y/N walked into the room, her hair messy and disturbed, like someone had pulled on it, ran their hands through it. Her presence snatched on his gaze, it pulled it towards him, and Azriel found himself unable to look away.

Her eyes lazily dragged over Azriel, raking up his body, and never before had he felt so hot. But he did not break eye contact with her either, he maintained it, willing and daring her to break it first.

Their eyes met in a silent battle of wills, a tension simmering beneath the surface as they sized each other up. It was a fleeting moment, but it spoke volumes, leaving Azriel reeling in its wake.

"Lucien, can we talk?" Elain broke the silence.

Everyone blinked and looked at the innocent girl sitting down. Azriel watched as she looked into Lucien’s eyes, with her innocent look, and he mentally chuckled. She was doing damage control, and it was working because his shadows were reporting the increase in Lucien’s heartbeat.

“Of course,” Lucien whispered and pushed past Y/N, whisking Elain away out of the room.

Charged silence followed. Azriel went back to nursing his coffee which had gone cold now. He felt Y/N scoff and mutter something under her breath which sounded a whole lot like "bitch," as she moved around the place, into the connecting kitchen, trying to will the House to make her a cup of its strongest coffee. They didn’t say a word to each other, but Azriel could feel the tension in the air. He didn’t know where it had formed from, what abyss it had risen from, he just knew there was something that needed to be addressed between them before his head and his heart exploded.

“What was that from last night?” he let out a breath finally, his shadows jittering around the place. He looked up from his swirling black coffee to see Y/N cease her movements in the corner of the kitchen. Her short night dress, barely covering her ass, had ridden up as she had been bent over the kitchen bench. Azriel felt himself stiffen, so he looked away quickly, adjusting himself.

“What do you mean,” she replied, turning around with a neutral expression on her face, guarding her emotions. She carefully padded her way to the table, setting the coffee down and placing herself directly in front of him. Her scent wafted over him, and his jaw ticked, but he didnt show any emotion. His dark eyes bore into hers, his shadows fought to sift over her, wanting to know her thoughts, her feelings, her emotions. Alas, she showed nothing.

“You and Lucien…” he drawled out, pretending to ask nonchalantly.

“We just danced to Azriel, I was really drunk,” she whispered softly, placing her hands together on her lap.

“You emerged from the same room,” he replied calmly.

As she cocked her head to the side, her hair falling onto her face, time seemed to slow down. Her long eyelashes were stunning, and her deep eyes looked at Azriel with something so unsaid, that the raw intensity sent shivers down his spine.

Azriel knew at that moment that he could no longer leave these unanswered feelings of his left hanging. He wasn't a dumb male; if his body was responding to Y/N like this for so long, there was clearly a reason. And it was not a dumb crush.

He had forced himself to believe for so long, that Elain should belong to him. Three brothers for three sisters, that is what he would tell himself.

Yet something had shifted between them two, a subtle undercurrent that left Azriel reeling. It was something deeper, something undeniable. And as he met Y/N's gaze, he knew that he could no longer ignore the pull that drew him to her, the pull of something real, something worth fighting for.

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pretty-little-mind33 · 26 days

Text

You All Over Me

Kraven The Hunter x fem!reader

Summary: You meet a dangerous stranger in the woods...

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: kinda dark but still tame, cheating (reader), unprotected sex (pls use contraceptives in real life!), oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, degradation kink, rough sex, riding, he spits in reader's mouth 👀, kissing (duh), fingering, light misogyny, ik he has a name but i use Kraven in this, bad russian google translate maybe (I AM SO SORRY I DID MY BEST—if you speak Russian and have any suggestions… please 🙏 )

LISTEN…I'M SORRY LIKE I COULD NOT RESIST WRITING FOR HIM…HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? Probably NOT comic accurate…

You don't know what you hate more at the moment—your boyfriend or the continuous sweat forming on your hairline from the dampness and heat. It's becoming dark outside, which should cool the air and help with the heat but not as much with how pissed you are at Chris.

With a small squeal, you stumble on the roots of a tree, gasping as your ankle twists awkwardly in your hiking shoes and the buzz of an insect flies around your ear. You swat your hand near your cheekbone. You're holding the branches you'd found in one arm now as the stickiness of the air makes your skin feel heavy.

Screw you bugs!

Screw you woods!

And most of all screw you Chris!

You're too immersed in your hatred that you don't realize you've fallen into an animal trap until it's too late. You scream, the branches falling from your arm as your body folds and the net wraps around you, pulling you up into the air. The rope burns your exposed skin as you squirm. This had to be a nightmare, some sick cruel joke Chris is playing on you. You half hope he'll jump out from behind the bushes and laugh in your face.

You wait in silence for a moment but your boyfriend doesn't show up.

"Help!" You scream out helplessly, "Is anyone there? Please, I-I'm trapped," you call.

"Hmm, yes, that is the point of one of those," a deep voice drawls from behind you and you wince. You try to strain your neck to look at the newcomer but you can't move enough to see who it is. It certainly isn't Chris. Chris doesn't sound like that.

"Please, can you help me?" you plead shamelessly now.

Your heart is beating so hard. You hear the creak of leaves and dirt as whoever stands behind you walks closer to you. You feel them turn the entire net around and soon you're face to face with dark piercing golden eyes. A color you can only describe as supernatural.

"Now why would I help you? You stumbled into my trap—that makes you my prize."

The man is tall and strong. His shoulders are broad and his hair curls messily across his forehead. He's wearing an open vest made of brown leather and adorned with fur, thick leather bracers, and a necklace where three animal teeth hang.

You concentrate on the sharpness of the teeth for a while, ignoring how very much shirtless the man is against them, but eventually you lose focus as with a swift motion, he uses a knife he'd taken from his belt to cut the net and you crash to the ground.

Immediately, the dirt sticks to your sweaty skin as you scramble up onto your feet. You brush hair from your face and stumble back, almost falling again until the man's large, calloused hand finds your forearm and he holds you still. "Calm down," he says hoarsely, his eyes narrowing and his grip tightening.

"You don't wanna run from me, gorgeous. Clearly, you don't know your left and right around here but I do. So, stay still for me so I can think about what I'm gonna do with you."

He has a thick accent and you find yourself nodding. He drops your arm and you don't move. You look up at him as he looks around, rubbing his hand over his jaw like he's debating his next moves. You can see his knife, which he has secured into his belt again, glistens with blood and your stomach churns.

"Please don't hurt me," you whisper.

The man stares at you blankly, his eyebrows crease as he looks you up and down. After a moment, the corners of his lips curl upwards and he moves closer. You squeeze your eyes shut, scared, and you gasp inaudibly as a tear escapes you.

The man's thumb wipes it away, his hand cupping your cheek and he speaks a language you don't understand—russian you assume—"Я бы никогда не подумал причинить тебе боль, (I would never dream of hurting you)," His tone seems sweeter than how he'd spoken before but all hopes of him translating what he'd said disappear when he asks:

"Why are you out here all alone?"

You recover from his touch as it leaves you and you try and explain, "I'm not alone. My boyfriend," you turn to look behind you but all you see is the trees and hear the rustling of animals in the shadows, "is around here somewhere," you finish.

"He left you? Alone? Now? It's almost dark," the man accuses as if it had been your choice.

"I- I was supposed to bring branches for the fire," you say quickly, gesturing to the branches that had fallen from your arms. The man looks where you're pointing and chuckles darkly.

"Oh, милый (darling), those aren't branches. Those aren't even twigs."

You glare at him, not finding it funny at all, "Well, I couldn't carry the heavier ones," you defend and the man interrupts with another chuckle.

"Ah," he smirks, "so why was it you who went out? Can your man not care for you properly?"

You scrunch your nose, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The man's smirk turns into a smile, his teeth showing, and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach as he smiles. He's handsome—almost too handsome for someone who looks like they live in the woods.

"I mean," he drawls, leaning in even closer, "what kind of man allows his woman to do all his labor, leaving her on her lonesome and vulnerable to bad men like me?" Your breath hitches and your eyes widen when he finishes, "Your man is a pathetic little boy who doesn't deserve a woman like you."

Your mind races. You want to defend Chris, tell this man that Chirs is an amazing, loving, boyfriend—but another part of you can't deny Chris had basically coerced you onto this hike, on your birthday nonetheless, and then promptly abandoned you to fend for yourself.

However, those details weren't what your mind latched onto. No. As you stare at the handsome stranger, his words ring in your ears; "bad men like me"

The man can tell and he chuckles, "Don't look so scared. I like you. You're the most entertainment I've had in a while. Come," he beckons you over, turning around and gathering his net over his shoulder. When you don't follow instantly he calls out, "I can offer you shelter and food, and a fire," he adds with a glance over his shoulder, "Unless you'd rather find your way back to your boyfriend. Your choice, милый (darling)."

So, you end up in the man's home. The man—who had finally introduced himself as Kraven— lives in a small cabin that's obviously been worn out by time and weather. All the furniture looks barely used—as if there hasn't been life inside this cabin for a long time.

Kraven's hospitality is coarse and oddly demanding as he pours you some honey tea he made himself and hands you some bread. You don't complain, you're starving. As Kraven makes a fire, he mumbles things in Russian and occasionally he'll look over at you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your hair is wet from the shower you just had and the strands stick to your cheeks.

Your mind wanders to Chris. Is he okay? It is a warmer night—so he really shouldn't freeze to death. You feel guilty for having accepted Kraven's offer but your thoughts are interrupted by the fire starting and Kraven stands. He runs a hand in his curls and drops his vest on the couch near you. You look up, suddenly extra aware of how shirtless and toned he is.

"Продолжай смотреть на меня так, и у меня не будет другого выбора, кроме как трахнуть тебя прямо здесь и сейчас, милый, (Keep looking at me like that and I'll have no choice but to fuck you right here and now, darling)," Kraven says in a growl and the only word you recognize is the last one since he's used it a few times.

"What does милый mean?" you ask, attempting to pronounce the word but fumbling it. Kraven smirks and tilts his head as he walks closer until he's sitting next to you.

"It's a term of endearment," he chuckles, "like darling—or honey."

You feel your cheeks burn. It's almost worse to hear him explain the term rather than just using it. You look down at your hands, feeling Kraven's warmth next to you. He smells like pine-wood and ashes and the scent is invading. You feel safer near him then you'd ever felt in Chris's arms. Guilt settles in your stomach again.

"Ты так сладко пахнешь. (you smell so sweet)," Kraven says again and his hand comes up to move some stray hairs behind your ear. The air shifts and sexual tension settles around you and the feeling dances across your skin with fervor.

You don't dare turn your head to look at him, afraid of how he's staring. "What does that all mean? The Russian?" you mutter.

"It means I want to kiss you, doll," Kraven chuckles and his hand cups your chin and he turns your head so you're staring at him. Your eyes are round and he chuckles, "what do you say милый (darling)? Will you indulge me? I wanna see if you taste as good as I think you do."

Your heart jumps in your throat and suddenly you feel very small compared to him. Your eyes flicker to his lips and then up to look into his eyes. They sparkle darkly and you wonder if anyone has ever been able to say no to those eyes. You surely won't be the first. You nod.

Kraven leans in and captures your lips with passion so fierce you're afraid your lips will bruise. Still, they slide across his easily and it's as if you've been molded for one another. Kraven's hands tighten in your hair, bunching up the strands so he can control your head movements. Control. His entire demeanor screams control.

"Good girl," he mutters with a smirk against your lips and his hands move to grip your hips. You're wearing some shorts and a shirt you found in the bedroom when you changed from your shower.

You gasp as he helps you up and you straddle him now. With a humph, he lifts up his hips and slides his knife holster to the side so it isn't digging into your thigh or his. He grins wolfishly, continuing to kiss you. His lips trail up your neck and near your ear.

It never felt like this with Chris. Sure, it had been fine—it had been good even in the beginning—but this? No, nothing could compare to this.

Kraven's hands are large and strong against your skin as he kneads your waist and ass. "Ты такая хорошая девушка для меня (You're such a good girl for me)," he whispers, his voice hoarse, and as attractive as it is, you whine and furrow your brows.

"Please, don't talk in Russian anymore. I can't understand you," you pout, pulling him closer as you unconsciously grind your hips into his for more friction. "I wanna understand you,"

Kraven grips your hips harder and rolls them onto him, earning him a soft moan that falls from your lips. "Alright, darling, alright," he smiles and kisses you again. "Tell me, do'you want more from me? Seems like you do," he grinds your hips again, punctuating his words as he teases you mercilessly.

You are at loss for words. This is wrong. You're cheating on your boyfriend, you try to remind yourself, with a man you met in the woods. But if this is so wrong, why does it feel so good? You moan. You desperately want to slide your shorts and panties down to allow even more friction on your clit. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you must look so needy.

Kraven hooks his fingers in your waistband, running his thumb over your hip, reading your mind, "Is this what you want, darling? You wanna rub yourself on me like a little slut?"

The insult shouldn't be as hot as it is, but when it's followed by a searing kiss, the word is honey on his tongue. You moan and drop your head in the crook of his neck, grasping onto his shoulders as you lift your hips so he can easily slide your panties and shorts down. "Please," you whisper, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders.

Kraven smirks and, as he holds your nape with one hand, he uses the other and finds your pussy. He explores your folds, wanting to make sure you're wet and ready for him. He rubs your clit, earning him smaller, more high pitched sounds from your parted lips as your wetness seeps over his hand.

Kraven teases you for a little while longer, murmuring praises in your ear until he suddenly spreads his legs and you fall to your knees in front of the couch. You gasp, looking up at him from the ground.

He looks majestic, sitting there, as if the couch was his throne and he was a King.

Kraven's smirk widens as he fists one hand in your hair, using his other hand to lick his fingers clean of your arousal and then swiftly unbuckle his belt. He stares at you as he does this and tilts his head. "D'you do this for your boyfriend, gorgeous?" Kraven seems amused by the word boyfriend, as if it's some game to him.

You nod, sinking onto your heels as you watch Kraven pull out his cock. He's big and hard and your eyes widen. "D'you like doing this?" he asks, his voice low. You catch his eye and shake your head honestly. You didn't like giving Chris head—but Chris's dick didn't look like this. Your eyes snap up to Kraven's cock.

"You'll like it with me," he adds, smirking, and guides your head to his cock. You let him, having no complaints as you take him in your mouth. You're nervous at first, unsure of what to do, but soon you gain more confidence as you try and take him even deeper.

You gag a little and Kraven just tightens his hand in your hair.

"You can take it. I know you can, doll. There," he coos, clearly enjoying your work as you adjust your mouth around him. "There, yeah. That's my good girl." Kraven grunts out the word "my" and warmth pools in your stomach. You moan around his cock, sucking faster as if to respond yes, I am yours.

With a pop, he pulls your head away and tilts your chin. He helps you up to straddle him again, keeping you eye level as he positions his cock at your entrance. He squeezes your cheeks, opening your lips, and then spits into your mouth before claiming your lips again. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him against you and he sinks you down onto him.

"Can you feel me, милый (darling)?" he grunts, moving you on his cock slowly, torturing you. He chuckles darkly when you whine.

"Mmh," is the only sound you make as he fills you up. It feels so good.

"You feel full, hm?" Kraven taunts, moving your hips a little faster as his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise. He pulls one away a moment and rips your shirt, attaching his lips to your hardened nipples as you squeal.

"Yes, oh, I feel so full," you whimper, bouncing up on him, helping him so you can go even faster and deeper. "Shit, you're so big."

"Шлюха (slut)," he groans, the word slipping past his lips in ecstasy as he kisses and sucks across your chest. You whine, wanting him to tell you what the word means so you can understand him but Kraven smirks. He kisses your collarbone and then, using his strength, he easily flips you over so you're laying on the couch and he's on top of you now.

Kraven sinks his cock back into you as he snaps his hips hard. You gasp, wrapping your arms around him and your nails slide up and down his back, and he groans with pleasure at the sting.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck please," you plead, eyes rolling as your body shivers.

"You're so tight around me. As if you were made just for me," he says as he continues to fuck into you. "Does your boyfriend fuck you this good?" Kraven asks, his accent thicker as he loses himself in the pleasure. His hand comes to wrap around your jaw as he holds you in place under him.

You shake your head.

"Слова (Words)," he growls but then curses and says, "Words, darling. Tell me."

"N-no. He doesn't fuck me this good," you whisper as Kraven's cock slides into you. You're so wet and he's so hard and this is so so wrong.

"Yeah? You gonna run back to him now, bunny?" he snarls and nips as your earlobe. He thrusts harder and smirks at the pet name. "Hmm. run little bunny, back to your poor excuse of a boyfriend? No," Kraven grunts, as if he's made a decision, "I'm keeping you, doll. I can take care of you better than he can."

You moan at this and nod, "Please," you whisper, feeling your thighs clench around him as you can feel your orgasm approaching.

Kraven feels it too. "You're squeezing around me, Шлюха (slut), do you wanna come?" Kraven teases and his thrusts slow. You whine and look at him, your eyes becoming teary from need. You nod.

He laughs and kisses your lips with a grin, "Alright, you can come. Go on, let yourself come all over my cock," he smirks against your skin as his sharp teeth nip at your neck.

You whine, letting your body finally relax as you come. You gasp, your eyes rolling from pleasure as your legs feel like jello. Kraven finishes inside you with a grunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He smiles as you sink into the cushions and your eyes flutter. His large hand comes to hold behind your head as he pulls you up and leans you against his chest.

While Kraven's touch is comforting, it's also possessive and claiming. His thumb strokes over your hair and his lips kiss your head. He's holding you so close you're almost afraid he'll never let you go. You sigh when he slides out and picks you up in his arms as he stands.

"Good girl," he mutters as he walks you to the bathroom and adds, "You did so well for me." You let yourself relax in his arms as he promises he'll be here from now on. You're his now.

You're so blissed out from your orgasm that your mind doesn't understand what that truly means. Instead, you shut your eyes and let him take care of you and, with a small smile, you think,

Happy. Fucking. Birthday. To. Me.

#kraven the hunter #kraven x reader #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven the hunter x y/n #kraven the hunter x fem!reader #kraven the hunter x you #kraven the hunter movie #marvel #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #marvel kraven the hunter #marvel movies #sony movies #spiderman #tw smut #tw dark themes

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intoxicated-chan · 4 months

Text

𝐈𝐭❜𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐮𝐭!

Summary ➳ When you and the rest decide to sneak up on an Orc camp, you receive an injury. You believe you can handle it yourself but Legolas thinks otherwise.

(A/n) ➳ I AM SO SORRY! Tumblr ended up deleting the request but I remember it but not all of it so forgive me if this isn’t what you wanted. If it isn’t then don’t hesitate to shoot a message or request again!! I also learned that apparently the Fellowship traveled at night and slept during the day. I seriously did not know that until today.

Word Count ➳ 1.5k

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, description of violence, blood, death, stitching, blood loss, angst-to-fluff…

“There must be some other way.” Legolas uttered to Boromir. “You cannot believe that sending (Y/n) out to assassinate the Orcs is the best solution.”

“She won’t be alone, Aragorn will be there with them.” Boromir replied. “The two of them will attack from above while we attack from below.” He drew his sword, walking closer to the Orc that was alone. He was swift with it, moving behind the Orc and slitting its throat. “See? Wasn’t that hard.”

You took a deep breath as you aimed your bow, you kept your focus on the leader. You could see from the corner of your eye Aragon sneaking up on the other two. You knew he was waiting on your signal and he would wait however long, but you were all on a strict time.

Another deep breath and- “Hey!” You shouted out of instinct, Legolas’s arrow went through the Orc’s head, killing him but you brought attention to yourself.

You jumped down from the tree and quickly nocked, drew, aimed, and released at one Orc that was reaching for its weapon. You swerved past another arrow, more flying past your head until you took cover over a giant rock.

Before you could nock another arrow, an Orc came from behind, grabbing your arms to throw you against the ground. You rolled when he attempted to stab you, dodging more swings until you managed to kick his sword away.

He charged at you, taking your knife that was strapped to your leg, and used it against you. You used your bow to block a couple of slashes until he fell to the ground. Instead of standing, he got onto his knees and managed to stab you in your thigh.

You let out a scream but in return, you shot an arrow through his head. Your breathing staggered as your hand wrapped around the knife and slowly pulled it out and then covered it with terrible bandaging.

“(Y/n)!” Legolas popped up a few seconds later. “I heard you scream.”

“I believed I twisted my ankle.” You covered your wound with your as best as you could, smiling through the pain.

“Let me help you.” Legolas took your hand, helping you walk to the rest of the group. Luckily, your cloak covered your bleeding wound and your dark pants were enough to hide the blood seeping out. “We just have a couple more hours before daylight.”

Like Legolas said, Aragorn finally decided that it was time to rest. “We will set out when it becomes dark.” He told you all before he started to set up his makeshift bed.

Legolas looked over your ankle, looking closely and pressing against it, looking back at you for a reaction. “It doesn’t seem to be twisted, but it may be strained. You have been jumping a lot, and might have happened when your footing was incorrect.”

You could practically feel the sweat running down your forehead. “Does it seem bad?”

Legolas smiled, his usual smile that was beaming with kindness. “No, the pain should fade later. Are you in pain or hurt anywhere else?”

“No, no, thank you.” After Legolas joined Aragorn, chatting. It wasn’t long before it was just murmurs among the Fellowship. Sam and Frodo were cooking together, Gimli was most likely perched up against a tree sleeping, but you didn’t know about the rest.

You were farther into the forest, a needle and thread in your hand. You placed a thick piece of fabric in between your teeth and bit down, you used your other hand to keep the gash close together so you could stitch it.

You let out a strained cry as you attempted to stitch your wound yourself but it was difficult due to your vision blurring. You didn’t know how long you were out here, so focused on closing your wound that you didn’t hear branches breaking or leaves crunching.

“You’re hurt.” Legolas’s voice broke you out of your concentration. You could see the panic in his eyes, he kneeled by your side, taking the needle from you and moving your hand from your thigh. “And you’re doing it incorrectly. You’re hurting yourself more.”

He used his other hand to pull a container of water, and flushed out your wound. “How did you get this? And when?”

“Just a couple hours ago.”

“And you’ve been bleeding this entire time?” Legolas’s voice was filled to the brim with regret, like he was ashamed of himself. He carefully threaded the thread into your skin, making sure it wasn’t too tight or too loose.

You took out the cloth from your mouth. “Look Legolas, I’m still alive and well.” You tried to ease him. “I’ll be alright, I’m okay.”

“I should’ve known, you have been moving slower, as well as your reaction time.” He acknowledged. Once he finished stitching your wound, he poured water again to wash out the rest of the dried blood.

He helped you to your feet, throwing your arm over his shoulder and an arm around your waist. He moved at a slow pace back to camp, everyone was now asleep, save it for Aragorn who just watched you both silently.

He helped you lay down. “I’ll be fine.” You repeated yourself, it felt like the hundredth time.

Legolas shook his head. “Please, do not hide anything. You shouldn’t be silent about these kinds of things.”

As if waking up very early in the morning couldn’t be any better, Orcs have seemed to find you all. You had a feeling that they were stalking you all, waiting for the moment to attack. You used your bow instead of your sword, making sure none of the Orcs came close to the Hobbits.

An Orc charged at you. You dodged the first couple of swings but not the kick to the leg, making you kneel and it felt like the stitches broke.

You screamed as you used your arrow to stab it into the Orc’s shoulder. Legolas’s arrow came from behind and slew the bastard and Merry came to your side to help you stand.

“Run into the forest!” Boromir shouted, blocking the sword coming down at him. “Go! Quickly!”

Merry helped you speed through the forest. You suddenly felt sick, like you wanted to pass out. But it wasn’t long before the Orcs gave up the chase and Merry sat you against a tree.

“They’re bleeding!” Merry alerted the rest of the Fellowship.

Legolas dropped in front of you, pushing your hands away from the wound. “I need a needle and thread.” He said, more like demanded. “Or a cloth to stop the bleeding.”

Aragorn ripped a piece of his shirt and handed it to Legolas, he snatched it and was quick to tie it around your wound. “I’ll need some herbs, in case the wound becomes infected.” Sam shuffled through his bag. “Luckily you should be able to walk but not run.”

You swore under your breath. “It seems the Orcs are watching us at all times.” You looked up at Aragorn. “What do we do?” You asked him.

“There may be another camp nearby.” Aragorn replied. “Boromir, Legolas, we need to search.”

“Someone should stay and protect the Hobbits.”

“Gimli is here and (Y/n) still has the strength to use their bow.”

“But what if they need to retreat? What will happen then?” Legolas still pressed, wanting to remain by your side. “We cannot put the Hobbits at risk, especially the ringbearer.”

“Gimli will be here, just go with them.” You told him.

“I will not.”

Aragorn was too annoyed to even put up an argument anymore. “Let us go then.”

When they were out of sight, you pushed his shoulder slightly. “What was that?” You asked him, confused out of your mind.

“Someone must be here to protect the Hobbits-”

“I know that, it would’ve been fine. They are taking care of the camp, the Orcs won’t be nearby to bother us.” You once again tried to explain to him. “What is going on with you? Are you still feeling guilty?”

“No-”

“Doesn’t seem like that.” Your breathing hitched as you attempted to stand.

Legolas grabbed your warm to stop you. “You cannot be moving at the moment. Give yourself time to relax.”

“It’s just a small cut!”

“A cut that could’ve killed you.”

You huffed. “What is going on with you Legolas?”

“Becoming reckless is one thing but hiding a serious injury that could have killed you is another. It makes me worry, it makes me question if you have more injuries you’ve hidden.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about the wound. I didn’t think that it would mean so much for you.” You admitted.

“I worry, I worry every single day, every fight, during the night and during the daybreak. Will the morrow be the day where someone or something takes you from me?” His hand grazed over your wound. “I just want to know I’ve done everything and anything.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized again.

“Just promise me, I do not care how small it is or how big, please do not hesitate to ask for help.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

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wileys-russo · 10 months

Note

First time calling Alessia ‘baby’?

short n sweet.

baby II a.russo

"but i like it better when you make it!" the blonde smiled as she rested her chin on her fist, looking back at you adoringly as you rolled your eyes playfully.

"correct me if i'm wrong here less but i think when you invite someone over for dinner its generally not so that they cook it for you!" you teased, but regardless began to grab out the necessary ingredients already knowing where everything was, comfortable and familiar in alessia's small flat.

only living the floor above her in the block, there was seldom a day that passed where either one of you didn't spend some amount of time in the others home.

you had first encountered one another the day she moved in. you were returning home from a rather stressful work shift, rummaging around in your pocket for your house key when you heard a rather loud crash from downstairs.

racing down you found the then unfamiliar blonde laying on the floor with a defeated sigh, boxes scattered around her where she had obviously tripped over something and sent them flying.

"hi, do you need a hand?" you bit your lip to refrain from laughing at the scene in front of you, alessia's head darting toward you with a mortified expression, cheeks tinted a rosy pink with embarrassment.

"she needs more than a hand she needs an entirely new body. less you're such a clumsy idiot!" a shorter brunette had then stuck her head out of the girls front door, rolling her eyes and bending down to collect a box before venturing back inside.

"i'm y/n. you just moving in?" you asked with a friendly smile, hopping down the last two stairs and offering her a hand up. "i'm alessia, and yeah. sorry for the bother! i was basically unofficially born with two left feet." the taller girl joked, rubbing the back of her neck nervously, admittedly a little more stunned at your beauty than the fall she'd just had.

"less man you gonna stand around flirting all day or get her number and come and help me?" the brunette returned, sending alessia's cheeks an even darker shade of red at the comment. "tooney!" the girl hissed as the shorter of the two shot you a wink and grabbed another box.

"she's very single." the girl notified you bluntly as alessia looked back in horror at her best friend who quickly made herself scarce. "sorry about her." alessia mumbled in embarrassment, unsure how else to really continue on after the interruption.

"she seems fun." you grinned, eyeing a pen on the floor and feeling a sudden unfamiliar wave of confidence roll through you. "give me your hand." you motioned as alessia looked at you with confusion but did so anyway, you quickly scribbled your number down on her wrist and placed the pen in her palm.

"oh, thanks!" alessia perked up, twisting her wrist to read the numbers as you headed back upstairs, hearing her friend call out for her to hurry up from inside.

"oh and for the record, i am also very single." you smiled shyly before disappearing out of view, only letting out a breath after you'd closed your own apartment door.

it had been several weeks since then, and with a very insistent ella urging her on alessia had asked you out for coffee that very next day, and then you'd asked her to the movies, and your ongoing back and forth of dates had commenced.

though nothing yet had been made official, the two of yet to properly talk out how you were feeling, there was a strong connection building.

"hey i invited you over purely for the pleasure of your company, the cooking for me is just an added bonus." alessia winked cheekily as you shook your head with a smile, flicking on her stove top. "well then the least you can do is be my sous chef." you placed a chopping board, a knife and a variety of different vegetables in front of the striker.

"if you can manage that without injury." you teased as the blonde now rolled her own eyes, mocking you under her breath. "can you do the carrots first please baby." you'd asked casually before turning back to the stove, not even at first registering what you said.

"what did you just say?" alessia breathed out, she having most definitely registered the new term of endearment. "i said can you do the carrots first please baby." you repeated, your eyes widening as you heard yourself, unable to force yourself to turn around to see her reaction.

"sorry, i didn't mean to-sorry." you shook your head, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks as you busied yourself filling the pot with water. "you don't need to be...baby." alessia replied, a rosy pink glow coating her own cheeks as she also refused to look toward you to see your reaction.

unknowingly you both smiled shyly to yourselves, butterflies erupting in your stomachs. a few beats of silence passed before you quickly changed the topic, asking her how training had been.

even though neither of you had discussed it, it seemed you had both just confirmed that in fact the connection was mutual, and you were both excited to keep exploring it.

#woso x reader #woso #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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allbark-no-bite · 10 months

Text

kiss me and apologize || Carmen Berzatto x reader

summary: from private chef to working in a rundown restaurant in Chicago, your life does a 180 as you try to fit into the world that is the Beef. Richie isn’t helping and Carmen just can’t figure you out

word count: 3.7k

warnings: swearing, mentions of michael’s death/suicide

author’s note: so um i guess i write for the Bear now?? official obsessed with the show and was inspired by all of the great writers that write for Carmy on here :)

"Carmen? The door?"

"What—? Oh yeah, yeah. Sorry."

He turns towards the door, fumbling for the key with numb fingers, his face burning hot.

He wasn't used to anyone else besides himself showing up to the restaurant so early in the morning, and he definitely wasn't used to you and your pink cheeks and and warm smile greeting him at the door. You were a new hire to the Beef, a godforsaken miracle dressed in oversized overalls who had shown up two weeks ago and been hired by Sydney on the spot.

She had been smitten with you from the start, dead set on hiring you without so much as a second interview.

"—studied in Copenhagen, worked at multiple Michelins in New York. I mean look at this, Carmen. She's a private chef in the Hamptons. We would be stupid not to hired her."

And you were great. You are great. Except for the fact that you're really fucking distracting.

"You sure you got it, chef?"

Carmen can't even blame the heat rising from his cheeks from the cold at this point because his hands are sweating as he jiggles the door knob that somehow always seems to get jammed at the worst possible moments. This is one of those moments.

Finally, he hefts his weight against the door while twisting the knob and it busts open. A muffled snort escapes you from behind him. Carmen steps inside, holding the door open for you with a small wave of his hand. "Sorry. I'm sure this crap isn't what you were expecting when you applied here—"

He's rambling, stomach twisting in knots. His nerves always screw up his stomach—maybe he'll pop a few Tums before—

"It's fine, Camren," you assure him, stepping in from the cold, body pressing against his in the small entry way. "I like it here."

I like you.

"Yo, am I interrupting something, cousin? You and the princess wanna take that shit somewhere else?" Richie's shout can be heard from all the way across the parking lot, and it makes Carmen visibly cringe.

"Fuck off, cousin," Carmen mutters, reluctantly breaking away from you.

Still standing in the doorway, you huff, whatever moment you and Carmen had shared broken by Richie's arrival. The taller man stomps up the front steps, shaking snow from his boots.

So far, he had been the only staff member you found unbearable. Even Tina had warmed to you after a few weeks and now took great pleasure in listening to your elaborate stories as a private chef. Richie, on the other hand, hated your guts.

"You just gonna stand there and let all the fuckin' cold air in? I'll let Sugar know to take the heating outta your paycheck."

"Fuck off, Richie."

The morning is only the beginning of his wrath.

——

"Richie, you fucking imbecile—"

"Every single time you open your mouth, all I hear is this fuckin' bullshit. Jesus, you're so fuckin' high and mighty with your fancy ass college degree," he sneers, looming over you. If he stepped any closer you would have lacked the self control not to hit him. "You wanna come in here, act like you know everything because daddy sent you to school—"

"You don't have to fucking like me, Richie, but what you're not going to do is push me around and be an egotistical misogynist just because you have a set of balls. So give me my fucking knife."

Richie's hand is in the air beside your head, waving about in wild gesticulation that he does not have your knife, or any fucking knife for that matter. "I don't have your shit!"

With your jaw clenched together, you breathe in deeply through your nose and take in the taller man through narrowed, disbelieving eyes. "Fine." You turn on your heals and storm off. "CARMEN."

Richie throws his hands up and scoffs at your retreating back, yelling after you. "Ohh go ahead, fuckin' call mommy. Like I'm scared of him," he snorts.

"CARMEN!" Your fury only fueled by Richie's taunts, your stride quickens as you shove your way through the chaos of the kitchen, dodging both Sydney and Marcus.

"Woah, chef. What's the matter?" Sydney asks as you whip past her, her hands busy with mashing potatoes, but you don't stop to answer, instead rounding the corner like a woman on a mission.

"CARMEN—"

"—What?!" At the third sound of his name, Carmen finally jerks his head up from his prep station, only to be met with you head on. "What's going on, chef?" he repeats, looking back down to his station after taking in your vexed disposition and gathering that no one's dying. He puts on these sort of metaphorical blinders once he's in the kitchen and nothing, not even you, is going to distract him from what he does best. He becomes an entirely different animal in the kitchen.

"That fucking dickwad has my knife and he won't give it back. How am I supposed to—"

Still urgently chopping carrots, Carmen cuts you off. "Chef, just get another knife," he instructs, stepping around you to dump a pile of sliced carrots into the bin.

His dismissal throws you for a loop and leaves you open mouthed, protest caught in your throat. Just this morning he had been stuttering nervously, cheeks flushed as you stood waiting for him to unlock the staff door. Now he's biting and abrasive, domineering in the way he takes control of the kitchen. You know he's just doing his job, doing whatever it takes to keep his head above the water—keep everyone's head above the water, but right now you want to scream at him. "Just tell him to—"

"Yes, Chef," he provides, indicating that he's done refereeing yours and Richie's squabble. He moves across the station so that you have to step sideways to avoid being in his way.

"But I—"

"Yes, Chef?" Carmen effectively cuts you off with a hard stare, momentarily stopping his urgent chopping. His blue eyes are fixating despite their look of wild urgency.

When it becomes obvious that arguing your point further is going to get you nowhere, you nod, growling a reluctant, 'Yes, Chef.'

If Carmen notices your attitude, he either pointedly ignores it or is too busy shouting at Tina about onions to care. You grab a knife laid out at one of the empty stations, purposefully shoving Richie as you round the corner.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Mommy didn't take your side?" he calls from the expo station "Didn't fuckin' see that coming."

You ignore him, deciding that he's not worth anymore of your energy for the time being. There's an entire rack of ribs that needs to be sliced and it's going to take you twice as long with this poor excuse of a knife.

"Chef, how are those ribs coming?" Sydney calls amidst the kitchen chaos. "Doors open in fifteen minutes."

Glancing at the digital kitchen clock, panic sets into you as you realize just how much time you've lost. "Fuck," you mutter, more to yourself than anyone. "Ahh—I'm going to need at least twenty," you shout back.

"What? What's taking so long?" Sydney asks. You can hear her moving behind you, finishing up with her own prep.

"Yeah, what's takin' so fuckin' long?" Richie chimes in.

Your grip on the knife's handle tightens, but you don't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his words. "I'm working on it, Syd," you promise her, praying you can somehow speak that confidence into existence.

Richie is still running his mouth behind you. "Y'know, maybe you just aren't cut out for this. It's not too late to go back to makin' your fancy little hors d'oeuvres up in New York."

"Screw you, Richie," you mutter, your brow furrowed as you concentrate on cutting through the ribs. The knife is hardly cutting and it's taking everything in you not to just start hacking away and be done with it.

"This ain't a cocktail party. This is a real fuckin' business, and we don't need you over here messin' us up and screwin' around—"

"Screw. You. Richie."

"What was that? Can't hear you, princess," he taunts.

Just as you turn to open your mouth, ready to snap at him, the knife hits a dull spot and slips against your grip, catching your fingers along the way. Immediately you jerk your hand back, biting back a cry. The knife clatters to the ground at your feet.

"Fucking dammit!" you exclaim, clutching your bleeding fingers with your other hand.

"Oh now you've really fuckin' done it," Richie laughs, shaking his head.

You only glare at him before muttering, "Move," as you shove past him. To his credit, he doesn't say anymore as you shoulder him out of the way.

By the time you get to the back sink, there's blood seeping from between your gloved fingers and onto the floor. You have to fight back a whimper as you peal away the latex from your skin.

"Woah, woah— what the hell??"

Hands appear beside you, grabbing your own bloody hand and wrapping it tightly in a clean kitchen rag. You close your eyes, willing yourself not to faint. The pressure stings but serves to staunch the blood flow and relieve some of your dizziness.

When you open your eyes, Carmen's blue ones are staring at you worriedly. "You good, chef?"

You close your eyes again, this time not because you're dizzy, but rather to avoid the intensity of his stare. "Yeah," you manage hoarsely, finding your voice. "Yeah. Just bandage me up okay? I've still got prep to do."

Even with your eyes closed you can still feel his eyes on you. He's so close that you can feel the brush of his body against yours.

"Yeah, okay," he finally says, but you can hear the hesitation in his voice. Immediate loss fills your body as he pulls away, but then he's pressed up against you again, holding your fingers steady as he wraps them up.

It hurts and you want so badly to just let go of the cry of pain and frustration that you're holding back. But instead you bite the inside of your cheek and watch Carmen bandage your fingers like he's done it a hundred times before. When he's done, he draws your hand up to his mouth and tears the tape with his teeth. You force back a swallow when his lips brush your skin.

"This okay, Chef?" he asks, looking up at you with those ridiculously anxious blue eyes—anxious like he's always got somewhere to be, something to do, something on his mind. Now they're focused entirely on you.

Somehow you find your voice. "Y-yeah—yeah, thank you." You pause, still staring at him, not moving. "I, um—I should go finish prep..."

"Okay," he answers softly.

"Okay."

"—Hey." Before you turn to slip out of his office, Carmen calls after you. He raises a fist to his chest, tracing it clockwise over his heart.

I'm sorry.

Your brows furrow at his apology. "Carmen, it wasn't your—"

"Yes. It was," he clarifies, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the desk. "I blew you off earlier and you got hurt because of it... So I'm sorry."

From the doorframe, you offer him a half smile.

"Apology accepted, Chef." And then you leave him before he can say anymore, slipping back out into the chaos of rush hour.

——

You do end up finishing you prep before opening. Your fingers hurt like a bitch, and you may need to visit a 24 hour clinic on your way home for a few stitches, but you make it though. Rush hour was hell, your head hurts from both screaming and being screamed at, but now the Beef is closed, the kitchen is quiet, and you can just breathe.

Slowly but surely, everyone files out of the kitchen once they finish their end of the day tasks, bidding you goodbyes and see you tomorrows as they leave—except for Richie, who you flip off once his back is turned.

The bell above the front door chimes, announcing Tina's departure, and then it's just you left tending to your station. Sydney had offered to take care of it for you, seeing as you were down a hand, but cleaning your space at the end of the day gives you peace of mind and time to cool down after all the chaos.

At some point, the lights in the back office click off and heavy foot steps make their way towards the kitchen. Carmen appears beside you, arms crossed as he watches you clean. He's quiet, observing the way you scrub the already pristine table top over and over and over. You don't learn that kind of precision from working in a place like this.

You're an anomaly to him and he doesn't know what to do with you

You certainly don't fit in here with your perfectly refined private school vocabulary and your Michelin star palette and your fucking expensive gold chain necklace that's probably worth more than the rent for his apartment.

"What're you doing here?" he finally asks.

"Wiping my station?" Your voice is leaning on the defensive side and he figures that probably has to do with Richie.

"Exactly," he concedes. "So what are you doing here? Because six months ago you were making fuckin' soufflés in the Hamptons."

This time you actually kind of laugh because that statement is not too far off from the truth. "I don't know, Carmen. I was bored?"

"You don't give up the Hamptons because you're bored."

You look up at him for the first time since he's walked up. There's no bristling anger in your eyes like there was earlier when Richie took your knife—he did and you both know it. You just look at him, really look at him, and then you set down the rag and you nod. "Just like you don't give up Noma?"

Carmen holds your heavy gaze for a while. It's as if some sort of unspoken understanding passes between the two of you and eventually he sighs, nodding. "Right."

You look around at the restaurant surrounding you, the stained floors, the rundown kitchen appliances, the framed 'let it rip' note. "Natalie, uh she told me about him—Micheal... I'm really sorry. He seemed like a good guy."

His eyes follow yours to the note, and he doesn't say anything for a minute, which isn't unusual, Carmen has always been decently shy since you met him, but it makes you wonder if it was a mistake bringing it up.

Strangely enough, this is the first time that someone's brought up Michael and he hasn't wanted to slam a door in their face. Normally, he would just nod and say something like, 'yeah, he was a good guy' and that would be his way of wiggling out of another unwelcome conversation, but he doesn't. Instead, he stares at the note and wonders for the first time since Micheal died if he should have gone to the funeral.

It made him feel like a fucking asshole for not going, but he couldn't listen to all those people saying how good it was to have him back—how happy Micheal would have been to have him back—because if Micheal hadn't gone and killed himself, he wouldn't be here anyhow. He'd still be in New York. He'd still be angry at Micheal like he is now.

Carmen sighs. "I—I wish that I had talked to him more instead of just fucking off to New York. Because after that I just hated coming back too all of this... y'know? And then it was like even when I was here, he kinda just knew that I didn't want to be here, and so we spent that time just fuckin'... at each other's throats.." He trails off, sniffing to clear the choked up feeling from his throat. "Just—who the fuck does that?"

He's asking you. Who shoots themself and doesn't even leave a note? Who shoots themself and leaves their little brother to pick up the remains of their shithole restaurant?

"Well," you begin, laughing a little at the absurdity of it all. "You're talking to a girl who decided to quit her job after three years as a private chef and is now slicing spare ribs in Chicago for just over minimum wage."

The unseriousness of the confession makes him crack a smile and now he's fighting a grin off of his face. "Yeah, that was uh..." He's still chuckling, shaking his head. "That was really stupid of you. Why would you do that?"

You're fighting a smile too now, heart pumping in your chest because he's really fucking pretty when he laughs. His cheeks are flushed and his curly hair is a disheveled mess and you just want to reach over and smooth a hand through it.

Your tongue wets your bottom lip and his blue eyes don't miss the nervous habit. "Well, there's this guy..."

"Yeah?" Carmen's smiling, the tired expression on his face softened by the twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, there's this guy. And I've looked up to him my entire life. He's brilliant—like really fucking brilliant. And I promised myself that if I ever got the opportunity to work for him, I would do it."

Carmen snorts softly, glancing down at the white tile floor a bit bashfully before looking back to you again. "And now you know what a freaking psycho I am, huh?"

You can see it, him retreating back into the mellow, unsure person he becomes when he's not manning an overflowing expo station, a broken freezer, and an entire staff of chefs. It's endearing how timid he is, like he almost doesn't really know himself or how he fits in anywhere outside the kitchen. "I don't think you're a psycho, Carm. I mean, I would be a little crazy too if I had what you have on my plate."

He just nods, still a little sheepish at your praise. Just like this morning, when you had caught him at the back door before opening, he doesn't know what to do with himself when you're around.

You break the silence by turning back towards your station. "I'm going to finish up here. I don't mind locking up if you don't want to stay."

Carmen watches as you lean forward onto the toes of your beat up sneakers to grab the paper towels off the overhead shelf and the hem of your hand cropped t-shirt rides up. His first instinct is to look away because the exposed flesh of your rib cage feels like something he shouldn't be seeing, much less staring at, but it's like he freezes out of panic and now he's looking at the tattoo just under your breast.

He stands there, mouth partially open to reply back to you, but it's like his tongue is numb in his mouth and he doesn't even remember what he was going to say anymore. And then it's gone, concealed again by the hem of your white t-shirt.

When you walked into the Beef two weeks ago, your tattoos had been strangely surprising to him at first. He hadn't pictured you like that in his mind—bronzed skin and tatted forearms and cherry glossed lips—just grunge enough to make anyone who passes you look twice. Now you're all he thinks about.

"Carmy. Carmy?"

You're staring at him, head cocked to the side, brows furrowed in confusion and—God, he wants to kiss you.

"Are you oka—"

"Can I kiss you?" He blurts out the question as if he won't be able to finish it if he doesn't get it all out in one breath. Like he knows that if he doesn't ask now he's never going to have the courage to do it again, and he'll be stuck shoving down these feelings for you for the rest of his life.

When you stare at him, eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights, he knows he screwed up. His stomach drops and—fuck, he really needs a Tums right now. He looks away, hand reaching to his hair, eyes darting to the ceiling because he can't take the embarrassment of looking at you.

"I—fuck, I'm sorry. That was totally—um. I shouldn't have—"

"Shut up, Carmen."

"No, that was stupid of me. I—"

"Shut up so I can kiss you, you moron."

Stepping forward, your hand curls around the back of his neck, drawing him down to close the gap between the two of you. Even then you have to stand on your toes to reach him. Although the tense, anticipatory stiffness of his body against yours is screaming wait, you press your lips to his before he has the chance to back down.

It's everything that a first kiss should be—hot and sweet and a bit awkwardly reserved. You can tell he’s nervous. Nevertheless, you can't help the hum that escapes you at the feeling of his plush bottom lip pressed between your own. If given the choice, you’d never pull away from the warm taste of his mouth.

Carmen's breathing heavy, heart pounding in his chest, hand pressing into your back, pulling you closer as he kisses you impossibly harder. He's never kissed a girl before and he decides then and there that he never wants to kiss any girl that's not you.

It’s not clear which of you pulls away first—coming up for air more than anything—but it leaves you both nose to nose, mouths still inches from each other, still sharing the same air that you would had your mouths been connected.

“Carmen?” you ask softly, nose brushing his as you speak. You can feel his heart beating against his chest.

“Yeah?” he replies in same breathy tone.

“Did I mention I really like it here?”

#carmy the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy x you #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear #carmy berzatto imagines

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maximumkillshot · 6 months

Text

"I Can't Lose You" Part 5

Warnings: Aftermath of a miscarriage, some fluff, descriptions of grief due to losing a baby, Crying LeeKnow, There are flashes of death. Shock, Grief, There is anger... and yes that's a warning.

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Characters: Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: Ok if you read the above, you'll notice that anger is in the warnings... We are going to see a lot here. Hold on, okay? I LOVE YOU GUYS AND I AM SORRY IN ADVANCE.

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Also remember, this is a fan fic. All of the boys are so sweet IRL.

Stray Kids! Masterlist

Overall Masterlist

Previously:

That half an hour never went by quicker. They stood on the phone as they waited, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. As soon as the clock hit 8:30 am all I could hear was wind…

"We are running to you right now!" Minho said.

I could hear the occasional shove and giggle. A few minutes later there was a stampede of sneakers on the floor and as they walked in Minho said "In 3..2..1.." then he pulled the curtain back and hung up.

Now:

Everyone gave Minho a little room. He wouldn't admit it, but he has a soft spot for you, he always did. From the minute you came into their lives, Minho always treated you like a sister.

He held and still holds the utmost respect for you. He trusted you so much. He would fall asleep on you during long drives, give you the keys to his place to play with the cats, he also would talk to you about any and everything.

You still looked pale, frail, and exhausted. Your face sunken in, every move causing a slight wince. You were a shell of who you normally are. He could sense it. That is what made him want to break. Where is his bubbly, eccentric, and lively sister? Where is the sparkle in your eyes? The immediate hearty laugh that he came to know and love.

Some of his best memories with you were full of smiles and laughs. Like when you tried to learn how to cook beef Wellington and you almost burned the kitchen down and all you did was laugh and say "it's the Wellington's fault! I did what I was told to do and it decided to burn." Your smile was ear to ear and your cheeks had the cutest blush to them.

Now when he saw you, you did smirk… but not smile. It didn't reach your eyes. He could feel the hole in your heart. Fresh and still bleeding. He wanted to find where that chunk of your heart went, put it back, and stitch you back together again, even though, deep down, he knew you wouldn't get that piece back.

Minho wanted to put you back together, like what you've done for him thousands of times. He wanted to hold you and protect you, to shelter you, he wanted to take it away. All of it. As the oldest he didn't want to let it show, but he felt responsible.

How did he not see the signs? They were all right in his face. Leaving practice last minute, chuckling and giggling at his phone but refusing to show it to him, even some as blatant as he's going to meet up with a "friend". Minho still replays it in his head. Seeing Soo walk down that hallway only took the knife already in every single one of the boys' hearts and twisted it more. She was mortified when she saw the boys staring at her. Her face looked like it was already white, the blush of embarrassment was clear. He remembered everyone's faces and reactions.

Felix looked disgusted to be in the same room as her. Seungmin was glaring at her, clear that all he wanted to do was scream at her, shame her. Han almost screamed at her as well as Hyunjin. Minho had to cover Han’s mouth while Innah covered Hyunjin’s. Minho knew that they had to listen to what was happening down the hall. They had to make sure that you were okay, that’s why it was imperative for everyone to be quiet. Minho knows it takes two people to cheat, and that fact alone made all of this even worse. How could anyone do this to their best friend? She let herself out with a small ‘I’m sorry’.

But by far the worst expression was Changbin’s. Bin’s eyes still haunt Minho. He was the first to see her walking down, as he was the most on edge in the room. Seeing Soo? That shocked his system, he slowly backed up until he hit the wall farthest from the hall, clearly not his conscious being doing it. Minho could see the fact that Bin was not completely registering he was seeing her. When it finally did hit, Minho saw Bin’s being shatter for you. Minho saw as his eyes snapped from Soo to the hallway. His feet were frozen, he was trying to move closer to the hall again, wanting to move. Minho knew why he couldn’t move, he was broken for you. How do you comfort someone that was betrayed by their spouse and their best friend? He was so shocked, he let his body slide down the wall, hands in his hair. He kept looking down the hall, hearing intently, just in case he was needed but still in a crouch.

He felt a rage building at the memory, he saw himself going back to the house and dragging him here. Watching as he sees his whole life crumble in front of him. Even that wouldn't be enough payment for what he's done.

Then he looked into your eyes, kindness and strength were all he could find. After all of this shit how are you still kind? How are you strong? He thought to himself. If he was in your shoes he would’ve dropped everyone and everything. Yet here you were. Welcoming Minho in. Your broken pieces in your hands, heart still bleeding, your life crumbling in one night, Why are you looking at me like that? He thought.

A look of comforting silence, the want to help, why do you always want to help? Your hands open, showing the pieces, offering them to him…Everything is gone and you still want to give? His chest was getting tight and he didn’t know it but he started shaking slightly.

Your voice mere minutes ago playing, ‘I can’t lose you MinMin. I can’t lose my boys, m’not strong enough,’He felt his being deflate, his soul cracking. Oh… we’re all you have. You are kind, loving,giving, strong, resilient, graceful, funny, and a million other things. Why? Why did he do that to her, why I don’t understand. She didn’t do anything. She only gave, time, affection, love to everyone she meets so why? Why did he do that to her? Why did they do that to her? It makes no sense. He was subconsciously bargaining. Wishing he fell asleep in the car, or he was in some elaborate nightmare… then why isn’t the nightmare ending, he feels his heart breaking, it should be over. He’s scared, not for himself but for you. The scream was real. Bin’s reaction was real… this isn’t a nightmare I WANT TO WAKE UP!.. He already was awake.

Minho was so in his head that he didn't realize that he was crying, he was brought back by Changbin…

"Would you like to touch her? You can, Hyung." He said gently. His touch was equally as gentle, nudging Minho to the bed. Changbin loves you, a lot. A close second is Minho. No one, not even Minho could pin the type of love it is. All he knows that if you so much as get cut he is physically restraining himself not to coddle you. Which has never happened in his life, even with his exes. That’s why Bin is taking such a soft approach to this.

Changbin’s aware that he had no choice but to accept what has happened. He was there when it happened. He saw all of it. Minho didn’t. The most he heard was your scream. Which, given, is enough to understand the severity. Believing and understanding are two things. Believing is the heart. Understanding is the mind. Understanding why a door opens is completely different from believing the door can open. He understood you screamed but his mind didn’t believe that what happened actually happened.

You patted the open space you made for him to lay as you said "C'mere MinMin… you wanted a hug, yeah? I promise I won't break."

You noticed that Minho looked scared. He looked like you had asked him to throw porcelain at a wall. So you said, "I know it's a shock, but I'm here… I'm going to be okay. Can I have a hug or a cuddle please?"

He walked to you and laid down. The minute you touched his skin he started crying harder. He’s a visual person. He can imagine a move before he makes it. That same gift is why he cried harder. He knew how close it was to him visiting a corpse at a funeral home. The milisecond you touched him, he imagined himself touching you for the last time, cold, in a coffin. That sent searing pain through his heart. He had no other choice but to sob. All you did was hold him and put his head right to your chest so he could hear your heartbeat. Letting him know in your own way, that you'll be okay. That you are alive. That there's nothing for him to feel bad or responsible for.

He has been through a lot, and because of his outward nature he isn’t seen as a super touchy feely person, but he can never explain to you how happy he was that you put his head where you did. He had confirmation that you’re alive. It was beating right by his ear. Your heart is strong, you are here. He looked to Bin; whose face looked so empathetic then, as if to say to him I understand. It’s okay.

He held your waist so gently, you could barely feel it. It ghosted over your frame like the sadness rolling off of Minho himself. As he laid there, crying he noticed how close he was to your belly too. That added on yet another level of sadness and pain. He knew you would've made a great mom. You're caring, compassionate, and to top it all off you carry yourself with such strength and grace. He would've loved to see it.

Han came up to Minho and rubbed his leg as he directed the rest of the members except for Bin to hang back. Bin closed the curtain a little more.

Bin told him, "She's going to get better. She's seeing another doctor today a little before lunch and then after lunch, they're doing more tests for her iron count. But she's already feeling better."

Han said, "I know she looks really sick, but she is going to be out of the woods soon."

You said "Just having you here makes me feel so much better," and you kissed the back of his head.

Minho said, "I'm sorry. I should've seen it."

You looked at him and said "It was something no one would have dreamed of him doing. I saw odd occurrences but I just said 'he'd never do that' and here we are. You are not responsible for another man's actions, okay?"

You wiped his tears as he looked up at you, "Are you okay?" He asked with the most broken look on his face.

"I am now," you smiled at him and he just stood there for a bit. Lying on your chest while you combed through his hair with your hand while he calmed down.

After a few minutes, the curtain was opened back up and you were swarmed by hugs, kisses, and everything in between. When everything settled down you asked a question that no one expected you to.

"How is Chris doing?" You even surprised yourself with that one but you couldn't help but wonder how he was.

Minho said, "he collapsed after Bin told us the news."

I.N. continued "Everything from ‘I want to take it back’, to ‘Please God let her get through this." It was clear that he was over even giving Chan another iota of his time and breath. He didn’t tell you or anyone else about his feelings often. That’s because I.N. can come off as unfeeling, very blunt in many ways. He knew that if he were to say what he actually wanted to, it's not only going to do no good to the situation, but it’d also cause more grief for everyone involved. He just wanted the storm to be over already, the more he looks at you, though, the more he can tell that the storm just began.

None of the boys would tell you, but I.N. was very close to killing Chan last night, you see he was the only one in the same room as Minho when he called Changbin. Chris was pacing so much right next to Minho that after he yelled at him to shut the fuck up, he ducked into Han’s room, to talk to him, I.N went with him. He just wanted to hear you were okay. That was all he wanted. He heard your screams, and Hannies stunned silence for what felt like years, only to hear “I’ve gotta go.” Right after that happened I.N stormed out, looking for Chan to kill him, if it wasn’t for Seungmin heading him off, I.N. would probably be in prison right now.

Seungmin said "Oh you forgot about my favorite, ‘I promise I'll make it right’. Like he ever could." His face turned hard at that moment. Understanding that no one can bring that baby back, take that trauma away. As if a baby could so easily be forgotten, to ‘make it right’.

You didn’t know but Seungmin felt nauseous at that sentence. Knowing Chan like he does, he’d probably try to not only convince you to get back together but to try again too fast. That thought is what made bile rise in his throat as he knows that Chan is the type to try to fix things quickly before anything sets in. Just recounting those thoughts made him debate running to the bathroom to puke.

He couldn’t understand how someone could see all of the blood on Changbin, narrowly avoiding death via Changbin’s hands, and seeing the proof that a baby once was thriving in his wife and now that is not the case. Literally because of the shock that he caused. If he knew what he did he wouldn’t have said, “I’ll make it right.” He can’t raise the dead, erase your memory, hell he can’t even keep his dick in his pants, apparently; so how pray tell would he do the impossible… He can’t.

Hyunjin said, "To be honest, none of us care what it does to him because he was the cause of it. He did this to you. To all three of you. We left before we beat him within an inch of his life. We have been waiting in the parking lot since."

There are so many emotions in the room, from disgust, all the way to enraged. One of the people who was enraged was Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was the type of person to be closed off. A lot of people see him as just a pretty face but he is so much more than that. He’s a fantastic vocalist, rapper, and dancer. However, he is also an amazing artist, painting and drawing being his favorite mediums. So when you came around, Hyunjin was very hands off. You didn’t give up though, seeing his studio and complimenting him endlessly on his talents.

It took a few months for him to really warm up to you, but once he did, you couldn’t get rid of him. Honestly you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was very warm and loved to make paintings for you, especially loved studying and drawing your face. He loved the angles and the emotions your face conveys, so some days he’d just walk into whatever room you’re in and he’d start snapping photos. Then he’d disappear into his studio, then the next week he’d bring you the oil painting of your face. Every single one was so pretty and you told him that you aren’t that pretty and every time he’d say, “You aren’t pretty… You’re gorgeous and don’t you ever forget it, My Queen.” His nickname for you was “Queen”. There’s no one as beautiful and regal as a queen, which is why it fits you perfectly.

The first time he called you that nickname you giggled and said, “Hyunjin, you’re the royalty… not me.” He just told you, “Sure Prince’s are royal and handsome. But there is no one as beautiful, noble, wise, and royal as a Queen on her throne. If that isn’t you I don’t know what is.” Him being his dramatic self, kneeled down and kissed you hand, making you blush and giggle.

When he looks at you now he is enraged that Chan did something so abhorrent to the person that he considers to be the most beautiful person inside and out, to the Queen. When he sees you now, your eyes lost their spark, lost their brightness. Your gorgeous skin, pale, dull, lacking iron. Your body, weaker than he’s ever seen it be. Your laugh, half hearted. Your smile, his favorite feature, can’t even reach your eyes… All of this and more made him want to tear Chan apart.

Saying and doing the things that he did and said about you stunned everyone. Especially since you love each and every member and would walk through fire for them. All of the members could see in their heads the analogy ‘stabbed in the back’, coming to life. Both of them took a knife and stabbed you, their sister, their Queen, their best friend. In their eyes, he stabbed all of them, ripping apart the family he spent years creating, gone.

Just hearing what Chan said after he left, Felix got thrown into the memory of barely 9 hours ago, at the 3 Racha house:

Felix asked Chris to join him on the couch right after Minho and I.N. left the room to talk to Bin. Chris was still waiting outside the room and Felix called him into the living room, once more. As soon as Chris sat down Felix grilled him, “Why Chris? She would do anything for you. Walk through Hell and back, face any and every threat for you… And this is what you do? Why did you even ask her out if you knew Bin-” he got cut off.

“Don’t finish that sentence Felix.” Chan looked at him through lidded eyes, rubbing his face.

Felix could still see the marks on him, the hickeys, the light scratches on his back. If he got close enough he could still smell her on him. It made Felix sick to his stomach. Felix got angry at that, “THEN FUCKING ANSWER ME CHRIS! WHAT WAS THE POINT? WHY DID YOU HURT HER LIKE THIS?!”

“She was never supposed to know.” Chris said in a detached manner, “It was just harmless fun! I needed a release Felix, something you wouldn’t know about.”

Felix’s face broke, throwing his hands up, “Oh really? That’s disgusting. YOU are disgusting. You needed a release? How about going to your gorgeous wife and making love to her? Or y’know, go to the gym, watch some anime… LITERALLY ANYTHING OTHER THAN CHEATING!”

Chris said, “I tried all of that, Felix. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

Felix’s jaw dropped, “ You’re right, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I don’t know how we didn’t see you before. This,” he motioned to Chris’ body, “Is the real you… and it’s vile. How dare you do that to her! How dare you make her feel inferior, degrade her in her own home, in her own bed.”

Then Felix said something that he will never regret in his life, “You never deserved her. Bin should’ve been with her from DAY ONE! You are pathetic.” He glared at Chan, who got up to size up to Felix. Felix got up and matched him, unphased as he said, “I hope she leaves you. As a matter of fact, I pray that she leaves you because she doesn’t deserve to wonder what her husband is doing behind her back. She deserves to be pampered. She deserves to be with someone who actually wants to spend time with her and love her. She deserves to be taken care of. Because all she has EVER done for us, is take care of us.”

He then got in Chris’ face as he said, “I hope to GOD that she leaves you for Changbin. That way she’ll know what real love is. And if anything happens to Y/N or my niece or nephew… God help you. God help you and your whore. You both ruined two lives today and I will NEVER let you forget it. I promise you that.”

Chris didnt say anything as Felix growled with all of the base in his voice, “Now…Sit… the fuck… down.”

It was only when Han changed the subject that Felix was ripped from the memory.

Han could sense where the conversation was going and he immediately changed the subject, he started to crack jokes and mess with the other members. After a bit you yawned and reached for Bin, “Binnie…”

He looked at you, saw you yawn again, and he laid down with you, “ok come here.” He said as he gently cradled you. He petted your hair back as you wiggled yourself closer, finally sighing when you deemed Binnie close enough to let the heat seep into your bones.

Han looked and said, “Oh I get it. I am right here, perfect for cuddling and you pick him I get it.” he started smirking at you but leaned over to kiss your forehead on Bin’s chest.

Despite the noise in the room, you were out in minutes. Hyunjin was the first to notice, who nudged Felix, who then set off a chain reaction until everyone was smirking at you and Bin cuddling.

He wasn’t focused on them though, he was running his fingers through your hair, drawing random patterns on your back as he watched you sleep. It was only when he saw a faint flash that he looked up to see Hyunjin with his phone up. He looked at them and mouthed, “don’t make me laugh she just got to sleep.”

But no one was laughing. They always could tell the fondness he had for you. It was so obvious Minho would tell him to stop following you around like a puppy. It was their way of saying that they knew.

That whole thought made his face drop. In his head, he should’ve never let Chan within 100 feet of you. He went to Chan about the crush he had on you first, being one of his closest friends. He was asking for advice on how to get over his nerves and just ask you out.

Chris has psyched him out, though, saying things like, "I don't think she's into you, man. She seems a bit more interested in me. But don't worry, I'll take care of her." And "I don't know man. I mean you can try but if she rejects you, you have to be prepared for that. I wouldn't if I were you though. You seem like the friend type for her. Not the boyfriend type."

He was thinking about how he should've followed his own heart and gut, which are rarely on the same page. Both of you love working out, music, food, nutrition, the list goes on and on. One of his favorite memories with you is before anyone asked you out.

You had invited him to the Han River. He didn't know why but it was a picnic you set up for him especially. He had gotten very stressed out during a meeting with the execs in the company he works for. They had told him to lose weight… yet again. He doesn't feel comfortable at a lower weight. He feels physically weaker, his mind not as sharp.

You yourself had tried to explain to Chan what Bin was feeling. That’s largely because you have always struggled with feeling good at the weight you were at but everyone told you, you were just too big. When you had gone through similar diets you felt like a walking zombie. You couldn’t even think of going to the gym, because your brain just didn’t work with no fuel.

The societal pressure onto that only added to the chaos, and you couldn’t imagine how lonely it felt to be told by employers that you need to cut down, as well as go to the hectic schedules that Bin had to, and worry about making content, and trying to keep at least some of your life private. You couldn’t see him go through that alone.

That was when you had the picnic. He had no idea that you knew about that meeting, but it was actually Felix that tipped you off to it. If there’s anyone in the world who would get what Bin was going through it was you. As always, you knew how to make Bin smile. You set up at his favorite spot, making healthy foods and also packing some of his favorite shakes. When he walked up to it, his face lit up, and so did yours. He ended up playing hooky that day, and spent the whole day with you. It’s one of his favorite memories. Now it's bittersweet.

He was mad at himself at those thoughts, Chris was so clearly into you so he used Bin’s insecurities against him… and it had worked. He thought about how all of this wouldn’t have happened and you and him would be happy together. That’s all he ever wanted for you. That was why he let you go in the first place. He wanted you to be happy.

After about a half an hour of hushed talking while Bin kept you relaxed, a set of footsteps walked down the hall. Just hearing them, Bin’s ears perked up. They had an authority to them, almost pompous in nature. Commanding… he knows those steps.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

WANT MORE?! TELL ME SO! Want in on the tags? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!!

STRAY KIDS TAGS!:

@Fuckthinking, @feybin, @1-800-shedevil, @channiesbakery, @channieswhore, @hwangswhore, @seungminhour, @skzms, @angstraykids, @roseykat, @seventeenytiny, @dreaming-medium, @thunderous-wolf, @hanjsquokka, @moonjxsung, @diddybok, @fics-lovebot, @seungminssangel, @straykeedz-recs, @straykeedz , @straykeedz, @tasteracha, @ven-fic-recs, @euphoric-univers, @camilagonzalex, @juskz, @antoniorhinothethird, @mariteez, @armystay89, @i-like-nougat, @yeonjunsfox,

@laylasbunbunny,@uwuitsjungwoo, @3racha-soup, @bandolls , @bomi-ja , @skzfairyyyf8te

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids angst #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan x reader #changbin #han jisung #Aftermath of a miscarriage #some fluff #descriptions of grief due to losing a baby #Crying Leeknow #There are flashes of death #Grief #anger #shock

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ghouljams · 6 months

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Please more knight ghost it’s unhealthy at how attached I am to your writing at this point like omg the way you write is perfect . Also your characterization is amazing.

I would do anything for you, thank you. Knight!Ghost always has me the most worried about characterization but also feels the closest to Canon ghost in my mind. I could probably expand on that but I'm not gonna do it here.

"I'm going to teach you how to hold a knife," Ghost tells you on your third night in the woods. He'd been quiet all day, you wonder if this is what he'd been thinking about. You try to contain your excitement. "Don't look so giddy."

"I'm not," you school your features.

"You are, I can feel it," he grumbles, tugging his knife free from the sheath on his belt.

"Bull-" you cut yourself off when he glares at you, twisting your fingers against your mouth like you could hide the intent from him. Princesses don't swear, and he's chastised you enough about stealing words from the knights that you don't need another lesson. "I'm sorry," you mumble.

"Don't apologize to me," he tells you, the only thing you think he hates more than your swearing, "princesses don't apologize-"

"-they receive apologies," you finish for him. Except it isn't just anyone you're alopogizing to, it's Ghost. The only man worthy of an apology, the only person you care about staying in the good graces of. Besides, you're only a princess. Even when you're queen there will always be someone above you, a king you'll have to get used to apologizing to.

Ghost knocks his knuckles against your head, exceedingly gentle despite the casual airs he puts on. You frown and swat at his hand. You can see his eyes squint, smiling behind his mask.

"Chin up princess," he shoves the hilt of his knife into your hands, "give us a slash, eh?"

You stare at him, swallow, and grip his knife tight. He lifts his tunic and pats his stomach, the mail and padding makes this feel much less intimidating. Not enough that you don't hesitate slashing at him. You can feel Ghost's impatience radiating off of him.

He grabs your hands and adjusts your hold, batting one of your hands away from the hilt and holding it at the wrist. "Keep this one out in case you need to grab your opponent." He instructs, you nod still trying to gain the courage to slice your closest companion. You wind your arm back and- "Eyes open."

You huff and pout at him. He raises a brow. "You wanted to learn to fight." He sounds like he's trying not to laugh. You don't appreciate it. This is harder than you thought it would be, you didn't think you'd be practicing on Ghost.

"I don't want to fight you," you tell him.

"I'm flattered," he deadpans.

"What if I hurt you?" You wince. You've already stitched him up once, you don't want to do it again.

"It would be an honor."

Your breath catches. He says it so sincerely. You know that line, it's an honor to die for the monarchy, to be injured protecting them -you- but this. You don't know what this is. You don't know or understand the look in Ghost’s eyes. Or maybe you do, maybe the ache in your chest that it conjures is responding in kind to a similar one in his. Maybe it isn't the monarchy that brings him honor, maybe it's just you.

"I don't want to learn anymore," you whisper, you can't raise your voice past that, too consumed by what it would mean to cut Ghost. It would mean he's a man, something flesh and blood that you can hurt. Not the larger than life figure he presents, not the thing only monster can touch. It would mean you could hurt him the same way anything else could.

Except he'd let you. He'd bare his flesh for you, show his stomach, strip himself of all safeguards, all teeth and claws. You could cut him and it would be an honor.

"Ok," he says, his hand wrapping around yours, his voice low and gentling, "let's stop." You nod, taking your hand from the knife quickly. He drops to one knee in front of you, tips your head with two gloved fingers under you chin, drawing your gaze to meet his. "I'm at your command, my lady." He reaffirms, reassures.

He'll never force you, never disobey your "no", always on a short leash your dog. How could you ever hurt him? How could he ever ask you to?

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon riley cod #knight!ghost #medieval au #f!reader #princess!reader #🤫 thats a surprise tool that'll help us later #i always miss writing for these two

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tteokdoroki · 11 months

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aali………please please tell us exactly what Rin said about Isagi not being able to fuck that had Egoist Yoichi baby boy fuck reader right in front of Rin 😭 i KNEED to know I must know babes or I’ll go insane

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— lost in the lights, out of my mind + yoichi isagi, rin itoshi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — rin itoshi has a bad habit of dishing out what he can't take and a locker room fight with his rival, yoichi isagi, leaves him in the most vulnerable place he'll ever be in. all because of his little unrequited crush on you.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! heavy!smut, porn with some kind of plot, characters aged up to 20s, established relationships (with isagi), unrequited love (rin lmao), some crushing, manipulaton, reverse cuckholding (?), voyuerism, unprotected s!ex, clothed s!ex, fingering (f!receiving), finger sucking, nipple play, body worship, dry humping, multiple orgasms, male masturbation, overstimulation, edging, orgasm control, aftercare, light!degradation, light!dacryphilia, light!sub/dom dynamics, sort of a threesome, creampies, psychologically tormenting rin lmao!!! pro player!yoichi isagi, pro player!rin itoshi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 8.5K.

⭑ notes — happy birthday tew me!! this is my gift to you all, i feel like its such a tradition for me to post something on my bday like i have for the last three years so here you are!! anon, i am so sorry this took so long, i hope you like this... i lost my mind writing it but it was sososo much fun!! enjoy my loves <3 m.list / fic that this refers to (you dont need to read it to understand!) ✩

if there’s one thing rin hates more than anything, it’s losing. after a sour defeat, three goals to a frustrating two, emotions are running high and the locker room fills with an atmosphere so tense even a butcher's knife couldn’t cut through it. it suffocates the boys as they flood into the room, defeatedtly shoving their cleats and water bottles into their cubbyholes — their breathing ragged and muscles aching.

the silence is shattered by a vicious snarl from blue lock’s main star, yoichi isagi, as he walks in last and heads straight for his rival. “way to fucking go, rin! your stupid little act just cost us the entire game.” the striker bares his fangs, frothing like a rabid dog. “you happy now?”

“oh fuck you, isagi. were all your shots supposed to be that half-assed? or was that just a weak attempt to impress your little girlfriend up in the stands.” rin fires back, equally as riled up, throwing his sweat soaked shirt into his designated cubby for this game.

the rest of the team knows not to intervene when two of their best players go head to head, slowly retreating to the showers and changing out of their kit. rin is too highly strung, everything is his way or the highway and everyone is beneath him. isagi is hot headed, switches up on you faster than you can say your own name — and only gets worse if you mention his girlfriend during a fight.

for a moment, the dark haired striker’s face falls and his deep blue eyes cloud with something rin itoshi only ever sees on the pitch. but isagi quickly recovers, offering the other player a tight lipped smile.

“let’s keep her out of this, yeah?”

that only makes rin want to double down.

his relationship with isagi is complex — he’s better than the guy in every way he knows is possible, and yet he envies him. no matter what rin does, his fellow player will always have some kind of leverage over him. whether it be sae’s approval, ego’s favouritism, you. the history between the three of you is even more confusing and flustering, and to this day, rin still doesn’t know who he wants or hates more. jealousy reaches its boiling point at the forefront of his mind, it’s perplexing and he hates the way it makes him feel — like he’s out of the loop, out of control and it only makes rin want to lash out at isagi more.

so he does.

he pokes and prods at isagi, twists at the parts of him that really set him off because he has no other way to cope and no other outlet for his build up of emotions.

“she must be embarrassed,” rin drawls as if he’s enjoying taunting his teammate, though his face shows no signs of it. “to have a boyfriend who can’t even play soccer without looking luke-warm or mediocre. this is your job. your life. and yet, you’re still not getting it. you’re nowhere near being on the same level as me.”

isagi grits his teeth. “i’m warning you, rin. quit while you’re ahead.”

but he can’t, he won’t. not until he makes isagi hurt the same way he does. for losing this match, for losing control.

“if soccer is your life and you’re this bad at it, then i wonder what else you suck at,” the younger itoshi brother adds coldly with the petulance of a child still learning how to navigate how he feels. standing up to his full height, rin smirks as if he’s finally put his enemy into place. he lets his emotions spill into every word he says until they weigh down his tongue and all he can spit out are phrases of malice. “being a good boyfriend? fucking her right?”

satisfaction curls around rin’s beating heart as isagi looks to him; wide eyed and bewildered. there’s nothing like reminding someone where they belong in the food chain. beneath rin itoshi and never above. isagi flounders like a fish before him, searching for words of defence that never come and when rin thinks that the shorter of the two might finally say something — the door to the locker room creaks open and in comes…

you.

if there’s another thing that rin hates, it’s how weak you make him feel — especially when he knows that you’re out of reach. not his to touch. to hold. to keep. you can’t be the reason he feels so open an exposed, like a patient on an examiners table, because he can’t have feelings for you anymore, because you belong to isagi. your heart beats for him and that makes rin sick.

he wants to hate you, even though you’re sweet and kind and understanding. even though you step into the room wearing isagi’s number with doe eyes that glisten underneath the white artificial light. even though your voice fills him with warmth when you call out for your boyfriend (not him) and say. “yoichi, is everything okay?” in that mawkish tone that sends shivers down the length of rin’s spine.

and like he’s been snapped out of a trance, isagi looks away from rin’s face and searches for comfort in your own — his body instinctively gravitating towards you for affection. “yeah precious, what are you doing here?” he grins at you like he wasn’t just about to rip rin’s throat out with his teeth. “thought i was meeting you outside.”

“yeah but…some of the other boys and your manager got worried that something was happening between you and rin, so i came to check on you…i hope that’s okay?” you’re so good, well behaved and it’s all for isagi. it makes rin want to scream, rip his hair out, hurt something but he can’t. he won’t because he’s never been good at feelings. he has his older brother to thank for that.

rin watches the interaction between you both like he’s on the outside looking in. isagi treats you like you’re the world encompassed into one being. yet, there’s a glint swirling in those ocean eyes rin despises so much. “more than okay, baby…actually, i think you might be able to help us make up.” isagi hums, twirling you in his arms until your back is to his chest and you’re facing rin now too.

“…i can?” regrettably, your interest is piqued. isagi has that look in his eye, the one that he gets when he’s scheming and he has all the cards in his hands. except this time, he’s not looking at you.

rin itoshi seems to be the target of your boyfriend’s games tonight — and you, a mere chess piece on the board.

“mhm…” yoichi’s voice drops, brushing over the patch in your brain that controls your pleasure. you know that voice, you’ve heard it a million times before…during showers, early in the morning, right after games. the way he speaks switches up whenever isagi wants you. “you see, pretty girl, rinnie over here—“ the striker juts his chin out in the direction of his rival, using the sweet little nickname he knows you have for him. “doesn’t think i can be a good boyfriend, thinks i’m embarrassing, thinks i can’t fuck. would you say any of those statements are true?”

you frown, lips drawn into pout and brows creased where they meet in the centre. “n-no! of course not.”

and rin thinks he might die there and then, with you looking at him like you’re disappointed in his opinion.

for as long as he’s known you, you’ve never cared about the feud between himself and your partner but this particular comment seems to bother you. upset you. and as much as he pretends to be indifferent towards you, the last thing rin itoshi wants to do is hurt your feelings. he’s never quite known what it’s like to care for someone — aside from sae, pre-spain. so for him to consider your feelings with every interaction you have is weird, at least for him. you’re a baffling enigma to rin, he finds himself drawn to you like a moth to a candle flame and finds comfort in your sugary conversation and polite laughter.

you seemed to like rin, for all his awkwardness and lack of charm. you had once called him cute despite his rough exterior and cold nature — leading him to believe that he could maybe try a little harder for you, be with you. that was, at least, until isagi came along and swept you off your feet with boyish smiles and rose tinted cheeks.

isagi could do with you what rin couldn’t do for himself.

be open with his admiration for you.

for a second, you cut the connection between rin’s aquamarine eyes and your own to glance back up at your boyfriend.

“we should prove him wrong, then.”

“but rinnie— i mean, rin,” you correct yourself when isagi tightens his grip on you as you try to diffuse the situation as best you can. “he wouldn’t… he doesn’t care about stuff like that. i know you’re a good boyfriend. isn’t that all that matters?” but in a twisted sort of way, you like that he’s a little pissed off, that rin is there watching you all loved up on each other too.

you feel his excitement press into your behind, arm wrapping around your tummy this time. “you’re all that matters to me,” isagi affirms because it’s true. he shouldn’t really care what rin thinks, but he left his rationality on the pitch. he’s pissed off and he lost and all he can think about is fucking you up and proving his point. soothing his ego. his flirtatious voice tickles the shell of your ear and sends a strong current of electricity straight down to your centre. “but baby, i wanna fuck you. don’t you want him to watch? help me prove that i’m so fucking good to you?”

he just can’t let it go, not this time.

is it because he thinks rin’s words are true? that he’s not good enough for you? that you might even deserve better than a man that puts his heart and trust into soccer?

yoichi loves you so much he think he might rip stars from the sky, and maybe the the sun if you’d asked him to. he’s so good to you, he knows that. you know it too, but he wants to prove it.

have the one up on rin just this once.

you give a slight nod of your head because maybe you’re just as much of an egoist as isagi. you don’t want him to doubt himself, he’s the best in japan. in the world. at soccer, at loving you too. he deserves to show off that much. so you agree, hesitantly, “but, yoichi… rin is still…” you say. not that you care, you’ve partially forgotten that itoshi still exists — isagi’s loving touch as he feels you up from over your jersey provides a perfect distraction.

he’s always like this with you, makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the room.

“don’t worry precious. he’ll look but he won’t touch, unless he asks and you say yes. right, rinnie?”

it’s the first time in minutes that either of you finally acknowledge rin. the stretching silence filled with ragged breathing and the rustling of clothing as rin watches you lose yourself to lust. to isagi.

“right.” he scoffs like he doesn’t care, barely able to tear his eyes away from your slither of skin revealed as you pull up your jersey to give isagi better access.

“spread your legs baby, lemme see that pretty pussy. wanna show her off.” isagi hums in satisfaction but he doesn’t push, letting you lead. “you want it any way, precious? tell me what you need, i’ll give it to you.” his hands run down to your soft tummy, resting just above the hem of your boy shorts while he grinds into you from behind. “just wanna make you feel good.”

choices, choices.

the ghost of yoichi’s touch along your skin, a thumb on your faint adam’s apple, then over your nipple — it makes saliva pool heavily on your tongue and your eyelashes flutter. “w-what do you think, rinnie?” you gasp, lifting your head to face him.

the younger itoshi swallows thickly. “fingers.” he says without hesitation. “you gotta prep her first, idiot.”

“still so rude, rin,” your boyfriend tuts mockingly. “c’mere. get ‘em nice and wet for her.” isagi points to his mouth — gesturing for his rival to open up for his fingers.

“fuck off, isagi. i-i’m not— you’re not going anywhere near me.”

“oh come on, you’re the one that wanted to prep her. my girl can take it with or without.” isagi presses, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a cocky smirk. “this was your decision, remember?”

the mere thought of doing anything remotely sexual with yoichi has the fortress of rin itoshi’s mind crumbling, starting with it’s foundation. he’s not disgusted by the idea, no, but he fears letting his mask slip. “if you’re not willing to take care of her properly, then you’re just proving my point. you’re half-hearted. lukewarm. you don’t care to fuck her proper.” rin scoffs, ignoring the shake in his voice.

“please, rinnie,” you hiccup. “he won’t touch me if you don’t…p-play along.”

but when it’s you, rin can’t ever seem to say no to you.

you’re like a siren calling out to him to drown himself in all that he desires — your saccharine and salacious strings of words setting his insides alight with wanton. begrudgingly, rin strides towards you both and grabs your boyfriend’s wrist with flaming cheeks, heart hammering in his chest so hard he’s afraid you might hear it and think him weak.

the gentle part of his lips encircle two of isagi’s fingers and is tongue, once tucked away behind rows of brilliant white teeth, breaks free from its barrier to roll over the slender digits — glazing them in a of spit. rin feels degraded, it pours through him in the same thickness as his blood and replaces all the oxygen in his lungs. but then you look at rin like you want him, dainty gaze honed in on the way his tongue weaves between your boyfriend’s fingers and soaks them in his claim. he can’t help but grow more confident in the action.

but then yoichi reminds you both of his presence, thrusting into rin’s obedient mouth until his gags and his tropical ocean eyes blow wide in shock at the sound. isagi’s own blue pair drown in mirth.

“satisfied?” rin let’s your boyfriend go with a wet smack of his lips, rasping his words out as he regains his breath.

“not really, but she can help with that.” isagi sounds like he adores you, plunging his spit slicked fingers past your swell of your plump lips so you can get them even wetter for him. you seem eager, sucking on them as if you’re chasing the younger itoshi sibling’s flavour and the visuals make his cock twitch behind his elasticated shorts as he pictures you mouthing at the ache between his legs.

once isagi is truly satisfied, he pulls out of your mouth and pats your cheek lovingly. “did such a good job, precious. i’m gonna touch you now, okay?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond since you’re too delirious, giggling on trickles of ecstasy from being pampered in your lover’s hold. his hand slips in between your plush thighs and underneath your clothes easily, yoichi dragging a single digit along the length of your puffy folds to get a feel for just how messy you are. you’re dripping with sweet juices, the scent of you intoxicating and potent to both boys as isagi eases the finger past your clenching hole experimentally.

you hiccup and tremble, your head rolling back against his shoulder the more his thickness presses into you and stretches you out for later. rin can see just how much you make isagi’s skin shine with your wetness, clear strings of it oozing down your thighs and into the seat of his rival’s palm — all this from being barely touched? from watching rin suck on your boyfriend’s fingers so pathetically? you’ve barely been touched as it is.

it only makes the throb at rin’s core that much more painful.

“don’t you even think about touching yourself to this. you’re lucky enough to even be watching her,” blue lock’s shining star grunts out to rin possessively, his voice laden with a lust that scratches at his throat. you whine out for more, hips jutting downwards to chase more of isagi and his attention switches back to you. “sorry for the wait, precious. there we go, is this alright? is this how you want it?” his softness has you melting like butter in a pan, isagi easing a second finger alongside the first before he curls them to bare down harshly on your g-spot.

the moan that escapes you is a far cry from your angelic nature in rin’s eyes, reminding him that isagi’s the one who cast you out of heaven. “m-more yoichi,” you squirm impatiently, back arching away from the striker’s chest as he used his free hand to toy with yours. “faster, c’mon—!”

“alright baby, relax. we’ll do whatever you want.” isagi moans back desperately, as if your pleasure is his pleasure. he changes the angle of his hand so that the back of it is facing rin, creating the visual of him cupping your sweltering, glistening pussy. you drool into the seat of his palm while he works you open, stroking your velvet and sopping insides like the tide lapping at the shoreline to indulge you and build the pressure that bubbles just under your naval. “oh, you like that? want me to rub your clit too? just like that precious,”

the rough pad of his thumb draws signatures of love against your budding clit as your arousal pearls on it it. every push and pull of isagi’s fingers have you a syrupy mess, glinting under the artificial lights and only drawing rin’s eager gaze to the treasure between your thighs. when he looks to your face all he sees is your insatiable appetite and dire need to run after the high your boyfriend plans to give you.

rin’s tongue darts out to wet the crack on his lips and he attempts to swallow the saliva that coats his tongue and floods his mouth — making it difficult for him to breathe. and if he does, manage to breathe in, the scent of you is intoxicating and fills rin with a level of desire his body can’t even handle. shame brews below the surface level of his skin, intertwined with the blood cells that surge through his veins and right to the tip of his shaft.

he flinches as it pulses to life inside his briefs, pathetically wet from how wet you sound.

“listen to that, fuck,” isagi groans, his lashes fluttering against the side of your face the deeper he plunges two fingers into you. “cunt sounds so pretty baby. sucking me in like that, s’like you never wanna let me go.”

the way isagi touches you is intoxicating — casting a dark veil over every thought that dares to cross your mind and clouding your better judgement. with him it’s easy to be this vulnerable and allow yourself to crumble to pieces in front of the hawk-like gaze of someone you know all too well. you find yourself not caring about the way rin watches you, pools of tropical ocean eyes dropping from your eyes to your pulsing sex where your boyfriend pinches and toys with your folds to get you wetter and wetter.

you’re fucking enjoying this. isagi knows it. rin knows it — the three of you trapped under the spell and vulgar scent of sex that mingles with the air you breathe in. you hardly feel bad for teasing the poor itoshi baby like this, finding the shaky mewls and squeals that you usually save for your boyfriend are a little louder than usual — spiking even higher when blue lock’s star egoist pulls back the hood of your clit to maximise your sensitivity and receptiveness to his touch, rubbing your juices into the little nub.

“tell him how good it feels.” yoichi is so loving but oh so condescending, commanding the will of your body as he curls his fingers just right to brush over the spongy spot inside of you to make you see the gates of heaven.

your pretty pussy gushes in response before you can, milky white running down isagi’s forearm as it gathers in the seat of his palm. you’re desperate to speak, but your mouth feels as if it’s been stuffed with cotton and your words are replaced by shaky and choked moans. between being finger fucked to the brink verge of collapse and watching rin try to grind against his boxers for friction — you don’t know how your boyfriend expects you to form a cohesive thought, let alone speak.

still, you manage to stutter out some kind of praise to him. “oh god, f-fuck, yoichi!”

when isagi hits your g-spot, you spasm so hard you think you might die and at the same time, rin’s needy whimper echoes around the locker room as if to taunt him. “she’s close,” rin bleats, the pain in his cock becoming too much to bare as he fumbles over the front of his shorts to reprehensibly relieve himself. “aren’t you gonna make her cum?”

the question is meant with no malice or harm — more innocent than rin allows himself to appear and isagi quickly picks up on it, licking a hot stripe up from the base of your neck to just behind your ear. “you can always tell when my precious girl is close,” he scissors his fingers along your insides, clear strings of your arousal keeping him tied to you. “she clenches so fucking tight around me, like she wants to make me a mess and claim me. keep me all to yourself, right precious?” he coos to you slyly, stroking you into the shape of him and flicking at your clit — arousal gathering copiously between your pussy lips. “you wanna cum so bad, don’t you.”

“y-yes!” you nearly scream, legs buckling beneath isagi’s ministrations, pumping in and out of your velvet walls with newfound motivation.

pleasure grows inside of you bit by bit, as if isagi has laid the foundation for bricks of pleasure to stack up high and the fact that rin itoshi is watching you just cements it all together. “make yourself useful, and hold her up.” he instructs, lazily sucking marks into your skin. “so selfish, rin. just like always. getting yourself off while my precious girl’s a shaky mess. you could have been helping all this time.”

a smile that could rival the devil’s tugs at your boyfriend’s wet lips when rin staggers forward to hold you up in the comfort of his arms. the path to what he wants has always been clear and isagi plays on that like it’s a part of the game you all play — knowing that rin would never give up the chance to hold you this close. you can feel the outline of his bulging cock against your tummy, the thought of it grinding inside you alongside isagi’s fingers doing nothing to sedate the desire coursing through you. your selfish need to cum.

blood rushes through rin’s ears at he way you cling onto him life a lifeline. you might be creaming on yoichi’s thick fingers, letting them stretch you out in preparation for his even thicker dick, but right now — you need rin to ground you and keep you back down on earth.

“can’t,” you whine over the lewd slushy sounds reverberating from between your thighs, and bat your eyelashes up at the younger itoshi — pride internally rumbling in your chest as the black abyss of his pupils swallows his pretty green eyes. “can't hold it, ‘ichi.” there’s nothing greater to you than humbling someone like rin itoshi. he forgets that while you follow whatever pleasure is given to you, you’ll always be loyal to yoichi isagi. hearing you moan his name only shatters rin’s confidence.

“let go for me, baby. cum all over me like the good girl i know you can be,” a deep groan takes hold in isagi’s chest, roots intertwining with his lungs and his very being. much like a sturdy tree. his thumb goes back to signing his name over it, gaze honing in between the sinful movement beneath your clothes. “get on your knees, rin. see how i fuck her nice and good.”

doing as he’s told, rin bites back his humiliation and sinks to his knees before you — keening into your fingers as they move up to grip his broad shoulders and your nails dig into his milky flesh hidden by his kit. from here, gets a front row seat to your gushing sex and how it soils the tiny threads of your boy shorts stuffed between your fattened pussy lips.

sex crazed hormones drift into the air, rattling about and colliding with kinetic energy as isagi picks up the pace — the seat of his palm now grinding against your clit, rubbing you raw and relentlessly. he bites down on your pulse point, and that’s really all it takes to throw you over the ledge. the stacks of ecstasy that had been building within the depths of your soul finally come crumbling down and your release shoots out of you, slapping to the floor in a crude manner.

“o-oh! ‘m c-cumming!” you cry out, feeling evidence of your orgasm blaze a trail down your inner thighs in clear streams as isagi guides you through it. rin doesn’t bother fighting his biological instincts, craning his head up for just a taste, a smell, anything — your sugary and musky scent sending him spiralling while heady precum oozes from his time painfully.

“ah, ah fuck, baby. keep that orgasm goin’ for me, keep cumming. so pretty.” soft praises fall on your ears despite the white noise that overwhelms you, letting yoichi control the way you twitch and react with his large hands still working you through it all — perfectly nestled between your trembling thighs. you came so much, so sweet.”

it’s like yoichi is in awe of you, kissing your cheek as you come down from your high — still clenching and fluttering around his fingers. the pair of you forget about rin sitting on the floor between your legs — bearing witness to the way your orgasm rhythmically drips out of you. it’d be foolish for both boys not to become obsessive over the way you guys. slowly, one of your hands leaves rin’s muscled shoulder to grip your boyfriend’s hair and tug him into giving you a wet and loving kiss.

“you always make me cum so hard, yoichi,” you praise him, your shaky voice sounding angelic to both men. “thank you, baby.”

still licking his way into your mouth, isagi sighs in content, circling his hips into your ass. “all i wanna do is make you feel good,” he breathes his want into you. “are you okay to keep going? we can stop right here. rin doesn’t have to see anymore.”

it’s only then that you remember rin between your legs, discreetly humping the floor for some relief — practically shaking at how bad he wants you.

“you need me,” you say, hunger curling around the tone in your voice. “we can keep going.”

isagi fucking loves you. he’s sure he’s never quite met anyone on the same level of ego and desire as him. maybe you’re both insane, beyond the brink of normalcy with enough danger between you to destroy the whole world — but instead you stick to ruining the man before you both, ripping his ego down until it’s nothing but measly pieces and rin itoshi can no longer look either of you in the eye.

a pair of eager lips land on yours once again — tasting of freshly cut grass and the sweat on your lover’s Cupid’s bow. you suck and bite on one another, leaving your claim visually on each other while your hearts remain tied. isagi grabs at your fleshy ass cheeks, takes your tongue down his throat and lets you own him just as much as he owns you while rin bares witness to your boiling and passionate love.

familiar hands yank down your shorts and underwear in one go — desperately exposing your hot skin to the air conditioned room, causing a wave of goosebumps to erupt over your body in anticipation. excitement. “i wanna fuck you so bad, i can’t ever get enough of you, precious girl.” he whispers menacingly against the shell of your ear, like it’s a threat but instead directed towards the man at your feet. “‘m so lucky,” his hands wander again, cupping your cunt squeezing your waist and pulling the sweetest sounds from between your lips. “being the only one to have you like this.”

once again, you collapse forward and dig your nails into rin’s shoulders — relishing in the way he looks up at you like you’re a forbidden prize to be won. an angel. a diety. you smile at him, innocent and cute, whimpering a breath’s width away from rin’s lips as isagi arches your back for himself — peeling apart your juicy ass cheeks to set his sights on your glistening pussy. your squelching hole pulses around nothing, sending beading droplets of your arousal through your folds.

“hi rinnie,” you simper and struggle to keep your gaze focused on the athlete, feeling isagi rub his seedy hot cockhead against the entire length of his sex. teasing the both of you. “how’s are you doing?”

there’s so much he wants to say to you. to do to you. if rin had a little more confidence and higher self esteem — maybe he could acknowledge his feelings, he could kiss you, make you his, make you forget all about isagi. but rin is a coward paralysed by his own fear of feeling something real. he lets you walk all over him instead. both of you.

“i’m good, how are you feeling?” he mumbles in response, all needy-like. you almost feel bad for him, revelling in the way rin tracks your moans, his mouth dropping open just like yours when yoichi drives his hips forwards and bullies his heavy cock past your fluttering entrance. “f-fuck, you’re so…”

“so what, r-rinnie?”

“so pretty.”

his eyes shine when he speaks, glossy with desire causing pride to curl around your heart and fan the flames of debauchery inside of you. isagi pulls back, his brows creasing in the centre of his sweaty forehead as he adjusts his tender grip on your hips and pulls his cock from the snugness of your drenched heat. he thrusts forward, hitting every pleasure spot he’s ever mapped out along the length of your slippery walls, making you shudder and press your forehead to rin’s for support.

“pretty girl, how are you still so…” isagi grunts, high-pitched and borderline whiny, choking on the spit that pools against the pad of his tongue and slips out of the corner of his mouth. “so fucking tight. god, i needed this. needed you.”

the way in which isagi yearns for you will never fail to make you melt, following your biological instinct which tells you to push your hips back and throw your ass back on him too. “it’s all for you, yoichi,” you drawl, a wet sigh lying on your glossy lips while your boyfriend's milky tips drags along your insides, churning you up just as he kisses your cervix. rin’s face crumples and you feel a little mean for getting lost in his rival right before his very eyes — but the other half of you enjoys the psychological torment you’re putting him through.

you like how at any point he could have gotten up and left yourself and isagi to your fun. but rin stays, because he likes the position of vulnerability you put him in. he trusts you, both you and isagi.

yoichi pacifies himself by latching into your shoulder with pointed teeth, licking over the bite marks as his chest rumbles in content and his hips set a steady stream to fuck you with. his dark hair tickles your skin every time he pumps his cock in and out of you, feeding your body his lust for you and painting you with opaque layers of pre between your thighs. it mixes with your arousal, clear strings slinging against your legs each time isagi’s balls tap at your sensitive clit.

he breathes his ego into you, making your face burn, making you cry out until your throat is raw. isagi has always been able to fill you up so good, his cock is pretty — decorated with spiralling blue and green veins that hit spots you can’t reach with your fingers while is shaft slightly curves, up just enough to never leave your g-spot. even when he’s fucking you from behind.

“oh precious girl, that’s it, throw it back on me,” isagi slurs, hardly able to focus on anything aside from the way you take him in — the lewd pap, pap, pap of your pussy rippling around him. “show me how you want it. how you want me to use this cock for you.”

isagi tells you encouragingly between thready breaths. he’s always been a giver, his pleasure has always been your pleasure and his end goal to make you see stars when you cum. like you, isagi always finds a way to get what he wants. and he wants you to lose your mind to him. in front of rin.

“right there, yoichi — need you right there!” comes your heavenly little whine as you throw your head back onto his shoulder for the nth time that evening. your attention tears away from rin for only a second, giving him the perfect view of your breasts that bounce as yoichi pounds you from behind and the crystallised beads of sweat that run down the collum of your throat. “y’so big, oh my god.”

“you, hah, you hear that rin? she keeps cryin’ my name, praising me like i’m her fucking god.” he somehow manages to snap to his rival.

you have an inkling that yoichi going insane since his voice drips with a huskiness that lowers its octave. he seems to lose his goal, however, succumbing to your selfish cunt that refuses to let him pull out and forces the striker to keep his thrusts deep and targeted inside of your heated core.

bliss is pungent in the air, lays heavy across every inch of your mind and you find yourself succumbing to it — once mover digging your nails into rin’s shoulders until they form pretty crescent moons on the expanse of his milky flesh and you can use him as leverage to fuck yourself back on yoichi’s creamy dick.

everything sounds so fucking nasty, and rin really can’t fucking help it. all of his shamefulness that once painfully panged at each of his nerve endings seems to have fizzled away into shameless. he finds himself no longer caring that his cock is pulsing from watching his friend ( his rival, his enemy, his … crush? whatever …) fuck the girl of his dreams to high heavens and back. with his emerald gaze laser focused on darting between your viscous and drenched cunt sucking yoichi in, and your angelic expression ( creased brows and perfectly pouty lips) — rin let’s his hand slip beneath his shorts to finally relieve himself of the ache.

he hissed at the first contact with his erection, the sound quickly turning to pathetic blubbers that make his ears burn red at their tips — because it feels so good. finally touching himself in sync with isagi’s thrusts, getting himself off to the way he fucks you, loves you. torn between wanting to be either of you. it’s a large thing to admit to himself, sifting through a maze of lust, attraction. rin has been chasing after the want to be loved for so long and somewhere along the way it morphed into wanting to be between you both.

he won’t admit it out loud, however, but he feels lucky enough to watch right now. grateful that he pushed isagi this far.

the sounds of him jerking off his crying cock, rubbing at his slit from time to time, merges perfectly with the sinful symphony of your mewls, your cries and the weightly slap of isagi’s skin against your own. his guttural moans too, and his breeder’s balls smacking down wetly on your equally wet, puffy cunt. you catch on first, teary eyes drifting down to the movement beneath the younger itoshi’s clothes and then back up to his face — which looks lighter, relieved and less tense.

“oh rinnie,” you coo, voice rising an octave — delighted by the sight in front of you and the way in which your boyfriend eagerly chases the hot grip of your abused, leaky hole. “y-you’re so cute… you like watching me get fucked that bad, hm?”

“y-yes, god yes.” he lets out a choked moan in response, his throat dry from holding back and not having spoken in a while.

you grin lazily and lift a hand from rin’s shoulder to cup his cheek, brushing away a stray tear with your thumb. one that he didn’t even know had fallen. “you’ve been such a good boy, watching so well ‘n listening to ‘ichi up until now…” even though your voice wavers, and you’re just as submissive to your boyfriend as rin is to you right now — you somehow manage to reach out to him, lick at the longing parts of his soul that crave affection like this.

“he’s pathetic is what he is,” isagi rears his jealous head while slumping over you — aiming to steal your attention away. he’s rutting into you so fast that you swear you see a blinding white light, gushing down his dick and slicking him all up with your early release. “rubbin’ one off on your stupid cock to my girlfriend even when told not to. seems like you never listen, not on the field. not here. you just live to piss me off, don’t you man.”

it’s humiliating for rin, but he likes it. stuck between your loving praise and isagi’s harsh words. “seeing her cum for me wasn’t enough for me to prove my point to you, but now she’s on my dick and you still won’t admit it.” he barks but doesn’t let up on fucking you senseless.

the hand that squeezes and tugs at rin’s sorely, hard cock only seems to move faster the more mean, embarrassing shit isagi spews at him. tearing the younger player down but making him feel this amazing. he can’t ignore the small spurts of pre cum that his iron hot tip releases just from having the two of you watching him. it’s evident in the dark stain that seeps through the fabric of his soccer shorts.

his cheeks are flushed and his eyelids droopy as he looks up at you, palming himself to your very vision of beauty. the three of you are a mess. you can’t help but sequel like a lamb being dragged to slaughter between rin and isagi — who tears you apart by plunging into you as deep as he can go and pieces you back together with sloppy kisses to your back, tonguing at your neck possessively.

isagi’s veiny hands grab at your ass next to pull you onto his thrusting cock, pushing anything that leaks out of you back into your clenching hole. he peels his sweat soaked chest away from your back and you whimper at the loss of his body heat — only to let out a surprised sob when he spits onto the point at which your bodies join, fucking the froth past your entrance.

everything your boyfriend does to you, has a snowball effect on rin. he no longer holds back, wildly bucking his hips into his hand wishing it were your sluice sex, or your mouth. dying to have his hands all over you the way isagi does. you terrorise his thoughts but your moans and squeaks soothe him — dragging him closer and closer to his high. you’re dangerous, rin concludes, but it only makes him want to see you like this even more.

meanwhile, you’re in no better condition — every time isagi bends you over and ravages you like this, you’re reminded of the many reasons why he is blue lock’s star player. his strong build from playing soccer all around the world pays off in he’s with you, making good use of his new found stamina to wreck your entire being and pound you all the way to hell. though yoichi is shorter and lean where rin is taller and agile, he never fails to make your brain void of any thought and your legs soft thighs with how wet you are. he fucks you like he hates you, like he’s mad at you for your own existence but he speaks to you in ways that emulate love.

“you’re milking me, precious girl,” he mutters as if he’s in awe. “you want my cum that badly? you want me?” yoichi purrs, sending shockwaves through your system and right down to your pelvis — adding to the orgasmic knots that twist there, threatening to unravel at any second. “you’re so pretty, grinding up on me. so dirty, loving how rin watches you. my precious girl.”

“‘m yours, yoichi,” you reaffirm, preening into his touch as it cascades up and down your body like a rushing waterfall. “wanna cum, wanna cum f’you.”

your admission is like a bullet to the chest for rin but he doesn’t want to give this up, revelling how you look down at him, his milky white dick and his blushing face with an expression so sweet his teeth might rot and his ears fill with your honey-like voice — melting his brain. he wants this for as long as you’ll give it to him, for as long as isagi will allow him to witness it.

“i know baby, but you know what i want, feels so much better when you wait for me,” your boyfriend’s thrusts begin to grow sloppy and irregular — indicating the approach of his own high. but isagi knows you and your body better than anyone else, knows how to make you cum so hard that you might black out. you love to be edged, and you love him even more so. you’d do whatever he wanted and then some. and he would do the same for you.

he throbs within your tightness, your pussy papping and pulsating, smeared with isagi’s thick precum that douses your puffy folds in white. the mix froths, creating a foamy ring of white at the thickest point of his length. “p-please, yoichi. i don’t think i can,” you wail in denial like you always do, the sound causing both boys to squeeze the base of their cocks and groan in unison — attempting to stave off their orgasms. “hurts so good.”

rin is reminded of just how good his rival can fuck you. even when you’re desperate to cum (and he’s just as desperate to watch it happen again) — you still have a burning hunger for isagi to control your ecstasy. he wants to give up control like that too. with you, or with his destined enemy. liquid lust rolls down rin’s dick in large waves, his eyes threatening to roll back as he listens to your moans get higher and higher the closer you are. yoichi is in no better condition, growling and chasing after your cunt as your hips attempt to run away from him.

“she wants to fucking cum, you idiot.” rin grunts, finding his voice amidst the sound of crying, moaning and skin on skin. “please, let her cum.”

“why? so you can bust a nut to my fucking girl. jeez, rin. get a fucking grip.”

maybe this is what makes isagi the bad boyfriend rin so desperately wants to make him. putting his pleasure above your own even though rin knows that’s far from the truth — almost relenting while he jerks off to the same pace that isagi fucks you with. but then you call out to him, like a siren from the high seas.

“rinnie, please touch me. h-help me cum.”

his body moves on his own accord after that, the hand that’s not getting himself off to you and his so called friend reaching between shaky legs and salty skin to fumble with your clit awkwardly. rin has never touched a girl a girl before, not even like this. but he tries to recreate it in the way that isagi does, to listen to you moan for him and see you tremble above him.

“h-how’s that?” he breathes, watching in awe as your eyes roll back into your skull.

“more.” you say. barking out the command while your cunt spews a fresh wave of juices onto rin’s hand.

your body seizes up, pleasured from all angles. between yoichi’s cock and rin’s calloused thumb drags random shapes over the pearl between your folds. “motherfucker….” the curse spills from isagi’s lips before he can stop it and admit how fucking amazing it feels to have you tense around him, warm and wet. it’s worse when rin accidentally catches his cock as it slips in and out of you rapidly, churning up your insides. “fucking bastard. at least touch her properly, rub in circles.”

rin does what he’s told, following the simple command and obediently flicking at your clit. it’s totally worth it, surrendering his autonomy to the older player just to have you tug at his hair and squeal his name. you jut your hips back and forth, meeting both boys in their bid to make you see heaven. your limbs threaten to give out on you, you pulse and pleasure tremors through you like an earthquake.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” you chant like it’s a prayer.

the world around you falls away as you’re finally pushed over the edge — a bright white light flooding your vision accompanied by static fizzling in your ears. rin watches you cum a second time as if he’s witnessing the eight wonders of the world, your cunt flooding with isagi’s cum at the same time that you squirt with ease. his load floods your womb, filling you up to the brim and you feel so good you might die. a scream tearing in your throat and the knots in your lower tummy rapidly unravelling. the both of you cumming together, at last.

you can’t help it, surging forward to press your lips against rin’s, kissing him hazily, your tongue prodding through his lips — licking into his mouth. rin creams his pants at the very sensation, damn near sobbing into your open mouth. “f-fucking christ, that’s so hot.” isagi whines, slowly pulling out of you and letting the crude mix of your arousals hit the floor.

it’s only then that rin realises love is not binary. there are no clear paths to achieving the perfect love. there hat tricks or dribble techniques. love is unwinding and binding and there are too many possibilities. and that scares rin, for him to love a girl he can’t have.

your knees buckle under the exhaustion of it all and rin reaches out to catch you before you can pull away and the oxygen from reality floods his brain again. he misses you when isagi reaches you first, coddling you in his arms and kissing all over your face to calm you down and reassure you. loving you in ways rin isn’t sure that he’s capable of.

nosing your cheek, isagi coos out to you — his personality doing a complete 180. “you okay, precious. i wasn’t too hard on you, right?”

you’re so happy to be in his arms, close to dozing off. “‘m okay, yoichi. you were perfect. you always are. i love you.”

“do you need help getting to the showers? i can carry you there.”

eyeing rin on the floor, you look back up to isagi and shake your head adoringly — knowing that they’ll probably need to talk this out without you.

“i’ll be alright, find me when you’re done here. okay?”

the striker lets you back down and accepts a kiss on the cheek from you. you pad away to wash off — leaving him in silence with his younger counterpart. the tension fails to dissipate as they fix themselves, tucking away their dicks and floundering to speak.

rin watches the way isagi longingly looks at the door, wanting to be with you instead of dealing with the consequences of his actions. it dawns on him then, that he literally cannot win against isagi, that perhaps he is better than rin in all ways possible. he’s a loser. he lost to you and to isagi.

“i’m… i’m a good boyfriend. for her, yanno,” isagi says awkwardly after some time, scratching the back of his head shyly. “there isn’t anything i wouldn’t do for her…but how much i love her doesn’t reflect in my plays and she knows that. the way i love her and love soccer are different. i could never blame my mistakes on how much i care for her. it would be on me. like today was on you.”

rin can only blink back in response. “that’s true. i’m—“ he wants to apologise, but something inside him, something that he’d worked so hard to undo this past hour doesn’t let him. he can’t submit, be truthful and vulnerable. not when the setting isn’t as intimate as before.

rin still can’t let go.

something familiar — akin disappointment swirls in the blues and azures of yoichi’s eyes, but he doesn’t comment on rin’s silence.

it reminds rin of his brother, sae.

with nothing left to talk about, isagi nods quietly and shoved his hands in his pockets to head for the showers — no doubt to check up on you, be with you openly and happily, but pauses just shy of the door. he throws his head back to address rin once more.

“oh and by the way,” isagi mumbles, pushing his tongue around inside his mouth and against his cheek. looking for the right words. as if he’s holding back — saying whatever comes next against his will. “she did really like you. so, every day i have to prove to her that i was the right choice, the better one. a good boyfriend. so don’t get it twisted. alright?”

he makes his exit shortly after — leaving the younger player with no time to respond.

and rin can’t tell if those words were supposed to comfort him or not. in fact, all they do is make him feel worse.

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