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angelfic · 8 months

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— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott

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ghostgirl101 · 5 months

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Oliver Quick Being Obsessed With You Would Include...

A/N: Watched this recently and got too many ideas because it's what I do 😀 if you've got any requests for the Saltburn crew then drop them in my inbox and I'll get round to them. Have fun reading- just know that there are obviously spoilers for the Saltburn movie here, so if you haven't watched it, zip to the cinema and come back 😎 or don't.

☓• It's hard to know where to start with Oliver... all I can say is that once you're in his sights, you're never getting out of them. Big never. Even if he has to wait years to get what he wants, he'll wait, and he will get it. And of course, the it we're talking about here is lucky you. So lucky you 🙃

☓• Say goodbye to your close friends and possibly your family if they're taking up too much of your time or happen to see through his harmless, quiet, normal act to something a lot darker and obsessive tainting his pure blue eyes every time they latch onto you. No one's managed to get in his way yet, and it stays that way.

☓• The first unknowing encounter with Oliver must have been somewhere around Oxford Uni, where you all go to and study. Maybe in the library, outside talking to friends - doing practically anything and making it look amazing and beautiful and something to be wanted above anything. He watches you a lot, a lot a lot, before you bump into each other, because the meeting has to be perfectly natural and it's his only chance to start things off on the right foot.

☓• Coincidences happen a lot and no one can be called out on them, because nothing seems to be wrong yet. You'll end up spending the majority of your time with him, maybe even without realising, whilst he finds out ways to know more about you and get closer to you. Oliver's not so good when it comes to talking about himself, telling you with one of his awkward but earnest half-smiles that he's not half as interesting, and so the conversation ends up steering back to you. From family life to friends, growing up, hobbies, favourite colour, tell him anything and everything. Because he won't forget a single thing.

☓• He's easy with where you want to go to hang out too, so long as he's there. You could just be talking with your friends in the nearby pub or at a party where the invite was extended to him as he's with you, or studying together at the library. Ignore the weird looks from Michael.

☓• But what Oliver prefers above all that is just being together and alone, maybe in your dorm room, or just out somewhere at a park or at the bridge, sitting and talking, opening yourself up more and more to him. This boy is an incredible listener. If your voice trails off when you become self-conscious of how much you're rambling, all you'll get in response is Oliver blinking out of his trance and giving you a calm smile and a shrug. "No, it's fine, I don't mind. Carry on."

☓• Number one supporter, naturally. Oliver tries to be the best friend and more, so hard, with you. He'll be anything you want and need him to be without you even having to mention it. Whatever club or team you're on, he'll give you a little wave and small grin from the sidelines... take a few pictures when you're not looking. For safekeeping.

☓• It can get more than a little frustrating for him when you're distracted by your other 'friends' at Oxford, even if it's something as small as looking over essay answers and revision notes with Farleigh. There's always a back-and-forth thing happening between those two, and so when Farleigh starts becoming friendly with you and outrightly mocking with Oliver, to you, all that will happen is Oliver giving him an unblinking, blank look that looks a touch too cold and repressive, before he ignores him. And that's all you'll ever know about it.

☓• If you happen to stick up for Oliver when someone brings up how different and odd he is, a bit awkward to talk to and a cheapskate or whatever, he'll never get over it. You stuck up for him. That just proves that he was right about you, from the second his dark gaze latched onto your unknowing self just a few weeks ago. He was right. You're... perfect.

☓• There's so much good about Oliver, that if you ever hear anything different, it's hard to actually believe it. It's just Farleigh causing trouble, or gossip that has gotten out of hand again, not actual hints of something deeper bubbling beneath the surface. Oliver would never watch you outside your dorm room at night, what are they on about? And when Oliver hears of them too, or gets the worries out of you when he instantly notices that something's up, he'll act as effortlessly, convincingly confused as you are. If there's the slightest bit of proof in the accusation, he'll cover it up with a flawless explanation that swerves away from him and onto someone else within a second, while still seeming without grudges towards anyone. "You shouldn't listen to them, they're just trying to get in your head. Or maybe they want you for themself or something. I mean, I can understand that. Completely."

☓• You will eventually notice just how clingy Oliver can get when he seems to be everywhere around you, and you might be looking for a moment to yourself. If you gently bring it up, he'll reluctantly go on the promise that you'll text him back, which gives him time to change tactics. He will go as far as saying someone in his family died, or as small as admitting that the isolation from everyone who is so different to him in this place makes him feel a bit broken up. Maybe he should leave? And you, being you, encourage him to stay on and hang out with you and your friends, and boom, his back in.

☓• It's so easy for Oliver to subtly manipulate his surroundings and its people. Everyone, except for you. With you, the manipulation comes in seemingly natural events, nothing too forward. Because what he likes the most is you coming to him with whatever, problems, thoughts, feelings. Then he's done his job, and everything else that will build up a beautiful, beautiful relationship, will slip into place for him.

☓• Again, everything has to be perfect, and it will be. Maybe your first kiss with him is on your birthday, or out somewhere nice as a treat with some other rich friends. Or it's just you two having a movie marathon or pulling an all-nighter. Every time, he'll inch closer with little sweet, honest lines spoken in a calm, low tone, his eyes locked with yours and scarcely blinking. "Do you know how loveable you are?" "I think that your smile is something to live for." "I never want to be without you."

☓• Oliver will edge closer and closer, holding hands, brushing your hair back from your face when you're reading with a tender touch, meeting your eye and not letting go until you smile in bashful amusement and look away. He'll meet you outside all your classes and bring you your favourite drinks and study notes that he got from his work, so that you never fail an exam. Oliver's a lifesaver, one of your closest friends, someone who's always there for you to be whatever you need whenever you need. A great comforter, supporter, study buddy, moral support, you name it. He created and adapted himself to be boyfriend material especially for you, and so it happens, and he's won, like he knew he did the second he saw you. Now he can be as clingy and overly affectionate and outwardly obsessive as he wants, all day, all night, tirelessly. And don't think he won't.

☓• Straight-up, he's a starer. And I mean starer when you think you're alone in your room, starer when you were with a fling or someone you might have been interested in before... before Oliver worked his magic behind the scenes. Now it's a lot easier to, when you're in a relationship, because he can pass off his staring as something romantic, which it kind of is, without the dangerous obsessiveness lacing it. You'll look up from your phone or wake up in the night to see Oliver's eyes on you in wonder and something else you can't quite place, before you smile and ask him what it is. It's always the same answer with the same soft, adoring smirk that manages to make your cheeks flush with colour and smile back. It's not 'nothing.' It's always, just, "You."

☓• Once he's got things how he wanted them, if anything tries to ruin it, they will have literal hell to pay. He did not come this far for nothing. It's an agonising process of waiting and being patient so he wouldn't scare you off, getting gradually and naturally closer to this point. So whether it's Farleigh telling his tales or playing off his tricks, or someone else pointing out the unobvious obvious, good luck to them, because one of his special coincidences will fall right onto their heads.

☓• And if, by a twisted turn of events, you walk into one of Oliver's schemes, and see flecks of his true, darker self and violent, delusional side unearthed from his usually calm and easy way, he'll beg you with racking tears and heaving breaths and literal vomit to stay. He'll do anything, just as he has been doing anything, for you. What he's saying and doing is suddenly terrifying, and whether or not you want to accept him as freely is your choice, but if not, Oliver won't go away. He'll wait some more if you manage to escape his grasp this time. See you in a few years as an adult, maybe. When you're vulnerable in different ways and water's gone under the bridge. He'll slip right back into your life like he was always meant to be there, with his earnest, devoting praise and comfort and support, and that's Oliver Quick's life come back together yet again, with you lost at its centre. Trapped.

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 5 months

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Practice On Me — Part Thirteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Backstreet’s back, ALRIGHT! Or rather, the Bat Boys™️ sort their issues out. Tathaln’s ball is officially announced. Azriel gives Kaeda a piece of his mind. Fin has no business being the sexy dad he is. Roza’s worried about reader.

Word count: 6.3k.

Warnings: None for this part.

All is silent, save for the rhythmic tick-tick-ticking of the clock. Cassian has always hated that clock. Finds it fucking annoying.

But it fills the vacant hole that exists in the absence of conversation. That hole is open and gaping between Cassian and Azriel. It’s not a table that sits between them — it’s a dangerous, yawning chasm.

Az stares at Cass, and Cass feels uncomfortable. He’s seen that cold gaze be levelled on people hundreds of times, thousands. To be on the receiving end feels a little like staring death in the face. He actually kind of wishes that Kaeda hadn’t been sent off to the dorms to sleep off her drunken state, because at least then he wouldn’t be the only one here, being subjected to…this.

So, he stands up, so abruptly that his chair almost topples over, and asks, “Want me to make you some tea?” The question feels stupid the second it leaves his lips.

Azriel’s eyes track him, drink in every uneasy shift and twitch. It’s not that Cass is afraid of Az — though anybody with half a brain cell would be — just that he’s not good in these situations. Situations where he has to be serious and…and listen.

“Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s cold voice stops him before he can move. “When, in our years of friendship, have you ever once made me tea?”

Cass peers over a broad shoulder and shrugs half-heartedly. “First time for everything…”

“Sit.”

The word brooks no room for argument. Cassian does, indeed, sit.

It’s then that Azriel heaves a deep sigh, his entire body taut as a bowstring, and says, “I’m sorry.”

Cass blinks. “What?”

“I’m sorry—for what I did in the mead hall. I…had no right.”

“…But Y/N and I…”

“It’s not for me to dictate whether the two of you should or shouldn’t lie together. My…jealousy…is my problem, and mine alone.”

This is hard, Cassian realises — for Az to say this. For him to face it. And Cass can relate to that. Not everyone can be as silver-tongued as Rhysand. The Mother knows, Cass himself isn’t.

But he also isn’t an idiot. Some people may believe him to be, and that’s their mistake, because being proved wrong is usually the last thing they remember before waking up to a healer standing over them. He’s aware enough of his surroundings to know that something was brewing between Azriel and Y/N for years before Cass took her to bed…or kitchen counter, or…whatever.

“I need to be better,” Cassian offers, “at thinking before I act. Thinking about who I might hurt with my decisions. I’m working on it.”

Az studies his friend, and he feels no anger. If anything, it’s guilt that claws at the shadowsinger. He gave poor Cass a pretty good hiding over something that was, essentially, none of his business. And it could have all been different if Az simply wasn’t a coward, afraid of his feelings.

Something he needs to work on.

And perhaps he’s doing that as, rather than burying the topic, he asks, “What…what actually happened? How did you end up sleeping together? I mean…do you have feelings—”

“No.” Cassian cuts him off, blinking. “Gods, no. I love Y/N, you know that. But not romantically. I just…I felt so damn useless that night, Az. If you’d seen the way Y/N was…the self-loathing. I didn’t know how to help.”

Immediately, Azriel’s brow pinches. “Self-loathing?”

“Because of what her father did to her. When we were flying to Fenlaros, and she was the only one being carried in…”

Azriel slumps back in his chair, feeling like a godsdamned idiot.

He blinks forward and wonders what the fuck the point is in being born a shadowsinger when he obviously can’t read situations very well. Within seconds, it’s clicking into place.

“And then you started that fight with that Fenlarion male,” Cass continued. “and Kaeda just declared that it was her you were fighting over…and everyone has a limit, you know? I think that night was just all too much for Y/N. And she was so upset, so downtrodden…talking about how she hated herself. And I’m not good with words like Rhys is, and I’m not as observant as you are, but I am good at physical touch. Physical comfort. And it seemed like the only thing I could offer in that moment to take that bleakness away from her. But I should have thought about how you would feel—”

“I’m glad you were there for her.” Azriel blurts, realising, with every word, how much he means them. “I wasn’t. I failed her that night.”

“I really didn’t know that the two of you had been exploring things. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it. I mean…that fight you started wasn’t over Kaeda at all, was it?”

Az’s eyes shutter. And it goes against every natural instinct of his to strip himself bare and just…be honest. Every steel wall he’s ever built up is screeching in its effort to stand strong and not be caved in. And those walls were necessary in a life of darkness and hate…but that life is long gone.

What good do those walls do him in an environment where he has love, has people who genuinely care for him? As much as he wants to run and hide from his feelings as he always has…he thinks that the key to happiness may be on the other side of those walls. That a new bravery lays in letting some light filter through the cracks and warm a guarded heart.

His voice is quiet, laced with a self-preserving fear, as he admits, “No. It was not.”

Before Cassian can offer an encouraging response, the front door is swinging open, and Rhysand is kicking snow from his boots and trudging in. Azriel tenses like a threatened animal — but there is no threat here. Only safety, only love. He forces his shoulders to relax.

The violet-eyed male takes in the sight before him. Goes still as he looks between his two friends. “Please tell me this is a positive conversation.”

Cassian inclines his head. “Work in progress. Why don’t you make some tea?”

“Fuck you, make your own tea—”

“Make me some tea—”

“Kiss my ass, dickhole—”

“I’m in love with Y/N.” Azriel blurts.

It promptly shuts the other two males up.

They turn away from their bickering to look at the shadowsinger. He looks…shocked, by his own confession.

“I’m in love with her,” he breathes.

Cass and Rhys share a glance, and then Rhys is slowly approaching the table, carefully taking a seat like he doesn’t want to startle Azriel out of the moment.

“We know, Az.” Rhys tells him gently. “I mean…I think we always suspected…”

“I started that fight in Fenlaros because I was jealous of that damn male having his hands all over her. Saying the things he was saying. It was nothing to do with Kaeda.”

“You should really tell her — Y/N, I mean. Tell her how you feel.”

Azriel’s eyes trace a mark in the table as he admits, “Kind of already have. When she came to speak to me earlier today.”

Another glance is shared between Cassian and Rhys. And both are equally surprised — figure they would have heard something about it. Unless…unless it hadn’t gone down well.

And now that Rhys thinks about it, Y/N had been tense whilst he’d flown her back to Velaris. Taut in his arms and barely uttering a few words. Perhaps this was why.

“Did she…not take it well?” Rhys hedges. He wants to be delicate, not go blasting in at full-force. So rarely do they get to see such a vulnerable side to Az.

Azriel shakes his head once. “It’s not that, it’s…” He clears his throat. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How?” Cass pushes, and Rhys shoots him a warning glance.

But Azriel doesn’t balk from it, doesn’t slink back in his seat. Instead, he lifts his head, and he levels his friends with a desperate look.

“There’s more that I haven’t told you.” He says.

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A short while later, Az thinks that maybe talking through his feelings is a good thing. Just saying the words has a little bit of weight easing from his chest, his shoulders.

But Cass and Rhys aren’t saying anything at all. Cass and Rhys are staring at him like he has two damn heads.

And then Cassian sits up, barking, “Tathaln Baralas wants what?”

“Exactly what I told you.” Azriel shakes his head. “He wants me to move to Fenlaros and work alongside him. Has some sort of backing from the High Lord, though I’m not sure how much. In a nutshell, Kaeda’s interest in me has always been driven by her father.”

“I knew that little wasp was up to something. You know she tried to kiss me tonight?”

Az shrugs. Really could not give a fuck. “I figured something had happened from the look on your face.”

“I never liked her. Nor her father—”

“Her father,” Rhys cuts in, “walks a very fine line in presuming to exceed in his role as a Camp Lord. His ego and title are going to his head a little, it would seem, if he believes he has the authority to scheme such ideas.”

“It’s a terrible idea.” Cass says. Neither of the other two noticed him get up, but he’s returning to his seat, speaking around a mouthful of food. “All Illyrians in one big camp? They’ll kill each other.”

Rhys is inclined to agree. But he turns a neutral — maybe gentle — expression on Az and asks him, “Do you want to go to Fenlaros?”

It would kill him if Az said yes. Would kill Cass, too. These recent days of being torn apart by tension has been bad enough. Being in different camps and not seeing each other is an almost unbearable thought.

But they would find a way to live with it, if Az decided he wanted to go. They’d find a way to be okay with it.

Such thick silence fills the room that the thudding of all three of their hearts is audible.

But then Azriel replies quietly, “No.”

Neither Rhys nor Cassian bother to hide their relief.

“I told Kaeda I would think about it.” Azriel goes on. “And I told Y/N that I’d promised Kaeda that. But I don’t think I’ve ever really intended to think about it — or needed to. I think…I think I was just using it to bide my time. To create space for myself and…avoid everything else.”

“By everything else,” Cassian chomps into a loaf of bread, “do you mean facing your feelings for Y/N?”

Azriel can’t deny it. He nods. “It’s not an easy thing to face…to be vulnerable. Hiding behind this Fenlaros situation has just been easier. Cowardly, yes, but…easier.”

“You can’t keep pushing her away, though, Az.” Rhys says. “You can’t let her think that you might be leaving if you have no intention of doing so.”

The shadowsinger’s eyes flutter shut, thick, dark lashes grazing his cheekbones. “Do you think I’ve fucked it beyond repair?”

“No.” Cassian offers. “But you will, if you don’t start handling this the right way. Tell Kaeda and Tathaln to fuck off. Tell Y/N you’re in love with her and want to see her naked—”

“Watch it.” Azriel warns quietly, but Cass continues, unperturbed.

“Just start letting more people in. And I’ll stop letting so many people in, because it gets me into trouble. I think…I think we all need to grow up a little. Do better.”

Rhysand’s brow pinches. “What do you mean, we all do? I’ve done nothing other than put my own pleasure aside to advise you idiots. What could I possibly need to do better?”

Cassian shrugs. “That haircut, for one. It’s annoying.”

“And when was the last time your hair saw a comb, Cassian?”

“When was the last time you were generous and made tea for your good, long-suffering friend?”

“So this is about the tea.”

“Of course it’s about the tea, jackass. Zakai clearly isn’t with you for your observational skills…”

Azriel sits back, allowing their bickering to become background noise. There’s a warmth to the sight, the sound, that makes him realise he never again wants a repeat of this situation — of being apart from his friends for days, tension thick between them.

He loves Rhys and Cassian. Loves them dearly.

Another reason why he could never, ever turn his back on this place.

And he finds himself actually being…grateful…that Cass was there for Y/N that night. That she didn’t have to suffer her self-loathing alone.

There’s still a lot to get through, of course. Daunting emotions and truths to face head-on. But as he watches the two loveable idiots in front of him take verbal swipes at each other, it’s the first time in a while that he wonders if things might actually be okay.

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The news is announced the next day, when Lord Devlon gathers a rather colourful bunch of his soldiers in the mead hall and stands at the front, silencing them all with a single shout. Rhys, Cassian and Azriel stand against the far back wall, their arms folded over their chests.

Gods, they hope it’s not another training exercise. Not so soon. Az has things he wants to resolve before he saunters off and possibly gets himself killed.

But Devlon reads the roll of parchment in his hands, a frown contorting his features. He looks up, his eyes very deliberately finding Rhysand as he announces to the room, “A message from the High Lord.”

And every other gaze is then swivelling to turn on Rhys, too. There’s something accusatory about it, like they’re assuming he’s privy to whatever it is their asses have been dragged out of bed to hear.

He isn’t. He wants to be in bed, too.

“Looks like you pricks better get your dancing shoes ready.” Devlon raises his eyebrows. “The High Lord is calling for a ball. Legions from all camps invited.”

This — this is exciting news for the brutish males who could fill the mead hall with their egos alone. Not because they have a particular affinity for dancing, but because amongst themselves, they’re already murmuring about which particular camps they dislike for some reason or other, and what they plan to do about it. So many bloodthirsty streaks are painted in those males’ eyes, stamping out the tiredness that lay there only moments before.

Nothing pricks an Illyrian male’s ears up quite like the prospect of a fight.

“The legions from each camp have been carefully selected, and you lucky fuckers will be representing Windhaven.” The Camp Lord continues, disdain dripping from his voice. He wants his men out there training in the cold, not prancing around a dance floor. “Plus-ones are allowed, also, so it might be time to splash out on a pretty gown for whoever is warming your bed these days. The ball is to be held on Starfall, at a neutral venue of the High Lord’s choosing, and I expect you all to make Windhaven — and me — look good. Any questions?”

“Do we actually have to dance?” One male asks, while another one pipes up with, “Will those pricks from Camp Steelshore be there?”

Rhys shuts out the litany of battling voices as he turns a concerned look on Az and Cass. Their expressions mirror his own. Something about this feels…off.

So while he looks like he’s merely lounging against the wall, hands in his pockets, he sends his inner claws spearing straight for Devlon’s mind. He doesn’t give away what he’s doing, not even slightly, as he roots around in the Camp Lord’s thoughts and grabs for his glimpse of the letter. Rhys scans it, drops the thought, and he’s out of Devlon’s mind and straightening himself up before the male can so much as flinch.

“Let’s go.” He tells his friends, and not Devlon nor the males around them seem to care as Azriel and Cassian follow him, the formidable trio traipsing out into the thawing snow, regardless of whether the meeting is over or not.

They’re halfway back to the house, safely out of earshot, when Cassian finally barks, “A ball? What the fuck?”

“At the request of Tathaln Baralas.” Rhys reveals. “That’s what the letter said. He took the idea to my father, and the asshole is humouring him. This has all got to be part of Tathaln’s plan.”

Cassian scowls and spits his disdain at the ground. “Someone needs to drive a poison arrow through that prick’s heart already. I don’t like this one bit.”

“It’s my father’s intentions I’m worried about.” Rhys shakes his head. “Tathaln only has the power that my father gives him. One word from him and this idea could be snuffed out and never mentioned again. And I expected that to be the case. Arrogant as fuck he may be, but my father isn’t stupid. He’ll know what a terrible idea this is, and I would have predicted that he’d laugh in Tathaln’s face for mentioning it. I didn’t think he’d actually entertain it…which means—”

“There’s something in it for him.” Azriel finishes.

Rhysand nods. “Every single move and choice my father makes is, ultimately, for his own gain. He would never agree to anything if he weren’t getting something out of it himself. Whatever Tathaln has proposed to him…my father will be using it for his own gain.”

Cassian opens the door to the cottage and strides in, forgetting — as always — to kick the snow from his boots. “What, though?” He asks. “What could Tathaln have that your father could want?”

Rhys shrugs and waves a hand, magic promptly mopping up the wet, melting trail left in Cassian’s wake. “That, I don’t know.”

“So what do we do?” Az watches him closely, trying to read the thoughts on the male’s face. His shadows reach out to him, too. “Are you going to talk to your father? Make him see how ridiculous this idea is?”

“No,” Rhys shakes his head. “There would be no point. I could lay a whole host of truths out to my father, and he’d go against them on ego alone. He must want something badly enough for him to be throwing money into it. This ball won’t be cheap.”

“And it won’t be a ball, either.” Cassian cocks an eyebrow. Roots through the kitchen cupboards for food. “Blood will be spilled. And you can’t dance on blood. I’ve tried. Too slippy.”

Rhys chooses to ignore that little scrap of information. Mostly because he doesn’t doubt it for a second. “I don’t want us to pre-empt anything.” He says. “If I go straight to my father with concerns about any of this, it could blow up in our faces, instead. For the time being, I think we should just…go along with it. Watch it play out, and see what happens. My father is unpredictable. Even I can’t tell you what goes on in his head.”

“I can speak with Kaeda.” Az clears his throat. “See if she’ll tell me anything.”

“You have fun with that.” Cassian mumbles, biting into something. “I’d sooner chop my balls off and nail them to the front door.”

“Such a way with words. It’s no wonder, really, that females fall at your feet.”

Cass shoots him a wicked grin. And this…this is nice. What they’ve both missed. This is normal.

“I’ll keep an eye and ear out for anything.” Rhys drags them back to the subject at hand. “But my father’s good at not letting anyone know things until he wants them to know them. And he’s clearly serious about this.”

Cassian swallows. Takes another bite. “And until then? Until we know what he’s even serious about?”

Violet eyes sparkle with mischief, and one side of Rhysand’s lips tips up. “Until then, boys,” he says, “you’d better practice your dancing.”

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Azriel really hopes she’s not there, but sure enough, when he enters his room at the dorms, Kaeda is sitting up in his bed.

It gives him a little bit of satisfaction to see her look…less than perfect, for once. Her hair is knotted, and even the vibrancy of the red shade seems a little dulled. Her skin is sallow, her eyes bleary. He wonders if she’s as miserable as she currently looks.

She beholds him with a strangely coy look, like she’s waiting for him to rip into her. But if she really knew the shadowsinger, she’d know that that is not his style. He does not shout. He rarely fights physically. His danger lies in his quiet voice and icy stare.

Kaeda’s tired eyes fall to the blanket pooled around her waist, and she murmurs, “You’re angry with me.” Her throat bobs with a swallow. “I understand. But I appreciate you putting me to sleep in here when I was in a vulnerable state.”

“I would have done it for anyone.” Az presses his back against the wall, folding his arms. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

The female merely bows her head. Doesn’t bother to argue.

“I have a question.” Azriel then says. “I’d like an answer.”

“I know that Cassian has probably told you about last night, and all I can say is I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I was drunk and upset and I—”

“I don’t care about that.” He really doesn’t, and it shows on his face. “I want to know what your father is playing at by organising an Illyrian ball. I don’t believe for a second that the gesture is an innocent one.”

She glances down again, but Azriel doesn’t buy the coy act for one moment.

“Kaeda.” His voice is laced with warning. “Tell me.”

“It’s just…a ball. A ball to have all camps in one place, so he can get a good look at what each one has to offer. It’s nothing sinister.”

“So, a chance for him to scout more supporters for his cause.”

“He’s trying to make a change, Azriel. A good one—”

“He’s interfering with lives. Tearing families apart.”

“Good results require difficult choices.” Her voice hardens.

The shadowsinger bites out a cold, brusque laugh, turning away from her. “Mother above, he has you trained well.”

There’s movement behind him. Kaeda is kicking the sheets away and pushing to her feet. And she’s…seething.

“You would laugh in the face of somebody trying to make a positive change?” She snaps. “What reason have you to be so arrogant? At least my father is trying to make a difference. All you’re doing is clinging to a miserable life in a miserable place where you don’t even have a family or home of your own—”

“Except that I do.” Azriel rounds on her so quickly that his wing knocks a fragrance bottle off a shelf. “I may not have your riches, and that’s fine, because I have a group of people — a family I made — who love me enough to care whether or not I come home at night. Who want nothing less for me than happiness and contentedness, and not just to use me as a pawn in some convoluted plan that will do more harm than good. I have reason to be in Windhaven, whether it’s miserable or not. I have love here. So much of it. And there’s nothing — not a damn thing — that would make me turn my back on it.”

Something in his impassioned speech clearly hits a nerve with Kaeda. She goes still.

And she looks…small, despite being fairly tall. She looks…insignificant.

Her eyes fill with tears. One spills over and rolls down her cheek as she whispers, “Please, Azriel.”

Azriel says nothing. Stares at her.

“Please.” She takes a step closer. “I’m not above begging. I…” Her voice cracks. “I need this. I need you to say yes—”

“Your father,” he interrupts quietly, “is playing a very dangerous game. And he’s using you to do it.”

“You don’t understand. I…if I can’t give him what he wants, I’m finished. I’ll have no home to go to, nobody on my side.”

“You already have nobody on your side. You’re his daughter and he’s dangling your livelihood over your head and ready to snatch it away if he doesn’t get what he wants. You’re already finished.”

“Please.” She says again. Tears are streaming, now, and she tries fruitlessly to wipe them away. “Please, just…if this is about Y/N—”

“Do not,” he grits out, “bring her into this.”

“She’s already in this. I know that you want her and not me…that you always have…and that’s fine. Bring her to Fenlaros with you, if you must. I’m sure my father could be persuaded on that. But just…please—”

“You’re not listening, Kaeda. This isn’t just about my family. It’s about all the other families that would be separated, ripped apart by your father’s scheming. He’s power hungry. This is just the beginning of a whole host of self-serving plans that will bring him glory — do not doubt that for a second. People like him are never satisfied, and he needs to be stopped. Not encouraged.”

“You’re wrong.” Her voice is so weak, Az isn’t convinced she believes her own words. “He just wants a better future for Illyria—”

“No.” Az levels her with a pointed look. “He wants a better future for himself. I will not play a part in that, and neither will my loved ones.”

“Azriel, please—”

“I will attend your father’s ball, just as Lord Devlon has ordered me to do.” He breezes to the door, not caring that this is his room he’s leaving her behind in. He stops, palm poised on the handle. “But as for delivering a male straight into your father’s den? You better start trying that seduction on somebody else. Because there is nothing that would make me follow you into that camp.”

He leaves without a glance back. And while it sits uncomfortably inside him that he made a female cry…he can’t help feeling like he’s finally doing the right thing.

About time, too.

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This — this is the last thing you ever would have expected of coming to Velaris.

The tonic you’d needed was an extended amount of girl time with Roza. And yet here you are…in the High Lord’s arms.

“This is useless.” You murmur, aware of every single place your body brushes against his. One of his hands is a firm weight on the small of your back, the other clasping yours. “I’m not a natural dancer. Fuck, I’ve never even been to a dance.”

Fin’s mouth tips up at the corners. “There’s that filthy mouth.” His hand lets go of yours, opting to move up to the cut of your jaw, where he allows his thumb to rest on your lower lip. “You,” the pad of it swipes slowly over your mouth, “are going to be exquisite.”

You square your shoulders. Cock a challenging eyebrow. “Is that genuine encouragement, High Lord? Or an order?”

A deep chuckle. Slowly — reluctantly —he lets his hand drop. “Both.”

Flirting with him like this, playing the part of the High Lord’s pet, is a necessary evil. You’re just so surprisingly good at it that you can’t discern whether it’s an affront to him, or to Roza. Or both.

But you can’t deny that you’ve been flattered by his undivided attention this past week. And perhaps he’s been flattered by yours, too.

Mother bless Roza for her undying support. The best you can do for her, right now, is to keep her in the loop. She merely tells you to be careful.

But a week — a week of cosying up to Fin, of breaking through his exterior and appealing yourself to him. You humour him with these dance lessons, with the preposterously expensive shopping trips and dinners, the late night fireside conversations. Anything, everything, to get him to tell you what truth lies behind the excited glint in his eyes whenever he speaks of the ball. To tell you what it is he’s planning.

Perhaps you’re not appealing enough. You are no more aware than anyone else. And that’s really fucking frustrating.

At least your hard work has kept you from thinking about Azriel every five minutes.

Your breath still heaving from your dance efforts, you make your way over to the table of refreshments by the huge, arcing windows that overlook the city. The High Lord’s palace, you have to admit, is a place you might miss once you’re back in Windhaven. You’ve never been one for luxury, never had more than a few things to your name — but the views are what makes you feel like the richest person in all of Prythian. These are not the cold, barren views of your camp, but a place of such vibrancy, it sometimes makes you want to cry. It’s like the setting of a storybook, laid out right before you.

From behind, slow, graceful footsteps sweep across the wooden floor. Fin comes to a stop so closely behind you that his body heat encases you.

Fingertips make contact with your skin, the back of your neck. The sleeveless tunic you wore for your practice now feels like nothing more than a paper towel.

“You have such beautiful skin.” Fin says roughly, and you tense. So far, this week, he’s kept a respectful distance away. Hasn’t put you in any awkward positions.

You pivot under his touch, pressing your back up against the table enough that his hand drops. It’s not entirely for show as you smile apologetically and tell him, “Sorry — scars.”

Such genuine, slicing rage fills his face. The intensity of it almost knocks you breathless.

“I will kill him.” He says the words like a lover’s promise. “With my bare hands, I will kill him for taking your wings.”

He had the power to stop the practice before you were even born. He is very old — over nine-hundred-years — and very powerful. What he says, goes.

And yet…he means it. You can see it. And perhaps you have seen so much unkindness, such brutality, that little scraps of ferocity, of passion, in your defence, make you a blinded fool.

But a part of him — however small — actually cares about you. Enough to mark your abuser for death.

But your father’s blood will soak your hands, and yours only.

You smile up at him, wickedly, cunningly, prettily. “No, you won’t.” You reply. “Because I will do it first.”

And the fury in his stare simmers immediately to a different sort of heat. Your words are a flirtation to him — a cut of raw meat dangled above a hungry, waiting animal. They make him feel something.

“Such a murderous little thing.” His soft laugh caresses your skin. He sounds pleased — impressed. “I like that. I like it a lot.”

“I would hope so. I am to be your special guest at the ball, after all.” A small voice in your head wants to coax him; tell me what you’re planning, tell me what to expect.

But, as always, he steers the conversation away, a vague, mysterious smile on his face. “Do you like it here in Velaris, my murderess?”

“I do, very much so.”

“I can’t help pondering how much you would thrive here. You were made for so much more than Windhaven. Illyria, even.”

A soft, coy smile — one that comes from deep within that part of you that wants the praise, the compliments — that needs them. “Many would disagree with you.”

“Show them to me, and I will twist their minds until they see in you what I do.”

“And what is it you see in me?” A disingenuous little liar. A good actress. A traitor.

Fin leans down, and for one startling, heart-stopping, stomach-lurching moment, you think his mouth might meet yours.

But his lips brush over your cheek in a tender, barely-there caress. He presses a kiss to the skin before retracting. Straightening himself out. The way he slides his hands into his pockets with casual arrogance reminds you so much of Rhys that you miss your friend instantaneously.

“I see beauty that is unappreciated, and intelligence that is underestimated.” Fin says. “And I see a female that I wouldn’t mind having at my side.” His eyes trace you from head to toe. “I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

No response sits on your tongue. You think you might be too surprised by the genuine praise. The fact that the High Lord actually feels some level of affection towards you.

Maybe you’re not so bad at these games.

He turns without waiting for your response, and only when he’s at the door does he make eye contact with you over his shoulder.

“Keep practicing the dancing, my murderess.” He says. “We’ll make a fine pair at that ball.”

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If Roza weren’t so worried, she might laugh at the three expressions of outrage that meet her when she strolls into the cottage.

Rhysand jumps up immediately and demands, “Did you fly here? You’re supposed to be resting.”

Roza merely rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her. “Don’t get your undergarments in a bunch, Rhysand. I’m pregnant — not on my death bed. The babe is fine.”

Her son does not look convinced. Neither do Azriel or Cassian. As if they’re, like, experts on pregnancy, or something.

“What are you doing here, mother?” Rhys stalks straight to the fire and stokes it. Then straight over to the kitchen to make a hot drink. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Mostly.” Roza pauses. “I hope.”

Azriel sits up at that. “Is Y/N alright?”

“She’s fine.” If playing games with the High Lord of the Night Court can be considered fine. Roza eases herself into a seat, and Cassian is promptly propping cushions behind her back. “I want to talk to you about the ball.”

Cass’s lips turn up into a half-smile. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, Roz. Promise.”

“You’d better be. Because I want all three of you looking out for Y/N at that ball, do you hear me?”

The command is a firm one, and yet the three males don’t straighten up at her matriarchal tone like they usually do. Instead, they share a puzzled glance, frowns pinching their features.

“It’s a ball for Illyrian soldiers and their guests of choice.” Rhys explains, carrying a steaming mug over to her. “None of us are bringing her along. Not to that.”

“You may not be.” Roza slides a protective hand over her bump. “But your father is.”

All three males go so preternaturally still, it’s almost frightening.

Rhys bites out, quietly, “What?”

“Your father is taking Y/N to the ball as his special guest. He’s bought her a gown, taught her to dance — he’s serious about this.”

“He can’t.” The shadowsinger’s face is like rolling thunder. “He cannot take her there. All those males—”

“That’s precisely why I’m not attending. He needs someone in my place, and he’s taking Y/N.”

“He can choose someone else.” Azriel’s clipped tone, his panic, is not at all personal to Roza. Usually, he would never speak to her in such a way, but—

But this is Y/N they’re talking about. Y/N in the High Lord’s hands, at a ball with so many Illyrian males, too many Illyrian males.

“Watch your tone, Azriel.” Rhys warns, but Roza is holding up a hand. Because she gets it — the panic.

“I’ve tried telling him to take somebody, anybody, else.” She says. “He’s insistent — absolutely adamant that he wants Y/N.”

“But why?” Cassian frowns.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if his kindness to her is genuine or not.” She shakes her head, absentmindedly stroking her bump. “All I know is that he’s taking Y/N to that ball, and I’m not going to be there. You know, Rhysand, that there is no changing your father’s mind once it’s set. I need the three of you to look out for her.”

Because Y/N is just as much a daughter to Roza as the little girl growing in her belly. They know that.

Rhys inclines his head, reaching out to place a hand over Roza’s. “We will, mother.” He promises. “Whatever game he’s playing…we’ll look after Y/N.”

Roza’s eyes dart to Azriel, to Cassian. “Do you promise?”

“We promise.” Cassian, unfazed as always, grins. “You just focus on the little one, Roz.”

Azriel’s face is grave, but he nods once. “We won’t let her out of our sight.”

Y/N is in good hands with them, Roza knows. She may even be in good hands with Fin, depending on what his true intentions are. Perhaps being at the High Lord’s side is the safest place she can be. It’s an unknown.

But one thing Azriel does know, as he wishes and wishes for this damn ball to just be over already, is that he’s wracked with guilt.

He can’t help feeling like it’s his fault — that his actions, his behaviour, chased Y/N right into a viper’s den.

That he’ll stop at nothing to get her out of it.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

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ayoogirlie · 2 months

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Before I start writing angst, let's go with something pleasant. I just recently started reading and watching MASHLE which is why I don't knowe many characters well.

MASHLE MAIN 5 X GN!READER (separated)

Main 5 falling in love with you!

Mash

This one is oblivious. He doesn't realise he holds special feelings for you. I believe at first he could have though of you as sibling.

You're just as important as his father so why not? The three of you could be a fine family.

He would share creampuff with you... just like with others. Honestly, it would be difficult to notice he likes you in that way. This man is so indifferent or more like he forgot to train his face muscles.

The thing that betrayed his feelings is the fact that he has been following you everywhere like a little duckling his mom.

Whether you have classes together or not. If you had them together — he would sit with you or at least close to you. Some rather prefer to sit alone, which helps them focus. On the other hand, if you have separated classes, he would always escort you to the class and only leave after making sure you sat down.

Mash's main love language would be act of service. I don't find him as a touchy guy — he would respect your personal space. The most he would do is grab the snip of your sleeve to not possibly lose you in crowd. (I find it cute honestly, like he would be to shy to grab your hand, so he would be happy with bare minimum.)

Going back to act of services. I think you would have a special privilege — flavoured creampuff. Coffee, chocolate, strawberry, etc., whichever you want. This guy would take you to kitchen and make you bake them together. Unless, your cooking is hopeless and you can set the kitchen on fire, then you're simply watching him work and talk about the silliest things.

Mash would definitely listen to your rambling. Well, at least he will try to. At some point, he would pass out, if he was overflowing with many new information. Please, go slow with him.

When asking others for help with you, he first would try to figure things out himself. Only if he had no more ideas, would he ask his friends for love advices (most likely Lance or Finn).

This guy is so sweet yet so clueless. He loves you so clumsily and as a boyfriend he doesn't change his attitude much. He already treated you in special way. Well, maybe he'll get more intimate with you. I'll leave it to your imagination.

Finn

I simply adore this boy. His love is as innocent as he is. Literally, he would be all red and shy when he realised his feelings for you.

He would get nervous around you and every possible physical contact would make him explode. He's too focused to not make any mistakes in front of you, that he forgets to relax.

Well, it's not like he's always like that. His heart would explode at this point. There are some moments, when he is even sweeter than he is now. It's when you simply sit somewhere and do nothing, just enjoying your existence. He feels so calm that he wish those moments would last forever.

Finn likes DIY. So I bet he would make some for you, it might be jewelry, plushie or something more practical. Whatever you'll ask for he will do. (If it's in terms of his skills.)

If you ask him to teach you how to make some, he would be more than happy. Who wouldn't be happy to spend time with their crush?

He would carefully explain everything and help you if you have any difficulties with the project. Sometimes I wonder where he gets all this patience from. Whether you would get discouraged or curse how hard it is, he would try to calm you down and explain your mistakes.

When I'm still talking about teaching. Study session. I just see with my eyes of imagination. The two of you sitting in library beside each other and bending over books. It depends on you — whether he's teaching you some subject or you just enjoy your company.

Finn loves animals. I think, he would always tell you many random fact about them and won't stop talking, until he gets a hold on himself.

When he finally remembers himself, he will start apologising and feeling bad about being the only one talking. Then you kave to reassure him that you really don't mind and he can continue.

As a boyfriend, he treats you very well. People might say he's a perfect boyfriend material, but you can see how much he tries and I hope you do as much for him as he does for you.

Lance

Honestly, I can't imagine him giving someone else attention than his sister. Like this sis-con on has Anna in his head. So you can imagine how everyone was surprised when they noticed his unusual behaviour towards you.

And it wasn't some big change. No. It was more subtle. He was less strict with you than he is with others. Whenever you seemed sad because of his, sometimes mean, comments, he would apologise. (It took him a lot of courage to say this simple words.) He was more careful with his act to not sadden you.

I believe that after some time of knowing each other he would tell you about his sister and maybe if he happens to trust you a lot — about her illness as well.

He strikes me as a gentleman at some point. He would hold the door for you, help you with school work and follow you almost everywhere as if it was his duty.

Unfortunately for you, his sister will always be his number one, so unless you accept this fact, I don't think he will try to do anything with your relationship.

As well as it was with Finn, you two would have study session together. This guy is so clever that it would be stupid not to ask for help with the subject, spell or other thing you have difficulties with.

He truly admires you. You saw him in numerous embarrassing situations, for example when he was talking to Anna's pictures etc. Everyone' else would already start avoiding him. Maybe that's why he finds you as a perfect match for himself. Someone who wouldn't judge his behaviour and just accept his 'imperfections'.

Lance would respect your personal space and it would have to be you who initiates physical contact (mostly before your relationship). But he would place his hand on your waist with excuse not to let you bump into others.

He looks like the guy who would give other people, who are talking to you, nasty glare, when you don't look. It's not that he doesn't believe in his charm, it's just the fact that he doesn't like others being to close or touchy with you.

As a boyfriend Lance becomes more possessive and clingy. He would hug you from behind and gets touchy when you least expect it. Well, at least you're never bored.

Dot

It's easy to captivate this hot-headed guy's heart... if you're a woman of course. Male readers have it harder. But now we are talking about the stage he is already in love.

He would always boast to his friends about how he's going to marry you with no shame. Of course, always when you're absent. If by chance you will witness him saying it. He would want to hide under ground.

He would always scream at the person, you would give too much attention. He gets easily jealous, but he act like thata with every male that gets too much attention from others.

That's why you don't realise he holds any special feelings towards you. He still acts like he act towards women, so you don't think any special of the way he treats you.

I believe Dot would be touchy with you. Like put his arm over your shoulder or surprise you from behind. Honestly, if he would have ever touched you in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable, as a man he is — he would never forgive himself.

In his eyes, he gives you special treatment. He doesn't play pranks on you and even with Lemon in room, he always focus on what you're saying and so on.

After some time, he gets more obvious that others notice his strange behaviour. He always stares at you, daydream about you two being together. His eyes are always following your person.

When you're close, he catch himself on enjoying your fragrance. Later of course, Dot will blame himself as well call himself a pervert. But you cannot be mad at him. He just can't get enough of you.

If he only could he would almost always hold you in his arms and never let go, while being too scared you might run away from him.

He is energetic, so as a boyfriend he would take you to many places. Date? Let's go to amusement park, if not, we have many other options. Of course, sometimes you two have home dates, where you just cuddle and enjoy eachother company.

Lemon

Congratulations. You just won over Mash and captured Lemon's heart. This turn of event surprised everyone, like literally everyone, even Mash.

Lemon would act similar like she did while having crush on Mash. She would be so delulu and talk about how the two of you are engaged and all (in fact you aren't... for now).

She would randomly grab your arm and hug it. People got used to seeing you this way. The two of you walking through the corridor, you look like those couples who always stick close to eachother.

She gets easily jealous of other people you're close with, expect for Mash, Lance, Finn and Dot, since she knows they won't try anything with you. When she feels threatened by someone, she would get closer to you or (in most cases) panic.

She would definitely share Cupid Gummies with you. Like she would buy it and almost immediately run to you only to give you some. She thinks of it as a special bond between the two of you.

Lemon blush a lot around you, that's for sure. You get too close? With red as tomato face, she would slap you. She gets a little violent when nervous, it's the fact you have to accept. But who can blame her? She's so happy to have you around that she cannot control her actions.

She's like a ray of sunshine, which is why whenever you're sad, she will try to make you feel better. Sometimes when words won't help, she just sits next to you. She wants you to know she will be always here for you.

You would get a lucky charm from her. One reason is that to keep you safe, other is to have her close to you. While making a design she would try to match with your taste. Like when she made Mash creampuff plushie, she would make something similar.

Whenever she would have problems with spells, she would go to you. Perfect excuse to spend time together! In exchange, she would teach you theory you would have problem with.

As a girlfriend, Lemon is very sweet. She wouldn't have to find excuses just to spend time with you. You would be often seen together eating lunch or walkings around while holding hands.

#mashle x reader #mash burnedead x reader #lemon irvine #lemon irvine x reader #finn ames #mash burnedead #lance crown #finn ames x reader #lance crown x reader #dot barrett #dot barrett x reader #mashle #writing

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vivwritesfics · 6 months

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Keep On Rolling - MV1

Chapter Six

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

1.9K words

Series Masterlist

A/N: I've actually had the best day (and it's only midday)! Did a couple of hours of studying, completing one of my essays, went to the outlet shop and found my perfect pair of cargos (my friends all look for xs so I feel bad when we go retail therapying, but I went alone and I'm so happy)

Silverstone. Lando's home race. Y/N couldn't wait. Ever since she was a little girl, Silverstone had been one of her favourites. When they were kids, Y/N's father had taken her and Lando to Silverstone. It was the first race Y/N had ever attended, and the race that let Y/N fall in love with Formula One.

It had been a full month since Y/N had last spoken to the current world champion. Y/N didn't know why Max wasn't speaking to her. Or answering her text messages. He'd been missing out of Y/N's life completely for the last month.

For once, Y/N had nothing special planned for Silverstone. Just a simple Q and A video.

Y/N missed the Friday free practice. Where she'd usually be there to watch Lando and the rest of her friends (namely Charles), but, this time, she was at home with her family.

British families had some weird traditions and Y/N's family was no exception. Every Sunday in the winter months they ate a huge roast dinner and every Sunday in the summer was reserved for having a barbeque.

With a job like Y/N's, she didn't much get to see her family. She was always away at the grand prix or the city hosting them. Her family missed her, sure, but they knew she was living her dream. So, whenever she was home, Y/N made sure to visit them.

Y/N sat at the dining table, checking her phone. Nothing from Lando, nothing from Charles, nothing from Danny. Nothing from... Max.

That was the most upsetting thing. Y/N hadn't spoken to Max in so long. She didn't realise she'd miss him until he disappeared. There had been a couple of times where she'd text him, but he'd only read it, not respond. Y/N was getting desperate. Desperate to hear from him, but they weren't in a place where she could beg. Right?

"Dinner!" Y/N's mother shouted as she and her brother ran in the dishes. Chicken, potatoes, sprouts, carrots, parsnips and more. Y/N's mother always went above and beyond with roast dinner. It was a whole performance for her.

Y/N allowed her mother to plate up her food. It was something she loved doing whenever Y/N was home, her way to welcome her back. "Mum, do you think we can watch the free practice?" She asked as her mother placed a Yorkshire pudding onto her plate.

"What? No way!" Her brother suddenly shouted across the table. "If Y/N gets to watch formula one I get to watch football!"

"Neither of you are watching anything. Y/N is going to make the most of being here with us before she makes her way up to Silverstone, okay?"

Y/N's mother was not a scary woman, not by any means. But, when she commanded something, it happened. Y/N and her brother nodded as they tucked into their food.

Y/N checked her last messages to Lando and Max beneath the table. Lando hadn't yet seen her message, but Max hadn't responded. A small part of her wanted to throw her phone at the nearest wall, but she didn't. Instead, Y/N slipped her phone back into her pocket and tightened her hand in a fist, nails digging into her palm.

Her family could tell something was wrong. Normally it was non-stop chatter about the world of the paddock. But, aside from her request to watch the free practice, Y/N didn't talk about formula one at all. Even when her brother tried to ask, Y/N answered with single words.

That night, in her childhood bedroom, Y/N looked at the pictures of her and Lando. Them in school, them at Lydden Hill for Lando's Karting career. Silverstone when Lando was in F2, Lando when he first joined McLaren and that was it. The rest of the pictures were in Y/N's own apartment, a place she hardly saw the point in paying for when she rarely lived there.

Her phone began to ring. Picking it up, Y/N placed it to her ear. "Hey, Lan," she said to her best friend as soon as she answered.

"How's your mum? How's your brother? How's the cat?" He asked quickly.

The cat in question was currently sleeping on Y/N's bed. The moment she moved out, the cat began living in her room, sleeping on her bed or in the empty closet.

"Mum is good, brother is good, cat is good," she said, sitting beside the cat and stroking her fur. "How was free practice? I tried to watch on the television but Mum wouldn't let me."

Lando told her all about free practice and how his day at Silverstone had been. He told her about the media things she and Oscar had to do, the fun he and Carlos had been having and more.

When he fell silent, Y/N found herself asking a difficult question. "Lan, is Max okay?" She asked him. "Does he hate me or something?"

"No," Lando answered quickly. "Why would he hate you?"

"Can you tell him to answer my texts then please."

Lando didn't answer that. How could he, when he was the reason for Max's silence? But, he couldn't tell Y/N, either. He could tell her that he was the reason Max was refusing to speak to her. So, Lando took it in a different direction.

"What's going on with you and Max?" He asked. His tone was genuinely curious, leading Y/N away from his crime.

Y/N shook her head. "Lan, nothing. Nothing is going on with Max and I. He was just the only person who let me interview him in Monaco. He just happened to be the person who helped me out after the drunken quiz video. Why does that mean something has to be going on with us?"

Again, Lando didn't answer. Guilt ripped through him. He was selfish, a selfish little boy. He drove Max away from Y/N just because he didn't want to lose his best friend

Lando was quick to end the call. He said his goodbyes and left Y/N to it. Max liked Y/N, he knew that much. But did she like him? God, he felt like a child back in secondary school as he thought about it.

***

"Hey guys, welcome to the Silverstone weekend," Y/N said to the camera as she sat on her bed with her cat in her lap. "As you can see, we are not in a hotel room for once. We are actually in my childhood bedroom and we have a visitor." Y/N held the cat up to the camera and waved her paw.

"Today we're going to be going in with a Q and A video," she said, pulling up her phone. "I know a lot of you have a lot of questions around how and why I do what I do, and I'm going to answer them all."

She went into her twitter and pulled up her first question. "Right, question one. How did you meet Lando?" She read and put the phone down. "Oh, what a story this is," she said and let out a little laugh. "When Lando and I first met each other, we hated each other. We were eleven years old, both starting at secondary school. In maths we got sat beside each other, and it all kicked off from there.

"Lando was so loud! Seriously, he did not stop talking. And he spread his stuff to my side of the desk, which really pissed me me off. So, I told him to shut up and he told me to bleep off, and then we became best friends."

The cat in her lap was purring as Y/N stroked her. She grabbed her phone and checked for the next question. There had been a lot on there asked about the nature of her relationship with Charles and her relationship with Max. They were things she wouldn't get into, only because it would make the situation so much worse.

"Ah, what do you do when you're not travelling around?" She read and put the phone back down. "Well, I travel to the grand prix and then I explore the city the grand prix is held in with my friends. These bits I don't usually film, but I'm considering doing city vlogs. If you guys would like to see this, drop a comment."

Y/N went on and on, reading through the questions. There were many about hers and Lando's friendship, many that allowed her to grab pictures of little Lando from the wall.

"What is your favourite quote from anyone on the grid at the minute?" She read.

It made her grin. "Well, I've got one that I use all the time which is when Charles says 'Lando we can be world champions', but I'm a big fan of those noises Danny makes? You know, 'ki ki ki ra!'" She shouted.

There was a noise from downstairs, her mother shouting a complaint.

After getting through at least twenty of the questions, Y/N checked the time on her phone. "Oh my," she gasped when she saw how late it was. Or, rather, how early in the morning it was. "I guess that's the end of the video," she said to the camera. "Thank you guys for watching. Like, subscribe and I'll see you at Silverstone," she said and got up to switch off the camera.

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky @arian-directioner @lazybot @lpab @princessria127 @fangirl125reader @honethatty12 @larastark3107 @urfavouritef1girly @cassiopeiia24 @callsign-scully @lexiecamposv @dl-yum @savagecelery @laneyspaulding19 @formulas-bitch @teenwolf01 @gayfrog29 @fictionalcomforts

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midniiights-garden · 4 months

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Modern!Mizu General Headcanons!!

I have so many many ideas for Modern!Mizu omg you don't understand (I wish she was real...)

Ok, so first of all I wanna start out with some HCs about her past and her mother.

I think she probably grew up in rural Japan, her relationship with her mother basically still the same as in the show.

Due to not being exposed to very many foreigners her relationship with her peers was strained because of her blue eyes (ofc. hate discrimination smHHH)

Anyways, although Mizu doesn't have to hide her gender, and I personally headcanon that Modern!Mizu wouldn't hide it, she still has some internalized mysogyny.

This is namely due to the huge issue with sexisim in Japan, sexual harassment and sexualisation of women and so on. Mizu grew up wishing she was a boy because she didn't want to feel like a piece of meat to be eyed up and down and sold.

I HC that she meets the Swordfather when she attempted to run away from home. Probably due to another bullying incident or something.

In my head she actually moves to America or Europe to study something related to craftsmanship or to become a professional martial artist. It makes the most sense in my head at least.

She got into Uni on a scholarship lol. I mean, translated into a modern setting I do think her skill would be enough to warrant a large scholarship.

University was a rough time in the beginning for her due to the many changes that come with moving to a new country, as myself and most other third country kids will know.

Mizu had to juggle learning English, beating racist asshole and school all at the same time.

Due to her reluctance to socialize she also struggles to learn English in the verbal sense. She learned how to read and write in English much faster than to speak it because she had no one practice with. That, and she refused to talk to anyone.

As for how she met Mikio...

Modern!Mizu probably met him because he was a teacher at her Uni.

Long story short when he finds out how she was concieved and how strong he is, well, big strong man gets emasculated and throws a fit and Mizu leaves him (as she should)

And then she realises she's gay lol

I think it'd happen in a pretty similar fashion as to Canon!Mizu but you can look at my headcanons for those if you need them.

I think the main differences between Modern!Mizu and Canon!Mizu would primarily be in how she deals with her rage. Of course, Modern!Mizu isn't allowed the luxury of just stabbing people to get revenge so I believe she may resort to a lot of physical exertion in the gym or just a lot of lashing out towards people in general.

(A/N: Yayayayayya second post for the day!!! As usual, if anyone has any requests or anything feel free to ask!! Happy holidays everyone!!! <3)

#mizu blue eye samurai #i love women #blue eye samurai #wlw #i love fictional characters #mizu x you #mizu x reader #mizu #mizu come home the kids miss you #x reader #headcannons #x you fluff #fluff

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klausysworld · 10 months

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you can write a raunchy one-shot for yandere klaus, where he was quiet at home thinking about his love, and out of nowhere he got a text from her telling him she knows about his obsession with her and asking him to come to her house to talk, and Klaus runs over to y/n's, only to find her on his bed in her lingerie and asking him to fuck her like a wild animal.

Not so secret obsession

Klaus was sat in his art room, looking over his paintings and pencil studies of his muse.

She truly was sculpted by goddesses. He imagined her to be one of Aphrodite’s descendents.

He took a sip of his bourbon as he leant back in his chair, he craved her attention so unbelievably much. He would do absolutely anything for this girl, whether it were mass murder or suicide, if she asked it of him then how could he deny her?

His fingertips fiddled with the lace material of her panties, they were plum purple in colour and soft to touch. They one of his favourites of her things. He can still remember when he saw her buy them, when she went into the dressing room to try them on. He was nearly caught that day but it was worth his rime and near exposure when he was able to obtain said panties mere seconds after she had worn them.

Just as he went to unzip his trousers, his phone pinged from a very familiar number.

One he had memorised in the first 5 seconds of seeing.

Y/n.

He opening it immediately, putting his drink and the underwear aside and sitting up straighter in his seat.

I know your little secret

He read. His eyes narrowed at the screen and waited for the three dots at the bottom to form a message

How you watch me when you think I don’t know.

He swallowed thickly but didn’t reply, he took a nervous gulp of his drink and watched his phone intently

I’m not upset about it, maybe you could come over and we can talk about everything?

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t suspicious of her words. Perhaps this was another plot to try and fail to kill him.

But at the same time, she was inviting him over to her house, it would be incredibly stupid on his behalf if he passed up such an opportunity.

I’ll be there in 5.

He sent before flashing to his room.

He fixed his hair and made sure he smelt strongly of his cologne, his shirt was a tad too tight but he wanted it that way. In under 30 seconds he had sorted himself out and gotten into his car where he practically inhaled a dozen mints in the fear she would be able to taste the blood on his tongue from earlier that day.

Just as he pulled up, he received another message

Just come straight in

And he didn’t hesitate.

He sped straight up the stairs to where he could hear her heartbeat, her bedroom.

A wetted his lips as he turned the handle and opened the only thing now between them.

The open door revealed a sight that would surely never leave his mind.

Seeing her in only a black lingerie set with stockings pulled right the way up her thighs. Her legs spread, one hand on cupping her breast through the lace while the other had dipped just below the panties.

He slowly, cautiously made his way over to her. His eyes locked on hers as she moaned softly, her hips thrusting upward with her hand as she pulled her fingers away from her slippery cunt and to her mouth, sucking them clean.

“My love…” he breathed, his hand slowly moving to squeeze one of her breasts when he realised she wouldn’t push him away.

“I want you Klaus” she whispered “I want you to show what an all powerful hybrid can do” she purred, her hand lifting his shirt to trail across his abs.

“That’s a dangerous thing to ask for” he uttered, there was no fucking way this was actually happening. Klaus was 90% sure he was in his own head.

But when her mouth wrapped around his fingers and she brought them to her bare pussy, it had never felt more real.

His throat felt dry as he rubbed her precious little clit. He tore the scrap of fabric from her quickly to give him a better view while his other hand kneaded at her breast.

Her loud moan had his head turning to her, her teeth were biting at her bottom lip as she watched his hand between her legs. He moved his finger faster circular motions, she let out a hot breath and leant further forward on her elbows.

He brought his fingers away from her, his pride growing when she whined and reached for his hand

“Don’t stop” she whispered but he ignored her and licked his fingers hungrily.

The hand from her breasts moved to her neck, pulling her up onto her knees so her face was right in his chest before he forced her head back and pushed his lips to hers with need. Her little gasp into his mouth was enough for his tongue to get inside hers. His arm circled her and pushed her straight against him. His hand grabbed at her ass harshly, her tongue fought against his, her lack of submission was an issue for him. So his hand pulled at her hair hard, he relished in her pain filled whimper and took the opportunity to claim his dominance over her mouth.

Her hands pushed at his chest making the kiss break much to his dismay. Her eyes looked up to his as his hand trailed up and down her stocking clad legs.

“Do you like them?” She asked, a teasing edge to her tone. “You add them to your collection” she whispered lowly making his eyes darken.

“How long have you known?” His voice was gravelly, and it made her walls flutter.

“Just a couple weeks…you really do love me” she murmured, her hand on his bare chest after she managed to get his shirt over his head. “I saw you…when I was touching myself, you really do enjoy it don’t you?” She whispered, his breathing grew heavier as her hand rubbed him through his trousers. “I got to see this once” she told him, her fingers unzipping his pants and popping the button “Just couldn’t help yourself could you?” She whispered, she palmed him through his boxers with doe eyes staring up at him. “Normally you don’t wear these…or is that just for when you come to see me? Want to be ready to feel yourself up while you watch my fingers touch myself”

He hissed as the cool air surrounded his hardened dick as she peeled his boxers down his legs.

“You are something else” he muttered down at her, his eyes eagerly watching as she lusted over his size. His hand got ahold of her jaw firmly and pulled her further down so her lips ghosted his tip. “Don’t be a tease” he warned, his hand tightening around her face, his fingers squeezing her cheeks.

“Is this one your fantasies?” she whispers, her eyes dark as she gazed up at him. The low rumble he emitted only turned her on more. “Do you think about this before you go to sleep? Do you dream about my lips on your cock” she purred

“In my dreams yours much more compliant, docile.” he growls before grabbing his dick and pushing it into her mouth, a sigh leaving his lips when she immediately began to suck. His hand moved round to the back of her head, bunching up her hair in his grip and pushing her head back and forth at a slow rhythm. “That’s a good girl” he breathed, his other hand stroked the base of his cock tenderly. “Something tells be you’ll be in this position much more than I originally thought hm?” She hummed in response making his hips jerk and her to choke on his head

“Look at you,” he whispered “drooling all over me” he chuckled quietly, the hand on his dick moved to grab hers and brought it to his balls where her salvia had dripped to, making her fondle them in her hand. She moaned around him and bobbed her head a little faster. He pulled her head back for her mouth to concentrate on his tip, her tongue swirling round it as she whimpered, her eyes on his making him groan.

He pulled her by her hair and off of his cock, he stroked himself a few more times to even out his breathing. He could feel her head tugging against his hand to have him back in her mouth but he kept her still in both interest and amusement. He wanted her to submit to him.

“Don’t you want to cum in my mouth” she teased but the underlying need was there in her tone. He tilted his head and smirked at her

“Why would I do that when I have your whole body to fill up” he hummed and her face flushed red. His eyes earned a certain twinkle to them as he stroked her chin, seeing her mouth open and close trying to find words to respond but he shushed her before she could.

He bent down and pressed his lips to hers, softer this time to begin with but he couldn’t control himself long enough for the kiss to be sweet, instead he only became hungrier especially now his dick was throbbing now he had felt her pretty lips around it.

His hands pushed her down onto the mattress and his body crawled on top of hers but before he could get his hand to her leg, she had rolled them over so she was above him. Her hands pinning his above his head and her mouth moving to his neck forcing an involuntary moan from him as her bare pussy rubbed against his cock.

His hips bucked up, his tip hitting against her clit making her moan out and pull away from the kiss. Which gave him the opportunity to push her back under him. He held her, face down on her stomach, her hands trying to push herself up but the pressure on her back was too much

“For someone who wanted me to show you the hybrid…to be animalistic…you sure are disobedient” he muttered while his fingers unclipped her bra and pulled her arms out of the straps so he could toss it away.

He moved to sit at the backs of her thighs, his hand still pushing her down as he stroked his dick to the sight of her bare ass. She could hear his heavy breaths as he rubbed himself, it took everything she had to lift her hips against his hold, pressing her behind to his front. His hand met here arse in a harsh slap before her legs were pushed apart, she let out a squeak as his cock slipped through her folds to her entrance.

“Raise your ass again and I’ll bury myself inside it” he whispered lowly and she moaned loudly in response

“I assure you, I would have no complaints” she practically purred, his pupils dilated further as the image of her stuffed with his cock in her ass and fingers in her cunt.

His hand pressed down on the back of her neck as his other continued to rub himself slowly as he directed her tip toward the source of her wetness. His hips rocked allowing her lips to soak him before pushing inside her with a groan. So many restless nights spent contemplating this moment, he expected to be waiting months if not over a year and now here hear was with her begging to be fucked.

His grip on her neck got firmer as his eyes struggled to remain open and her needy little cunt swallowed him in. He could hear her whore like moans clearly despite her face smushed against her bed.

His other veined hand squeezed her plump ass tenderly as his hips rolled beautifully. Her teeth cling to her bottom lip as she felt him slowly slide in and out of her, her soft walls so tight around him that she could feel every pulsing vein on his dick. Her mind felt hazy, her hands holding onto her sheets as though it were impossible to let go as he stretched her to her capacity.

Both hands moved in opposite directions to slip along her back, he got ahold of the areas between her neck and shoulders and squeeze lightly. Once happy with his grip, he smirked to himself and brought his hips back far so that only his tip wait at her entrance before shoving himself right inside. He relished in the loud gasp followed by a mix of pain and pleasure filled moan she released, her body tensing and relaxing around him.

Her eyes grew wider as he continued with the same technique, sheaving himself back in her each time and leaving her breathless. “Much better sweetheart” he murmured as she lay completely at his mercy. She whimpered beneath him as his pace grew faster and he rubbed the side of her neck with his thumb “good girl” he whispered to her and grunting when she tightened around him in response.

His thrusts quickened and he groaned loudly, his head fell forward and his lips remained parted as his body mindlessly fucked into her roughly. His eyes shone a rich gold as his lids opened lazily. He could feel her skin bruising underneath his hands from how hard he was gripping her, he could hear the bed creaking and the harsh slap of his balls against her sopping cunt.

Her cries were one of the most pleasant sounds he had ever heard as they rang throughout the room without a pause in breath. Her little pussy squeezed him deliciously, her grip on him so tight that her hips moved back and forth with his. He chuckled to himself before holding her still, smacking her arse harshly earning a exasperated whine from her swollen lips as he carried on roughly pounding into her.

His hand slipped down her thigh, pulling her lace stocking higher up and groaning as her hips lifted and she pushed herself up onto her knees though her face was still helplessly panting against the sheets. Her back arched perfectly to have his cock ram right into her cervix. Her mouth fell open at the sensation that covered his sensitive tip and his hips began to snap to hers supernaturally fast.

He could so clearly hear how soaked she was as he slid back and forth, could hear her clit pulse and the desire to choke her so hard she couldn’t stop herself from letting go around him was too high not to.

His large veined hand slid up to the back of her neck, smoothing round the skin to get a grip around her throat so that a silent scream scratched at her vocal cords. He pulled her back to her chest, her ear just above his lips as he breathed hot and heavy breaths against her skin.

No noise was able to leave her as she closed around his dick, a flow of her pleasure gushing down him as her eyes rolled back and he entirely cut of her air flow.

“Oh you liked that didn’t you sweetheart?” He laughed through breaths as he continued to harshly fuck into her. And when his hand dropped down between her legs to toy with her red puffy clit, she could’ve cum right away. He let go of her neck, allowing a shouted version of “oh my fucking god” to fill the room as her head threw back against his shoulder.

He turned his head to see her mouth hung open and panting ragged breaths. It felt as though his cock were swelling all that much more when he shoved his mouth onto hers, both moaning into each other as he licked the inside of her cheek. He just knew if he spat in her mouth she would whimper like a good slut and swallow.

She struggled to comprehend the intensity of the pleasure that coursed through her every atom. Her mouth was barely able to move against his eager lips as her moans and whines were muffled and absorbed.

He pulled away to look down, his eyes soaking up the sight of her bounding tits and his hips rutting somehow faster. Both hands moved to lift her legs from the backs of her knees, holding them up against her sides as she screamed out as she pressed a hand to her abdomen where the outline of his cock rammed in and out of.

“I’m gonna fuck you so many ways” he drawled as he felt her squeeze him impossibly tight “bend you over every possible surface and when we run out I’ll just fuck you in the air” he whispered into her ear, feeling her tremble and shake in his hands.

She choked on her own breathing as his fingertips dig into her thighs as he stuttered in his brutal pace. He let out a long groan as his hips froze in place and thick ropes of cum flooded her. He held her in place as she let out a series of cries and her hands grabbed ahold of his wrists for support as she felt herself fill beyond capacity.

Her lips parted and her eyes widened as his hand dropped one of her legs and rubbed her belly as he pumped her so full of his cum that she had swelled with it. He mumbled incoherently as he kissed the base of her neck and pulled himself out of her. He helped lay her down, his hand moving to cup her cunt in an attempt to keep his load inside her.

Her head hit the pillow behind her with a soft moan as her hand moved to her stomach “gonna have my babies” he murmured while kissing her shoulder and then along her arm. “so many babies” he repeated as he moved back to her neck and nipped along the skin.

“Oh god” she whispered and he hummed

“Never ever letting you go now sweetheart. You’re all mine” he purred before burying his teeth into her neck, imprinting his mark on her forever.

(I quite like this one im ngl)

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evansbby · 1 year

Note

Maybe like a Drabble where he gets omega to send him nudes while he’s at practise and they have phone sex 😰😰😰

Okay so I kind of went full on slut mode and wrote the most depraved slutty thing ever. Be warned. 😩🥵

Pairing: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader

Warnings: phone sex, daddy!kink, dubcon/noncon, dark Steve, Steve has an obsession with your titties, Steve is a fuckboy, 18+ only, minors dni

Summary: Steve wants phone sex and it’s not like you can say no to him.

"Baby, send me a picture."

It's the first thing Steve says to you when you pick up the phone. You've just finished drying your hair and applying your skincare when your phone vibrates, your alpha's name glowing on the screen and making your heart skip a beat.

"Wh-What?" Your eyes widen immediately and you gulp, "Steve, I... I thought you were at practice?"

He grunts, "I am. We’re taking a break but the coach wants to keep us all night. Guess you won't see me until tomorrow."

His words make your heart sink — no Steve for the night? The thought makes the omega inside you mourn in desolate despair. You've gotten used to his intense warmth at night, and how he holds you so tightly and buries his face in your neck, and presses kisses on your skin and rubs you soothingly up and down your body, and-

"Omega. I asked you a question."

You quickly snap out of your daydream, "Oh. I'm sorry, Steve. I didn't hear you."

Steve sighs in irritation, "I asked you what you're doing right now."

"Well, I did the laundry and then I studied. Then I took a shower and now I've just finished my skincare and I'll probably just read my book before I go to bed."

"Mm, how was it?"

"My book? It's pretty good, actually. I'm almost finished with it, it's about—"

"Not the fucking book, your shower." Steve snaps before inhaling sharply, "Your shower, baby, how was it?"

You’re already dreading where he's going with this, "It was fine."

"Did you touch yourself?" He sounds strained, and you hope to God he's alone right now. He most likely is, because you hear his fly unzipping, and his tone grows husky. "Answer me, baby. Did you touch yourself in the shower?"

"N-No!"

"Don't lie, baby omega." Steve laughs hoarsely before clearing his throat, "I know you touch yourself. I don't like it because I want to be the only one who touches your little pussy because I own it. But it's still hot when I hear you in the shower sometimes."

Your mouth drops open, "What...No! I don't do that!"

Another chuckle, "Are you calling me a liar?"

"No! I just... You probably just... uh... You probably just misheard!" You want to bury your head in the ground, and a part of you is happy that your alpha isn't here to see how mortified you look in person.

"Mm, I don’t think I misheard your squeaky little moans, or the sound of you fingering yourself. Tell me baby, how many fingers can you fit up there?”

“Steve!”

“Address me properly, omega. Or else you don’t even want to know what I’ll do with you tomorrow.”

The edge in his tone and the looming threat of a punishment has you bowing your head, the phone trembling in your hands. “Sorry, daddy.”

“Good girl. Now tell me what you did in the shower.”

You’d rather die, but you know you have to answer him. “I —uh— I did what you just said.”

“I want you to say it.”

The heat is rising in your cheeks, and you look helplessly at Steve Junior, as if he could help you get out of this debacle. You can hear a steady pumping on the other end of the phone, and it doesn’t take a vivid imagination to realise what Steve’s doing.

“I—uh—I was touching myself.” You whisper.

“I know, baby. Daddy always knows.” You hear him spit down on his dick (or you imagine that’s what he’s doing) and then the pumping resumes. “That’s so fucking hot, my baby omega touching herself and thinking about her daddy in the shower. How many fingers could you fit in, baby?”

You bite your lip, “Um… I don’t know.”

“Answer the fucking question.”

“Two! Only two! Hurts if I do more!” You blurt out.

“What a fucking baby.” Steve hisses, the pumping getting faster, and it sounds so lewd over the phone. “I’ve split your little cunt in half over my dick but you’re still so tight, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, daddy.” You press your thighs together, the desperation and lust in his tone mixed with the condescension makes you want to spontaneously combust.

“Mm, and I know you look so sexy in the shower, all that soapy water all over your body, the hottest omega on campus and you’re all mine. Fuck, if I was there right now I’d already be inside you. No prep.”

“Please.” It’s a whisper and a moan, and you squeeze your thighs even tighter.

“Send me a picture, baby. I need to see what you look like. Show me your tits, and make sure your face is showing too.”

“But Steve—”

“Do it. Or else.” He grunts, sounding almost crazed with lust as he co to he’s to jack off. You can imagine how hard his dick is, how angry and red and hard and leaking with precum. Steve swears before continuing, “And make sure to squeeze your tits and play with your nipples. Be a dirty fucking whore for daddy, okay? Now do it.”

Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re alone right now. You quickly turn Steve Junior so he’s facing the other way, before taking your top off. It’s embarrassing, and you’re self-conscious throughout, but you manage to do what Steve says, snapping a few selfies where you think you look entire ridiculous. But you send them anyways, hoping they’re good enough.

There’s a pause before Steve lets out a moan. And it’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard—hearing him moan like that. It makes you wonder where he is, and hope to God that he’s alone.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy, baby.” Steve hisses, “Looking so innocent while you play with your tits. Bet you could make millions off of these pictures.”

“Please, just delete them!”

“I’ll add them to my collection. But don’t worry, sweet girl, these are for my eyes only. None of those other horny fucks at college deserve to even look at you.”

His words are oddly comforting, but your breath hitches when —out of nowhere— Steve ends the call. But only two seconds pass by before your phone vibrates again and you gulp.

A video call.

“I want to watch you, baby.” It’s Steve, and he’s in a locker room, his voice echoing and it looks like he’s alone. He’s shirtless too, and you bite your lip at his muscular body, and the veins that protrude as he flexes his arm. His fingers wrap around his huge dick, his eyes boring into yours as he jacks himself off.

“Put the phone somewhere and then I want you to play with your tits some more.” He orders, a slight strain on his voice, “And don’t even think about arguing with me, omega.”

Submissively, you prop your phone up against some pillows before doing exactly what he tells you to. You try to pretend it’s him touching you, him squeezing your breasts and twisting your nipples with his expert touch. But your hands are no match for his calloused, expert fingers.

“Mm, just like that, baby omega. You’re so hot, such a fuckin’ tease—putting on a show for daddy, aren’t you? I said, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes!” You whimper.

“Good baby. Now squeeze your tits together. Mm, just like that. I wish you could see how sexy you look. You wish daddy was there, don’t you? I’d fuck your tits, baby. Bet you’ve never experienced that, have you? Fuck, I know your tits would feel so soft and sexy on my dick.”

Every word that’s coming out of his mouth is pure filth. Pure, utter filth but it’s like he’s switched a button inside you, and you can’t help but whimper at his words, wanting every single depraved thing he’s promising to do to you.

“Daddy,” you cry softly, suddenly feeling needy for him, and it only eggs him on further, his hand now a blur as he pumps his hard cock.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby. No one does it for me like you do, omega. Fuck, I need you to show me your ass now. Turn around. Slowly, I want to see everything.”

You don’t even hesitate, your pussy now throbbing with need as you turn around. You’re only wearing a pair of thin flowery panties and he hasn’t asked you to take them off, but they’re so small that both your ass cheeks are on display.

“Fuck, your ass is so sexy, baby omega. Arch your back a bit more for daddy. Mm, just like that. That’s so good, fuck. You have the best ass on campus, baby. Best ass I’ve ever seen.” Steve’s blonde hair has fallen down over his forehead, his blue eyes bright and excited, cheeks red and so is his dick. “Point your ass at your camera baby. And shake it for daddy, let me see it bounce.”

A large part of you feels so silly and awkward, but you’re so horny at this point that all common sense goes out the window, and again you do exactly what he asks you to. God, you’re so happy you’re alone in the house right now—if anyone saw you, you’d never live it down.

Steve runs a hand impatiently throw his hair, brushing it back with his eyes glued on you the entire time. You can see his abs flexing, his chest riding up and down as he breathes rapidly. He’s so ridiculously attractive, it’s insane.

“Now spank yourself.”

Your eyes fly open, a protest on the tip of your tongue but you’re silenced by the warning look in his eyes.

“Do it right fucking now, omega.” Steve says through gritted teeth, “Don’t you want to make your alpha proud?”

“I-I do, but—”

“Then fucking smack your baby ass just like how I would if I was there. And keep your eyes on me the whole time, omega. Don’t you dare close them—I want you looking at me while you do it.”

It’s mortifying, but you do what he says, his blue eyes so dark and blown out with lust, locked with yours as you lightly spank yourself.

“Harder, baby. Like how I would do it.”

You immediately obey, smacking your ass harder, letting out a quiet ow as you do it.

“Mm, I love how your little ass jiggles, baby. Tell me, did that hurt?” Steve asks, still pumping his hard dick with his eyes locked on you.

You inhale shakily, “A little.”

“As much as it does when daddy hits you?”

“N-No.” you shake your head, lowering your gaze as you feel the submissive part of you take over completely, “I’m not big and strong like you, daddy.”

“Mm, you’re fucking teasing me, omega. Damn right you’re not. You’re just a baby, a weak little fucking baby who needs her daddy all the time, don’t you?” Steve is close, you can tell from how his pumps grow faster and faster, and you can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Mm, just a baby. Need my daddy.” You hear yourself whining, and that’s when you notice that you’re humping against the mattress, still trussed up and with your ass pointed at your phone. Your thighs gleam with your own arousal, wetness dripping down your legs almost obscenely.

“Fuck, look at that little baby ass. Wish I could cum all over your ass, baby.” Steve grunts, “That’s what I’m gonna do when I get home tomorrow. Spank the fuck out of you till you can’t sit straight, and then cum all over you till you’re covered in my scent. Fuck, shake your fucking ass for me, omega. I’m gonna fucking cum.”

And he does. And it’s incredible. Spurt after spurt of white cum shooting out of his dick while you watch with an open mouth. There’s sweat dripping down his body and his jaw is tense, and he lets out a string of swears mixed with your name as he unloads.

And you’re rutting against the mattress the whole time you watch him, but it’s not enough. You need more. You need him. And it makes you sob in frustration, you’re so wet… So wet but you need your alpha to touch you how only he knows how to.

“Daddy, please,” you sob softly.

“Aw, baby omega,” Steve coos once he’s recovered from his orgasm, “Look at you, still so needy. I can see your drippy little baby pussy has made a mess of the sheets. You’re a horny little baby, aren’t you? But you’re too stupid to make yourself cum.

“Please help.” You beg him.

Steve laughs, “Why would I do that?”

Your jaw drops, “Wh-What?”

Steve’s already pulling his football jersey over his head, “I have practice, baby. And anyways, you’re not allowed to touch your pussy, only I am. Therefore, you’re gonna have to hold off until tomorrow.”

“That’s not fair, Steve!”

“That’s not fair, Steve!” He mocks you in a high-pitched voice before laughing, “Don’t pout. I’ll make you feel real good tomorrow, so long as you’re ready for me. Naked and on your hands and knees, like how every omega should wait for her alpha.”

“B-But—”

“Gotta go, omega, the coach is calling the team over. Thanks for the show, I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.”

THE END

#steve rogers #Chris evans #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #poyt drabble #anon

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brighter-by-the-daly · 9 months

Text

Mary Earps x Reader

Flatmates & Handshakes

Part of the Beth McCarthy mini song series

Friendship Bracelet

I'm not bitter

I'm happy you're happy, it's just

I loved you first

And it's not like it was easy

But we had each other

Now you have another

And I hate it, I hate it

So go ahead and burn my friendship bracelet

Your eyes were locked in, eyebrows furrowed and squinting slightly to assert dominance as you sauntered up to the penalty spot opposite Mary. She had that dirty smirk on her face that she does when she’s trying to intimidate people but that doesn’t work on you - she knew that so you wondered why she’s even trying! You’d been friends for years and became roommates after you both joined Man U but since moving to Barcelona, you’re now on the opposite side of the field. As the ref tried to sort out a ruckus between the players behind, you cemented the spot as yours. Nobody knows you like Mary.. but nobody knows Mary like you either. Endless days of practicing penalties against her probably makes her think she can read you like a book. But you know her tactics too; how she reads body language and positioning, studies every member of a team before a game and has player stats on her water bottle. You noticed she didn’t check it for you though, clearly thinking she had this one in the bag. Since leaving the country for Spain you hadn’t kept in contact at all, she’d unfollowed you on social media and blocked your number. It’s sad but it’s not your fault, she’s the one that ruined the friendship.

From teenagers you’d grown into women together, spending nights holding each other’s hair back over a toilet is where your friendship blossomed after your under 19 games. She was a liability but she was your liability and equally you were hers - always taking it in turns to be the sensible one. As you grew up, both of you realised you wanted to take football more seriously and those nights became few and far between… probably for the best really! Your late nights turned into bleary eyed car rides and sitting on the boot analysing the stars. Sometimes you would catch yourself missing it when you were driving home in the dark by yourself, wondering if she looks at the stars and thinks of you too. Those were the days when days were simple. You had plans to grow old together in the same care home causing havoc everyday but moving in together you soon realised you weren’t compatible as roommates. Well.. it wasn’t Mary that was the problem, she was your platonic soulmate, it was her boyfriend that caused the breakdown in your friendship. Mary’s boyfriend took great offence to the different people you bought home most weekends, he didn’t want Mary around that and for someone who never had a problem with it, she soon took his side over yours. You were young and single, what else was there to do? She used to be like that too until she wanted something better.

You’re not bitter, you just hate the way things were left. It was a huge row fuelled by her boyfriend being home one night when you bought yet another person back to the flat. He lit the spark, making one simple comment then sat back and watched Mary implode; throwing you out along with all of your belongings in the middle of the night. Ripping her friendship bracelet off like you would a wedding ring and throwing it as she slammed the door in your face. Luckily, that’s when Barca approached and just in time to get you out of the WSL and out of the country.

Unfortunately for you though Man U had qualified for the Champion’s League this season which meant playing them and her in the quarter final. There’s nothing you would have loved more than to be benched for this game but you’d really come on leaps and bounds since being at Barca. They’d developed your game into something you could have only dreamed about when you were little and was now a firm starter on the team. Unluckily for Mary, you were their star penalty taker too.

After one misplaced and badly timed tackle caused Geyse to fall to the floor inside the box, a penalty was immediately awarded. The score was currently 1-1 and with not a lot of time left on the clock, this was your time to shine. Mary had the longest clean sheet streak in the WSL and was only a few games away from making women’s football history. You know how much keeping her clean sheet means to her which meant you had to break it. There’s nothing you want more than to rip her streak away from her and rub that smug look off of her face.

You knew she would never expect you to shoot with your left foot, but that’s just one skill you’d picked up in Spain that she didn’t know about yet. Yeah, it’s your weaker foot but it’s your highest chance of getting it past the best goalie in the world - as much as you hated her winning that award, you knew she deserved it. The ref’s whistle hurtled through your ears as you started your run up. Making sure you didn’t give her any inkling of what way you were going until the last possible second. Watching her dive left as you shot right -

GOOOOOAAAAALLLLL!!!!!

Not waiting for the ball to hit the back of the net you ran to the fans, knee sliding into the corner as you were bundled from behind by your teammates. One by one the bodies plucked themselves from you just as they were replaying the goal on the big screen. Looking up to see Mary’s pissed off face projected onto it made you the happiest you’d been in ages, revenge certainly feels sweet!

Confidently taking your time strolling to the middle of the pitch to restart, nothing could wipe the happy little smirk off your face. Touching the ball a few times before the final whistle blew and cementing your team into the championship final. Shaking hands with your old teammates who passed you and chatting to the few who stopped to catch up, you didn’t see Mary approach from behind. Gloved hands grabbed your shoulders and turned your body around to face her, “when did you learn to shoot with your left foot?” her voice sounding annoyed and a little impressed at the same time. “Few months ago, been saving it for a special occasion” you shrugged, not knowing what the reaction would be to your response. “Oh and you thought ruining my streak was a special occasion aih?” her voice animated as she nudged your ribs. “It was the only way I’d get it past the best goalie in the world” a hint of sarcasm in your sentence raised a small one sided smile from your ex best friend. “If anyone was going to ruin it, I’m glad it was you” taking your hand in hers and pulling your chests into each other. Disentangling your limbs you sensed a slight glimmer in both your eyes, wondering if the other remembered your old handshake. A few seconds passed as the situation was assessed by both of you before bursting into amateur dramatics and performing the handshake that was created on your 17th birthday.

Laughing together in the middle of the pitch you stopped suddenly, tilting your head to one side and sighing. “I’ve missed you” taking the first step of admitting the truth about the estranged friendship. Throwing her arm around your shoulders as you walked towards the dugouts, “me too, we’ve got lots to catch up on” Mary smiled disappearing up the tunnel together, loud giggling echoing off the metal walls.

#mary earps #mary earps x reader #england wnt x reader #lionessss x reader #england x reader #man united women #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso masterlist #woso fanfics #woso imagine #Spotify

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lost-in-lamentation · 7 months

Note

It probably isn't the best pair, but could I suggest "I'll take over from here, you go rest" with Mammon?

(Or with Lucifer if it comes easier)

(Writer's block is a pain, I hope you can defeat that beast soon and I wish you a good day)

a/n: thank you for the well wishes anon (´ω｀) also praying that i can defeat it soon ..

prompt #2: mammon + “i’ll take over from here, you go rest.”

content: tired reader who needs some extra help getting errands done.

warnings: brief dizziness for the reader.

comfort. mammon x gen!reader (you/your).

you groaned internally when your d.d.d. pinged with a loud notification. during your study time, you always kept it on silent, with the exception of lucifer’s contact allowed to bypass the do not disturb settings. if your phone was going off, it meant lucifer had another task for you. with a sigh, you tapped your screen awake, groaning again when you saw that lucifer wanted you to run to multiple stores. you replied back with a quick “okay”, not wanting to stir lucifer’s mood. before heading out, you stopped by mammon’s room, poking your head through the doorway. a call of his name had the room responding in silence, and you realised a few seconds later that his car wasn’t in the room either. guess he’s out doing who knows what, you thought to yourself.

adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you set out for your first errand, which in hindsight, should have been your last. you weren’t sure what went through your head when you decided on the grocery store first. the amount of food for beel alone had you stopping for breaks as you carried the bags around. the second stop wasn’t much better; lucifer had definitely underestimated how many packages were at the postal office for pick up. the demon at the front desk had half a mind to ask if you needed assistance to take everything back, but with the cost of extra shipping, you end up grumbling “no thanks,” before putting on a strained smile and hauling your belongings out to the street.

you weighed your options once you got outside. beel would definitely be able to carry most of this, but he’d snack on the groceries before you even got halfway home. lucifer was not to be disturbed, of course. satan would most likely be holed up in his room reading, while levi would be playing games. mammon was nowhere to be found, and as for asmo and belphie; “out of the question,” you huffed. sighing despondently, you stuffed as much as you could into your backpack before sliding all the bag handles around your forearms. the weight made you dizzy and had you teetering dangerously from side to side. your teeth broke skin as you bit down on your lip, the effort of staying up and trying to hold everything going far past your abilities. finally, you took a shaky step forward, but a particularly heavy bag swung too far in front, sending you barreling towards the ground. you had given up, accepting your fate of crashing into a muddy puddle when a shriek from up ahead caught your attention.

you felt arms circle tightly around your torso, and your head landed on a shoulder you were very familiar with. “oh, mammon?” you practically slurred the question, your mind not all where it should be.

“that’s all ya have to say?!” mammon shouted at full volume, despite being right next to you. “seriously human, what are you even doin’ with all this?” he grunted with the effort to set you upright, tugging the bags off your arms and forcing you to get rid of the backpack that was dragging you down.

“lucifer asked me to run errands,” you said quietly, your hand clasping mammon’s shoulder to stabilise yourself. you failed to notice the red dusting mammon’s cheeks as you gripped even tighter.

the white haired demon hooked an arm around your waist in response, holding you up. “and you decided that you could carry all this?” mammon chided quietly when you shook your head, his gaze softening when he saw how quiet you were becoming. “okay, okay, come on. can you walk? my car’s over there.”

you blinked your vision back into focus, now seeing the way mammon had parked. you weren’t sure if you could say he parked at all, with the way it was practically on the sidewalk. “mammon, why’s your car-?”

“don’t ask, just get in there. i’ll take the stuff over,” he muttered, pushing you gently away before leaning down and grabbing a number of the grocery bags. by the time you had settled into the passenger seat, mammon was back with the second round of items, piling it into his trunk carefully. he headed back again for the remaining few, throwing what couldn’t fit in the trunk onto the backseat. “that would be a lot for even beel, ya know,” he exhaled, getting into the driver's seat next to you. “what else is on that list from my dear, older brother?”

“eh? weren’t you going out somewhere else?” you asked, not wanting to interrupt his day off.

“don’t be stupid,” mammon scoffed. “you nearly died just trying to hold everything.” you opened your mouth to protest, but mammon had his hand covering it before you could utter a word. “no. you look like you haven’t slept in ages so… i’ll take over from here. it’s just errands anyway. you need to get some rest.” mammon wasn’t gentle in his scolding, but the concern in his eyes told another story. “i’m taking you home.”

you pushed his hand away, giving him a hard stare. “i’m coming with you.”

the second born cursed his sin; of course he would let you stay. greed came in the way he never wanted you to leave. the tips of his ears turned pink, admitting defeat before he could. “fine. but you’re sleeping in the car until we get to the next store.”

“mammon, the next store is like, five minutes from here.”

“shut up. i’m taking the scenic route.”

a/n: and so, mammon drove around for an hour instead of taking you directly to the store

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

prompt list here.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x you #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

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weird-is-life · 1 year

Text

Forgetful

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer forgets about your date and you upset

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, use of y/n and pet names

Words: 1.3k Masterlist

A/N: English is not my first language, so please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes

You and Spencer were supposed to go on a date at 7. But as you sat in your apartment, looking at the clock, that showed 8.30, you knew there would be no date.

You called and texted him multiple times, nothing. He didn't respond. You didn't know, what he was doing.

There was no case he needed to fly out to, because he'd have called you, if there was one. You didn't know what else to do, than wipe away the tears at the edges of your cheeks and try to figure out where he was.

You called the first person, that came to your mind, Penelope.

"Hello?"

"H-hi, Penelope. It's y/n..." you said.

"Oh hi pretty, is everything okay?" she quickly responded.

"I just.... I just wanted to ask if you know where Spencer is?" you shamefully asked, you didn't want to bother her with stuff as stupid as that.

"Last time i saw him, he was buried under a pile of paper work. I don't know if he's still here, i'll go look-"

"That's okay, you don't have to go look for him" you said with slightly sad voice.

"Are you sure? Is everything okay-"

"Yeah, t-thanks Penelope" you hung up, before she even got the chance to reply.

You didn't need her to tell you, were he was. You were pretty sure, that he was sat by his desk, studying his files and completely forgot about your date.

It happened before, that he got too caught up in his work, that he forgot about time. He'd been late quite a few times because of it, but never when it involved you.

While you changed from the pretty summer dress, that Spencer loved so much to pyjamas, Penelope marched to Spencer's desk.

"What did you do?" she angrily walked up to him. Spencer lifted his red eyes from the file, he was reading and looked confusedly at her.

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything" he puzzled.

"Why was y/n calling me upset on the phone, asking where you are" she put her hands on her hips and frowned at him.

Realisation struck him like a bolt of lightning, " fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He quickly scrambled to his feet and threw his stuff in his bag, "was she too upset?"

"If crying is too upset for you, then yeah. She definitely was" Penelope glared at him, " i don't know what you did, but you better make it right or i'll-"

Spencer ignored her, he practically bolted out of the room, when he heard, that you were crying. He didn't know, how he was going to apologise to you. The best thing he thought of were flowers, that he bought on the way to you.

When he finally got to the apartment, he found it completely dark, except for one little light coming from the TV. You laid on the couch, head turned away from Spencer, so he couldn’t see you face.

"S-sweetheart?" he softly called out, but you didn't move. You pretended to be asleep, hoping he'd just leave you alone.

But of course, he didn't. He cautiously walked to your side and crouched down to face you. There was no denying, that you were crying. Your cheeks and eyelashes were wet and Spencer felt like crying to.

It pained him to know, that you cried because of him. He felt like the biggest fucking asshole.

"Y/N?" he uncertainly said, hoping you'd just look at him. Your eyes stayed close, but he saw the movement of your closed eyes and knew, you weren't sleeping.

"W-will you just look at me, please?" he pleaded and you let out a silent sob, that you couldn't keep inside anymore.

"Please, j-just leave me a-alone" you groggily said and still didn't spare him a look.

"No" he said, Spencer's eyes started stinging, but he wouldn't leave you.

At that you finally opened your eyes,"what do you mean no?" your face was puffy and your red eyes were looking quizzically at him.

"I mean no, i won't leave you, until we talk" he sat down next to the couch, "you can yell at me all you want, but please don't give me the silent treatment." He desperately looked at you.

"I'm n-not gonna yell at you" you sniffled and Spencer couldn't help it and hesitantly wiped away the tear, that was running down your cheek.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I don't know how it happened... I was reading the files and-and i guess i lost the track of time," he admited with shame, "there's no excuse for missing our date. You have every right to be angry at me. I'm always away and when i'm finally home i forget about our date. I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry, love. I'll leave you alone now if you still want me to, but i j-just wanted you to know how fucking sorry i am."

Spencer's cheeks were wet now, too and he waited for you to say something, anything really, but you only sniffled some more. So he got up and slowly walked away, "I'll sleep in the guest room tonight."

He left you alone with heavy heart and a huge pit in his stomach. He knew how excited you were, when he told you, he was taking you on a date. And he pretty much ruined it.

He absent-mindly took a shower, brushed his teeth and laid down in the cold bed. There was no way the sleep would come, when he knew you were probably crying in the other room and the guilt was eating him alive.

Your sobs stopped a few minutes after he left and you suddenly felt so parched from all the crying. So in your need of some water, you went to the kitchen.

You were almost finished with a second glass of water, when you noticed the big bouquet of roses laying on the counter.

You curiously picked them up and noticed the small card put in between them. There was scrabbled in Spencer's messy handwriting a note, ' I'm so sorry, love. Please forgive me. I love you...'

Your heart melted a bit from it, but stubborn as ever, you didn't go to him and went to the bed instead. And as you laid there, looking at the ceiling, you couldn't fall asleep. Your mind kept running back to Spencer.

It was hard to sleep, when he was away, but it somehow felt worse now, knowing, that he was home, just in another room.

After a few hours, you just gave up. You forgot about being still angry at him and walked to the guest room. You didn't bother knocking on the door, just walked right in.

Spencer probbed himself on his elbows, when he notice the door open and your figure slip in. He immediately switched on the lamp, "Sweetheart, is everything okay?" he asked, a little worried.

"You are an idiot," you stated with a frown and climbed in the bed, "but i can't seem to fall asleep without."

You sat on the covers, looking everywhere but him. " Come here," he gestured for you to get under the covers and you did. You laid next to him and the slight distance between your bodies drove you both crazy.

Spencer broke first," I'm sorry again, baby. I didn't mean to h-hurt you," he let out a long sigh of regret.

One look at his apologetic face and the anger completely vanished, " It's okay, i know, you didn't mean to and i forgive you. I was just really looking forward to it." You gave him a small smile, which Spencer returned right away.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop with the sorrys and if you forget again, i won't talk to you for days" you warned him and he chuckled.

"I'm sorry, baby. I promise to make it up to you" he finally tugged you close to his chest, happy smile on his face.

"You better. You can start by cuddling me all night tonight" you murmured to his chest.

"That will be no problem. I love you so much."

"I love you, too. "

...

Hey guys, thank you for reading. Let me know what you think. Feedback is always appreciated.

Have a great day and stay safe everybody. Peace out ☀️

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader

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bitchlessdino · 1 year

Note

chan- your personal knight/guard. been by your side since what feels like practically forever and has protected you against pretty much everything. You both are close but despite knowing him for so many years and being so close you realise you don’t actually know that much about him so on a walk maybe you’re just asking him random questions about him and learning more about him as a person. Somehow the conversations moved from something like his favourite colour to why he’s not settled down and without missing a beat he’s already answered because of you. Queue a love confession from your knight/guard that you reciprocate.

On a regular basis struggling with cheol and chan rot but today felt fluffy- idk i just think chan would be so sweet as your guard like him being super protective like ‘don’t pick that flower it might be poisonous let me check it’ and it’s like a dandelion or somet 😭

anyways just wanted to leave this with you and express how much I love your work!! I hope you have a good rest of your day or evening and genuinely thank you for taking the time to write on here, i truly appreciate the fact you take time out of your own day to read peoples requests and write whatever comes to mind <33

Pairing: royal!reader x bodyguard!chan

Genre: fluff

Word count: 3.1k

tags: royal au, overprotective chan, yearning, childhood au, love confessions, misunderstandings

author note: I forget how much fun fluff can be and I thought this concept was so cute also to the person requesting. I hope you like it. I love taking requests, including this one and i apprecate your kind words so much. we could all use your positivity. 💕

You remember when you first met Chan. He was the son of the Head of security that would tend to your father's every public and private safety. In a land ruled by a monarchy, these things were just necessary. You’ve been taught about the value you hold simply because of your bloodline and how you were the most precious there is, you must be protected and guarded at all costs. That’s where Chan came in.

He always claimed to be destined to take on a job much like his father, promising to protect you until the end of your days. That was a huge proclamation for an 8-year-old. He carried a wooden sword wherever he went and always had that big goofy smile on his face. It was his life goal to be strong and dependable like his father, and you believed he one day would.

That was the first and last time you saw him until he was officially appointed your personal bodyguard when he turned 18 years old. You were taking etiquette classes and studying scholarly journals of your country’s history, he trained day and night, mastering every possible martial art to exceed expectations as a protector. He was much different when he returned to you, and much stronger as well. He did not disappoint, but the light in his eyes as a child seemed to have faded, leaving a solemn shell of a man who lives to serve his master.

“Chan!”

He responds promptly. He stands by your side in an instant in proper attire, fit for both professional settings and in case he needs to be active, and meets your eyes. “Yes, your highness.”

“Bake with me.”

He blinks, “Your Highness. Would you not rather have the chefs bake something for you if sweets are what you desire?”

You stare back at him pointedly, crossing your arms, “Are you talking back to me?”

His gaze perks up at the accusation, immediately shaking his head, “No, your high—“

You laugh, doubling over at his panicked expression. “Just kidding. I wanted us to bond! No better bonding than creating delectable pastries. No objections.”

“Yes, your highness.”

He was there whenever you needed him. He never told you ‘no’ and he always did what you told him to. All done with a stone face. He took his duty seriously. He was far from who he used to be, which was probably a given, it had been around a decade. That’s when you executed a plan of action to peel away those layers, hoping to find the cute boy that childishly wanted to blindly protect you.

It was over time you saw progress, seeing him smile at every comment or the little mistakes you couldn’t help but make (you swear to him you’re normally more graceful than that) when he thinks you aren’t looking. You loved that: making him laugh. He has a beautiful smile. And the more you spent time with him, the more it feels he knows you, even bringing things you need without you even having to ask, but what was it you know about him?

“Chan.”

Right on the dot as always. “Yes, your highness.”

“Walk around the garden with me.” You take his hand before he can even answer and had him trodding beside you out of the palace.

“Please slow down, your highness.”

You practically dragged him, it was necessary given the Palace’s size.

“There is very little daylight left. We must make the most of our day. This is a royal order!” You playfully command.

“It is 3 pm, your highness!”

“Royal order!”

You walk side by side with him taking in the air, the freshly cut grass, and hearing the birds sing their sweet melody. Calling it a beautiful afternoon was an understatement. Even after living in the place you call home for so long, there is more that surprises you. “Doesn’t the sky look extra blue today, Chan?”

He softly grins. “It does, your highness.”

You turn your head, watching the smile slip out of view, “Speaking of which, what is your favorite color, Chan?”

He thinks for a moment. “Blue, actually, your highness.”

You offer him a wide grin. “That suits you very well. I’m glad I know that. How was it that you’ve protected me for so long and I never knew that?”

Chan is quiet at that, not sure how to answer.

“My favorite color is green, or was it purple?” You cross your arms in thought, a single finger tapping against your cheek, “Last week it was pink.”

“It should be yellow, your highness. You decided to wear the yellow two-piece today.”

You look down at your attire and confirm his statement, seeing the pretty outfit you properly picked out the day before with Chan. You twirl, watching how the sun reflects off the expensive fabric, “You’re right. Looks like you know me better than I know myself again, but of course.”

His eyes fill with concern. “Does that make you uncomfortable, your highness?”

“No. Not necessarily. It just feels very one-sided. You know so much about me, but I feel like I know so little about you.” You skip ahead of him and you hear his footsteps catching up.

“I apologize, your highness. I never believed it was necessary information.”

“Of course, it is. How am I supposed to trust you if I know nothing about you?” You pointed out nonchalantly.

“I apologize again, your highness. This was careless of me.”

You turn around and let him stand beside him and push him ahead, “Nevermind that. What’s your favorite food?”

He stumbles slightly but does not let the matter phase him, used to you treating him much like a companion rather than the help, “Barbeque.”

“Favorite animal?”

“Otters.”

“Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Chocolate.”

“Least favorite thing about me?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah ha–oh.” You tilt your head. “Nothing? Seriously?”

“There is nothing to dislike, your highness, and even if there was, I could not speak out on it. However, there isn’t.”

You blink back at him dubiously, an aggressive finger pointing at his chest, “Are you lying, Chan?”

“Not at all, your highness.”

He would have no reason to lie, you thought. And like he said, if he did, he much rather not answer. You stare at him for a little longer, scanning his frame before simply shrugging and continuing your leisure stroll.

“Hmm, alright. Favorite genre of music?”

“...girl group pop.”

Your eyes widen at that, smiling from ear to ear. “No way! Which group?”

The tips of his ears cause a hue of red, spreading all across his cheeks in an instant. “Apink…”

“Ooo, how refreshing. I would’ve never guessed.”

Chan was relieved to hear such a positive and encouraging response, feeling his hairs falter just a little bit, quite enjoying your company. “It’s very encouraging when I train. They lift my spirits.”

You chortle. “That’s quite endearing of you, Chan. I feel like I’m knowing you way better already.”

“That’s a relief, your highness.”

“What else do you like to do in your free time? You spend most of the day with me, even tend to events with me, but I have no idea what you do for fun?”

He was drawing a blank. What did he do worth mentioning? “Mmm, lots of activities. Such as…”

“Such as?” You egg on.

“Such as–-horseback riding, jousting, martial arts–”

You wave the list off. “Save the pleasantries. I mean real hobbies, ones not instilled by the palace. Things that are actually fun.”

“They are fun, you highness…But I guess I do like dancing.”

You perk up once more, strutting backward to talk while facing him, “Dancing? How lovely! You must show me how you move. This instant!”

He grows flustered, knowing they were still very close to the other guards and staff in the palace. He wasn’t sure he felt about showing off his moves this publicly. “Another time, your highness. I feel rather shy at the moment.”

“Oh, but you must, you must! What do you do? Ballroom? Contemporary? Interpretive–Wha!” You feel yourself trip over a rock, falling backward in slow motion, shutting your eyes for impact, until a strong pair of arms prevent you from collapsing.

“Your highness, are you alright?”

Feeling him pull you against his chest, you stare back into the eyes of your savior. His genuine fright and concern peek through his gaze and he grips your build extra firmly. He instinctively frowns, lips quivering anxiously, sweeping your stray hairs away from your face. You naturally melt in his embrace.

You nod, sighing a breath of relief. “I am fine, Chan. Thank you.”

“Who knows what you could’ve landed on.” His gaze scans over the bed of flowers behind you, vibrant and vivacious, “they could be poisonous for all we know.”

You allow yourself to land back on your feet, turning your gaze on the same bed of flowers. “Those are dandelions.”

Chan feels redder than a tomato in August. How is he constantly embarrassing himself, he thought to himself. “Oh. Well, better safe than sorry. Your Highness.”

You chuckle, infatuated by his thought process. “You truly are something, Lee Chan. Your significant other does not have a boring life with you around.”

“I don’t have a significant other, your highness.”

“That's strange. I’d say you’re at the age to be married or betrothed. Why aren’t you?” You mention, decidedly walking side by side with him.

“Why, my work is the most important thing in my life. I do not have the time to commit myself to someone other than the royal family.”

You raise a brow, “Your father was married and had two kids by your age. If he could do it, I don’t see how you couldn’t.”

“Now, you’re sounding like my mother,” he jokes.

“She is a wise woman.”

He splays a bittersweet smile. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been given a few opportunities, but I don’t believe they can take the place of the person I hold in my heart. No one will.”

You clap your hands together in excitement. “So you are interested in dating? Tell, good sir. Who is the lucky lad or lass?”

“Someone far worthy than I’ll ever be and deserves more than what I can give them.”

You slightly shove him, finding such an assumption doubtful. “Oh please. You’re strong, you’re kind, you’re handsome…anyone would absolutely be ecstatic to have you.”

Chan felt warm all over, taking your words into careful consideration, “Do you truly mean that, your highness?”

“Are you doubting a royal?” You chuckle, “I do. Tell them. I am sure they would happily return your feelings.”

He halts his steps, and you quickly follow, curious about his abrupt actions, “...You ask me why I am still unwedded and untaken. How would you feel if I said you were the reason?”

“No excuses. You can’t use work as an excuse for your lack of love life.” You wag a finger at him.

“Not like that,” He takes your hand in his, bringing it up in mid-air, thumbing over the pristine skin of your knuckles, “How would you feel if I admitted the person I hold dearest to my heart is you, your Highness?”

A gust of wind takes you by surprise, the fallen flowers and leave being picked up with it and fall around you like a picture-esque scene in a movie. Your heart pounds a million times a minute, staring back in awe at his presence, overflowing with love and sincerity, and your eyes flutter from the breathlessness you feel in your chest and throat. You stare at Chan like the first time you were reunited with him, with pure unadulterated infatuation.

“Me, you say? Well, I’d say I was surprised, flabbergasted,…flattered.”

You feel the heat of your cheeks from the back of your free hand. “And inexplicably flustered.”

You release your hand from his grasp, the lingering sensation of his hand on your skin causing you to clench and release, and your heart easily audibly through your eardrums. You look towards the ground, finding it hard to meet your guard’s eyes. “Your choice of humor is rather brass.”

“Your highness–”

“It’s supper time. I must get going. I will see you back at the palace, Chan.”

You make your grand escape, clutching your frills, shielding your face from others in the palace with your arm before heading u to your room. You collapse against the bed, clutching your burning face in a silk pillow, yelling muffled songs of your fluster, reimagining the majestic look on his face when he confessed his feelings. Deep down you knew there was truth in his words, but how could you normally react to something so abrupt from someone so…admirable.

You embrace your pillow, push down your swelling heart, and smile. Tears of bliss fall to your cheeks and you can’t help but kick your feet like an excited schoolgirl.

You find yourself making glances at Chan when you reunite at the dinner. As usual, he does not have dinner with you but he stays by you for your own protection and eats afterward once you’ve finished. He’d look as solemn as he always did in front of other people. He took his job almost too seriously, sometimes even tasting your meal with a separate spoon in case it was poisoned. You used to laugh at his old-fashioned methods of work, there was technology for that sort of thing now, but you finally understand his devotion to his service. There more to meet the eyes, you realize.

When he follows you all the way up to your room for a night's rest, you part ways. You squirm in his presence, his confession fresh in your mind. “Good night, Chan.”

You are ready to run from him until he calls out to you, hesitancy in his voice. You meet his apologetic gaze, regretful of their last close encounter. He wishes you would not see him any differently, that he was simply a lowly guard and protector to you. His feelings towards you would not have changed regardless of your reaction. He knew his place and that was by your side as a human shield.

“Please take no more than a single thought at my confession today. Do not let it diminish my utmost respect and loyalty to the royal family. Have a good slumber, your highness.”

He retreats to his quarters conveniently not too far from your chambers, standing by the door, he gestures for you to enter your room and you obliged, watching his figure disappear behind your door. You fear that the air had changed between you, and perhaps not for the better. Your sleep would be anything but peaceful that night.

“Your highness, Good morning.”

He stands tall and firm with a smile as wide as a river. He holds beside him a fairly large trunk, gripping it by the handle.

You peer at his figure in worry, and earnest fear. “What is this, Chan?”

“I’ve decided to leave the palace forever. I realize my life was being wasted away taking care of someone who could never love me as much as I love them. So, I’ve taken on a lover of the same status.”

As if by magic a common lady appears, taking him by the arm and nuzzling his nose. They look in love, happy, and a sharp pain would shoot through your heart.

“No.” You chant.

“You will never see my face again. Goodbye. Your Highness.”

“Chan, no.”

The image of their silhouette gets smaller and smaller as they walk further away. You fall to your knees in desperation. “Chan please!”

You sob in your sleeves, hands reaching out to their shirking figures until you can only hear the echoes of your pleas.

“CHAN!”

You sit up from your bed, perspiration dampening your forehead and you are flushed to the touch. Clutching your sheets, you sigh a breath of relief that was only a dream. Soon after, your doors swing open, and a panicked guard in his baby blue nighttime attire runs to claim you, “Your Highness. I’m here. I’m here.”

His strong arms wrap tightly around your frame, soothing strokes to your hair, whispering to you it’d be okay. Your hands instinctively hold on to the fabric of his clothes, squeezing the flesh underneath, drinking in his soap’s scent and noticing how pleasant and just to your taste it was. “I know.”

He pulls you away to stare back at you, scanning you for any signs of danger placed upon you.

“I’m okay,” you reassure, “just a bad nightmare.”

“What foul image betrays you to cause such a reaction? I was ready to spar with whatever evil demon tried kidnapping you.”

He must’ve been still asleep, you assume. His colorful vocabulary, wakes you up delightfully.

“I am fine. I promise. Come, I’ll walk you to the door.”

You push him out of bed, meeting the exit, while your guard’s doubts seep out of him like a fountain.

“Are you sure? Was it truly just a nightmare? Do you need new sheets? A snack to soothe you?”

“Not at all, all good, my good sir. Good night.”

You attempt to push him out completely but he holds you back from doing so, gripping the rims of the bedroom door. “I just want to assure you’re okay, your highness.”

You fall a little deep into those eyes, perceiving the truth of his word in them. It drove you insane how a simple confession could affect you this much. You brighten up your world, open your eyes, and made you feel alive, just like a person in love does. “I am. Just…don’t go anywhere. Stay right where you are.”

He gives a confused smile, his gaze softening the same way your tone does. “But your highness, you were just pushing me away a few seconds ago—“

You tug against his shirt and your lips for the first time make contact, his plush surface meeting yours seamlessly. Your hands clasp over his cheeks and neck, languidly moving them against him. You slowly process how he reciprocates, holding you to his chest tenderly, savoring your warmth, taste, and how it all excited him. The thin fabric between your body was the only thing to stop you, and the world around you simply disappeared.

Before you both knew it, you were pulling him back into the bedroom. He’d quickly follow, doesn’t leave until the following morning, carrying out what he only imagined in his dreams, even if it was only for the night. It was the matter of his duty to keep you safe, to keep you happy. And he knew he could make you happy.

#svthub #Dino #seventeen #lee chan fluff #seventeen fluff #dino fluff #dino x reader #seventeen x reader #dino x y/n #dino x you #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen imagines #dino imagines #lee chan x you #lee chan x reader #lee chan fanfic #dino fanfic #seventeen fanfic

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beewolfwrites · 1 year

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for part 2 of the Japanese speaking one, can u do one where reader and chishiya fall for each other and the reader wants to confess to him in Japanese but doesn’t know how and he helps her? ty :)

Language Barrier - Part 2

Since this is a second part for the original prompt, I've kept it also in the AWIAF fic world, but more towards the end.

Hope you enjoy!

(Chishiya x oc/reader)

---------------------------------------------------------

‘You’ve improved.’

Chishiya emerged from the hallway and sat down in the armchair opposite mine. Even in candlelight, the furniture store was cosy and quiet, the perfect place for curling up and studying in a comfy reading chair. With the games suspended after the Ten of Hearts, life in the Borderlands had slowed. On one hand, we were waiting for something to happen at any moment, yet the more days that drifted by, the more we were lulled into a sense of security. Kuina had ventured out earlier to find supplies, leaving Chishiya and I alone in the store.

He had spent most of the evening upstairs, tinkering with a can of orange soda and wires, whilst I focused all my attention on reading out sentences and committing new words to memory. Ever since my first game - Rummy - where I had barely understood the rules being read out, I had been chipping away at the Japanese language, making a note of and practicing phrases I had heard Kuina and Chishiya use. Although I was still laughably bad at it, I was actually quite proud of how far I’d come.

‘ありがとう.’ Thank you, Chishiya.

‘Your pronunciation is clearer too,’ he commented. ‘You’ve stopped blending the words together. I can actually understand what you’re saying.’

I thought for a minute about how I wanted to respond, double checking a certain word in my pocket dictionary. ‘あの缶に何してるの?’ What are you doing with that soda can?

Earlier, I’d briefly seen him connecting it up to a string of wires, but he had worked quietly and avoided divulging any information. I hadn’t wanted to pester him at the time, but I was genuinely curious about his latest project.

‘爆弾を作っている,’ he replied simply. I’m creating a bomb.

‘Wait, really?’

That was definitely not what I thought he was going to say. At all. How did he expect me to react to this? Chishiya didn’t exactly look like a terrorist in the making, nor an angry schoolboy locked up in his bedroom surfing the internet. Seeing Chishiya’s raised brow and lack of response, I quickly realised I had slipped up.

‘本当か’ I corrected myself. ‘どうやって学びましたか’ Really? How did you learn to do that?

‘学んだ,’ he said, simply. ‘学びました is too formal. You’ve never spoken formally with me anyway.’

He explained his answer in quick, fluid Japanese, and although I understood some of the words he’d used, he was running through each sentence far too fast. The words only stood out individually like stars, and I couldn’t quite harpoon them together to form anything coherent. And given the mischief dancing in his expression, he knew exactly what he was doing.

‘I give up,’ I admitted. ‘You’re speaking too fast. And I don’t know half of those words.’

He didn’t admonish me, like I’d expected, but instead simply translated his answer. ‘I taught myself over time, the same way I made that taser. Once you have a grasp of circuits and wiring, you’re already halfway there.’

This would also explain how Chishiya knew how to screw with the wiring in Niragi’s bedside lamps. Either he payed a bizarre amount of attention at school, which I couldn’t see him doing, or he had too much spare time on his hands.

I frowned, flicking through my notes. ‘And you genuinely thought I’d be able to understand all that wire talk?’

‘You never know. It could come in useful in a game.’

I couldn’t argue with that. But in actuality, I did need his help with a certain phrase. There was something I wasn’t quite sure about - it was said differently depending on formality, but as I was still dipping my feet into Japanese culture, I wasn’t quite confident about the difference between each variant and when they should be used.

‘Hey, Chishiya? There’s something I’m not sure how to say.’ I flipped my notes around so that he could read them better, though he simply stared at them with apathy.

‘What is it?’

‘Well… I’m really grateful to Kuina, for being my friend throughout all this craziness,’ I explained carefully. ‘I wanted to tell her that I love her, because I really do. But I didn’t want to use the wrong “I love you”. I know there’s 好き, and there’s 大好き. But this dictionary translates it as 愛している. If Kuina’s my friend, which one do I use?’

Chishiya closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the armchair. ‘Kuina already knows you’re her friend. There’s no need to say it.’

‘But what if I want to?’

‘Then you’d just use 好き or 大好き at the most,’ he said. Half asleep like this, it was uncanny how much he resembled a cat, or even a fox. ‘But you’re not really asking for Kuina’s sake.’

My heart shuddered.

He knows?

I swallowed, nervous that I had been caught out so easily. ‘And if I’m not actually asking for Kuina, which one would I use instead?’

His mouth tilted upwards. That sly, sly man. ‘It depends on how you feel. 愛している is only used in movies.’

‘And you wouldn’t use 好き or 大好き?’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘If you’re a schoolgirl.’

‘And people definitely don’t use 愛している in real life?’

‘Nobody really says these things,’ he replied curtly. ‘It’s too embarrassing for most Japanese people.’

Except I’m not Japanese.

I didn’t reply, muling over each of the three possibilities. One was too mushy and gushy to use in real life. The other two were apparently too simplistic. From what I knew of Japanese society so far, people didn’t usually say these things out loud. Love and affection was something to be expressed in small actions and gestures.

One eye cracked open. ‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘After all that, aren’t you going to say anything?’

Now it was my turn to smirk. ’Only when you’re not expecting it.’

Faintly entertained, he sat up straighter, pulling himself out of his catnap. His small break over, he retreated back upstairs and returned to tinkering with the can. The evening drifted on, and I did try to stay awake in case Kuina returned with goodies. But as the darkness crept in and the candles played magic tricks with shadows on the walls, I sank down into a different darkness altogether, dreaming of sand and chlorine, playing cards and bullets.

In my dream state, I hadn’t realised I was shivering until the softness of a blanket was wrapped around me. A pair of hands gently removed my notebook, pen and dictionary. Barely awake, I slid my eyes open a fraction, registering the silhouette walking away from where I was curled up in the armchair.

‘Chishiya,’ I murmured. ‘もう愛している.’

I love you too.

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #aib

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allwaswell16 · 10 months

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A fic rec of One Direction fics where one or both of the main characters don't realize they're dating or might as well be as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers. You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

▼ Truth or Dare by 2Larry_Stylinson2

(M, 123k, childhood friends) One night, Harry asks Louis to kiss him as "practice", but what was supposed to be a one time thing, just kept happening over and over again, with them going further and further with one another despite being "just friends".

▼ Never Let Me Go by loveisalaserquest17

(E, 55k, 10 Year Plan au) One night, with a little too much alcohol, they make a pact to marry in ten years if they're both still single.

▼ It Had To Be You by @kingsofeverything

(M, 45k, When Harry Met Sally au) Ten years after their post-college road trip, Louis and Harry meet once again, but this time they become friends. Eventually, things get complicated.

▼ I Like You, Say It Back by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry

(E, 43k, a/b/o) the one where it takes a lot of time for Harry and Louis to figure it out. But they do, they always do, don't they?

▼ robbers and cowards by vintagehistories / @adoredontour

(E, 33k, enemies with benefits) a modern day robin hood au where louis and harry (don’t really) hate each other but they hate greedy billionaires more

▼ Have You Coming Back Again by whoknows / @crazyupsetter

(E, 31k, uni au) It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

▼ the evenness i fake by @shimmeringevil

(E, 26k, a/b/o) Harry doesn’t do relationships. He has a perfectly enjoyable friends-with-benefits agreement with a perfectly lovely omega, and he doesn’t see the need to change that anytime soon.

▼ Play the Odds by @alivingfire

(M, 25k, bet) Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins.

▼ Saw It In Your Eyes by @taggiecb

(E, 15k, roommates) the one where Harry is an oblivious walnut.

▼ Rendezvous by Speechless / @smokingluckiesalltheway

(E, 15k, date crashing) Louis hates Harry so much that he likes to sabotage all his dates pretending he is his boyfriend.

▼ in the pub that we met he’s got his arms around you by fearsparks / @onlythebravest

(T, 13k, uni au) Harry's best friend Louis comes to visit him where he attends uni, meets Harry's friends, who point out that they don't know what platonic means.

▼ Waiting by @allwaswell16

(E, 10k, a/b/o) The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

▼ You can remain unaware (if you want) by harryanthus

(NR, 7k, soulmates) the au where soul marks get coloured when they realise they’re in love with their soul mate and Harry has a coloured soul mark, Louis doesn’t.

▼ it's always have and never hold, you began to feel like home by lumineres

(T, 6k, pining Harry) Louis and Harry are best friends, they go for chocolate milk at 2 AM. Shenanigans ensue.

▼ Sweater Weather [L.S.] by appythealpaca

(T, 5k, girl Harry) Harry is Louis's lovely and... that's it.

▼ If I Can't Have You by Janie_17

(T, 2k, misunderstandings) After Harry turns him down, going out for Karaoke is the last thing Louis wants to do, but his friends are persuasive.

▼ sorry for... by stretchmybones / @harryslonecurl

(M, 1k, roommates) How else was Harry supposed to apologize properly? He was indeed a stress baker.

▼ close enough to touch, but I never cared for love by @femstyles

(T, 759 words, oblivious Louis) Louis doesn't want to be in love, but Harry might be on to something.

—Rare Pairs—

▼ Long As There Are Stars Above You by alienharry

(E, 50k, Zayn/Liam) Zayn's just finished his undergrad and is ready to stop messing around with strangers and get more serious about his studies as he prepares for his dream job. No relationships, no sex. Which is harder than it sounds when Liam Payne comes into his life.

▼ The Long Way Round by Anonymous

(E, 18k, Liam/Harry) Liam and Harry aren't dating, honestly, it's just that everybody thinks they are. Everybody, that is, except Liam.

▼ i should ink my skin with your name by crucios

(M, 10k, Harry/Nick Grimshaw) the one where everyone but them knows they're dating

#ficrec #trackinghappily #trackinghome #1dficvillage #tracksintheam #1dsource

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kira-broflovski · 1 year

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Sleepover || Kyle Broflovski x Reader (2)

NOTE: characters are aged up to high school in this!!

Part 3

summary: you only intended to stay for a little bit and study with kyle in order to make it in time to wendy's sleepover, but you simply lost track of time

Kyle felt like he was short-circuiting. From his newfound confidence to the grateful hug you gave him, he just can't believe that really happened.

On the way to his next class, he opened the piece of paper to discover it read "text me" followed by your phone number.

"Fuck yeah!" He yelled out of excitement, not even caring about the weird stares he received.

"Dude, what happened?" Stan's voice called out from behind him. Kyle was too excited to say anything so he simply shoved the little note in his face as he slightly bounced on his feet. "Oh my god. You did it."

"I know!"

"You crazy son of a bitch." Stan was happy for his best friend, despite the lack of enthusiasm in his tone. "You actually got her number."

"I know!" Kyle repeated, practically grinning from ear to ear. "I still need to add it to my contacts."

The boys sat down in their usual seats next to each other while Kyle was hyperfixated on his phone and making sure he typed in the right number.

"What's up with him?"

"Is he okay?"

"Why is he staring at his phone?"

Many classmates were concerned for Kyle as they all noticed he was more jittery and excitable than usual, but the class itself felt like it was going too slow.

Halfway through, his phone buzzed.

"Mr. Broflovski, turn your phone on silent." The strict teacher snapped.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to leave the notifications on." Yes he did.

"Whatever." The teacher turned back to his computer to do more boring work, while Kyle saw this as an opportunity to check the notification.

It was you!

"i forgot to ask, which house are we studying at?"

"mine? my little brother has swimming lessons n my parents are both at work"

"sure :)"

He stared at your last message, immediately imagining the smile that made him feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside.

This was going to be the longest lesson ever.

When the bell rang, he dashed out of his seat so he could be the first one out the school. Obviously, he wasn't. But it's the thought that counts.

You texted him saying you were on your way out, and his heart started pounding in his chest. He pretended to look busy on his phone in case you got weirded out that he was staring from afar.

"Kyle!" You called. He looked up as if he didn't know you were already outside, trying to play it cool.

"Y/N!" He smiled widely back. So much for playing it cool. "Shall we?" He motioned his hand in another direction, the path towards his home.

The two of you were walking in silence, not an awkward one as there was no tension, it was more apprehension. You always wondered what his home looked like, and more specifically, what his bedroom looked like. Is it messy? Or tidy? Does he collect and hoard things? Or did he take the minimalistic approach?

So many questions yet to be answered.

Thankfully, the walk wasn't long. Although, Kyle did take you down the longest path in hopes of spending more time with you.

"Welcome to the Broflovski residence, Miss L/N." He bowed as he opened the door and held it open. "Ladies first."

"Why thank you, Mr. Broflovski." You stepped forward into the surprisingly large house this boy called home.

A stupid grin grew wider on your face because seeing him slowly become his nerdy self around you was heart-warming.

You remember watching him from afar, playing with his friends in whatever imaginary game they could think of. How you wanted to join in so badly. Instead, you wasted your time making meaningless lists with the girls.

"We can go up to my room," Kyle stated, bringing you back to the present. Only to realise what he just said. You didn't say anything and simply raised your eyebrow at him.

When he heard no vocal response he turned around, your facial expression only making him more confused.

"What?"

"Your room, huh?" You couldn't stop the smirk on your lips the same way he couldn't stop his cheeks getting redder and hotter.

"Don't make it weird, dude!"

"Relax, I'm joking."

"H-here, I'll show you up." He hastily made his way up the stairs, signalling for you to follow him.

"What a gentleman," you snickered.

Kyle jokingly groaned in response, which only made you laugh more, but on the inside there were fireworks exploding in his chest. Even the sound of your laughter made him weak in the knees.

Awkwardly, he showed you his room and you pointed out all the photos of him in different situations and with family members or close friends.

"Anyways, I'm gonna go grab us some drinks and snacks then we can get started. Does that sound good with you?" He looked at you for confirmation.

"Yeah, of course!" You beamed that infamous smile of yours, the smile that he just couldn't get enough of.

The next couple of hours went surprisingly quickly thanks to Kyle's intelligence and your perseverance.

Currently, you were both studying independently when a scoff from you broke the silence. Kyle looked up at you slowly, appreciating the moment before you looked at him, as it gave him time to admire your face close up for once.

"These textbook jokes are so stupid," you snorted.

He gestured towards the book, so you turned it around so he could read it. You watched as his eyes scanned the page before his face creased out of second-hand embarrassment for whoever wrote that.

"Oh god."

"I know, right?"

"Who would even find that funny?"

"Probably a try-hard with straight As."

"Probably," he shook his head. He looked back up at you to see your eyes wandering aimlessly around his room. "We should take a break. My hand hurts from this stupid ass book."

"Agreed." You stood up to stretch in front of the window, and that's when you noticed something in the garden.

"Kyle!"

"I'm right here you don't need to yell." The sudden exclamation of his name startled him. "What is it?"

"You have a treehouse?" You pointed outside, marvelling at the mighty fortress that still stood after all these years.

"Yeah?" He stood up and walked over to then follow your finger to where you were pointing. "Why?" He asked as he looked down at you. You were pulling the best doe eyes you could, and Kyle thought he was going to have a heart attack due to how cute you are.

"Do you want to go in it?" He asked, trying so hard to act as if he doesn't want to just kiss you right here right now.

"Can we?" You continued to stare at him.

"What's the magic word?" He decided to tease you as a way of trying to make it even for the teasing he endured earlier.

"Please, Kyle." You clasped your hands together to commit. "Can we please go in your treehouse, Kyle?"

The way you said his name was music to his ears, and it really got his imagination going. It wasn't just his face that had more blood flowing in it than usual.

"Begging, are we?"

He doesn't know where this surge of confidence came from, but seeing you plead for something was so cute yet so hot.

"If that's what it takes," you said, exasperated, and got closer to him. Your faces were inches apart. Both of you were internally freaking out.

He waited a couple seconds, just to savour this moment, before responding.

"Alright, I can't say no when you make that face." He rolled his eyes jokingly before leading the way again.

"I'll keep that in mind." You grinned to yourself.

"I shouldn't have said that."

"It's too late now, Kyle."

"Oh, great."

He knew he wasn't really complaining, if anything he'd love an excuse to just stare into your eyes. Especially if you say his name the same way you just did all the time.

What's going to happen in the treehouse?

----

note: I'll write part 3 ASAP. this was only meant to be a 2 part story, but I got carried away in both 😭 the wattpad author I used to be is still me ig

currently writing from my break at work, hope you guys enjoyed!!

taglist: @weridpersonhelp

#kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #south park #south park x y/n #south park fanfiction #fluff #eric cartman #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #sleepover ♡

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