#something more silly between ANGST TRAIN

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Three

☒ Summary: Vox was getting too attached to you. You should have noticed it sooner when he began treating you with more consideration than anyone else. But you assumed it was all an act. You were sorely mistaken. You hoped that Alastor had a plan to get you out of this arrangement. 

☒ Warnings: wife!reader, she/her pronouns used, angst with slight comfort, strong hints of vox being in love with the reader, vox kisses reader on the forehead, alastor and the reader actually kiss and hug, lucifer is silly in this, jealous!alastor, reader expierencing a lot of conflicting emotions, lots of inner turmoil

☒ Word Count: 2,166

The ride back to Vox Tec Headquarters was quiet. However, Vox held onto you tightly the whole ride home.

Home? Is that what you consider this godforsaken place now? 

You lost your way, and seeing your husband tonight after several years reminded you of what once was your home. 

"Who" your home was; Alastor.

But that resentment you had for him still lingered in your heart. 

It would be a lie if you said you hadn't gotten accustomed to Vox's company. Even now, he helped you out of the car. Holding your hand tightly all the way up to your bedroom. Vox was a gentleman when it came to you. He respected your privacy, turning his back while you changed into something more comfortable. But he was also possessive, and that struck fear within you.

He was soft-spoken while he tucked you into your bed. The same bed that Vox picked out specifically for you. He knew what colors, what patterns, and what textures you liked. Taking it all into account when he bought you your blankets and clothing and accessories.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Vox cooed, rubbing your arm softly. He sat at the side of your bed, eyes locked with yours. You tensed from his touch. The conflict between appreciating his gentle caress and knowing it was wrong to feel that way made guilt pool in your gut. 

"I'm fine," You lied, averting your gaze from his. Vox's touch trailed lower, giving your hand a firm squeeze before he stood. "It's been a long day for you. Try to get some rest." He spoke calmly. Turning his back toward you before making his way to your bedroom door. 

"V-Vox," You called out, stopping him in his tracks before he could take his leave. "Yes, sweetheart?" He turned to face you, offering you a welcoming smile. You balled the duvet up in your hand. The same one the man standing before you hand-picked for you. "Thank you for respecting my wishes today." You whispered before turning on your side. Not wanting to see Vox's expression to your earnest words. 

The room was silent for a few beats. Making you feel as though Vox was seeing right through your lies. Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you squeezed your eyes shut. Hoping that he would either reply or take his leave already. Your train of thought was cut off when you felt a set of lips press against your forehead. Vox's lips. 

"Anything for you, sweetheart." Before you could process the kiss Vox gave you, he was gone. You turned around the moment your bedroom door closed shut. 

Fuck. You were in deep shit. 

Vox was getting too attached to you. You should have noticed it sooner when he began treating you with more consideration than anyone else. But you assumed it was all an act. You were sorely mistaken. 

You hoped that Alastor had a plan to get you out of this arrangement. 

Alastor paced around his suite, wracking his brain on how to free you of your contract. Being on a leash himself kept him constricted in some ways, but there had to be a loophole. The Radio Demon tried to keep his composure, but knowing that his beloved wife had been confined by Vox, of all people, was unacceptable.

He never thought you would fall prey to someone as pitiful as Vox. But Alastor also knew that his vanishing without a word didn’t leave you with many options. He ached for you, truly. The Radio Demon loved you with everything he had. Even the parts of himself that never saw the light of day. Alastor’s deepest thoughts and emotions were all reserved for you.

“Hey Alastor, you in here?” The door swung open quicker than The Radio Demon could see. Alastor quickly straightened upright, clearing his throat before addressing The Princess of Hell. Who just so happened to barge into his room. “What is it?” Alastor beamed painfully wide as his patience wore thinner by the second. He didn’t have time for Hotel duties at the moment. You were his top priority.

“Sorry to barge in, but... my dad is here! Just wanted to keep you in the loop!” Charlie exited without another word. She sensed an air of malice and wanted no part of it. Alastor was a feared overlord, and she retained a handful of horror stories about The Radio Demon himself.

A lightbulb went off in his head. This was perfect- Lucifer was the answer to breaking your contract with Vox. All he would have to do was get on The King of Hell’s good side. Alastor let his shadows carry him to the foyer, being met by the sight of none other than Lucifer himself. “Uh, Charlie! Who is this?” The short man shot Alastor a pointed look. “Alastor! It’s a pleasure, quite a pleasure indeed!” The Radio Demon shook Lucifer’s hand firmly. Biting back the insults he wanted to utter due to The King of Hell’s stature. Opting to play nice for the sake of your soul.

“Yeah, uh- good to meet you. Anyway, Charlie mentioned something about a tour, so we must be going!” Lucifer’s tone was passive and short. Alastor knew it would take a bit more false kindness to get on his good side. “Oh, allow me! I am the executive producer of this lovely hotel, after all!” Charlie smiled widely, finding it flattering that Alastor cared enough about the hotel to offer his services. Little did she know that he had ulterior motives. “Aww, that’s a great idea! Thank you, Alastor. I’ll leave you both to it!”

Lucifer stuttered as he tried to find the words to protest. But it was too late. Charlie was already enamored in a conversation with Vaggie. “Come along!” Alastor’s smile grew wide as Lucifer treaded behind him. The moment they reached the second floor, Alastor spun around. Meeting Lucifer at eye level. “Let me cut to the chase! I have a favor to ask of you, Luci!” The Radio Demon quipped. “I knew there was something off about you. Well, cmon spit it out. I came here for my daughter! I don't wish to waste my precious time with common demons such as yourself.”

Alastor contemplated biting his tongue off at that moment because the words that threatened to tumble out of his mouth were way beyond foul. But instead, he took a breath, reminding himself of the greater good. “I’m glad you mentioned your darling daughter, Charlie! You see, she and I made a little deal of sorts! I would be willing to forfeit our contract in exchange for another contract being terminated!” The Radio Demon was bluffing, but he was sure the fool would buy it. Lucifer’s chest puffed up in defense. Alastor could see the wheels turning in his head as The King of Hell contemplated the trade. “Lemme guess, you got yourself in a bad contract and need some help getting out of it?” Alastor’s laughter filled the hallway from the remark. Not even Lucifer himself could get Alastor out of his deal, but that was beside the point.

“Oh heavens, no! This is about my wife. She sold her soul to one of the Vees. I need that deal to be reversed! So, do we have a deal?” Alastor outstretched his hand. Hoping that Lucifer would shake it without further delay. “The who now? The Bees? Fine, fine. I don’t really care as long as my Char Char is out of harm's way. You got yourself a deal, Malastor!” Alastor cringed at Lucifer’s lack of awareness. He was truly in his own world. But that worked to The Radio Demon’s advantage. So it didn’t really matter either which way. “Lovely!” With that, the two men shook on it. Sealing their deal. Alastor chuckled under his breath from how easy that had been. Lucifer was a common idiot. No wonder the state of hell was in shambles, he thought.

But with the King of Hell under contract with him, it was only a matter of time until you were back in Alastor’s arms. He would make sure of that.

A cool gust of wind stirred you awake. It was nearly three in the morning when you heard someone calling for you. The radio static laced Alastor's voice as he spoke your name. Surely you were still dreaming, right? 

"Don't be alarmed, my dear! It's only me." Alastor sat atop your bed. The same way Vox had earlier. His long fingers played with a strand of your hair, pushing it out of your face as he gazed upon you. "How did you get in here?" You nervously whispered. Slowly, you sat upright, grabbing ahold of your husband's face. His cold flesh meshed well against your warm hands. He really was here. 

"I have my ways!" Alastor quipped, leaning forward to capture your lips with his. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you melted against him. Oh, how you missed his touch. Seven years was far too long without him and hurt feelings aside, you loved this man with your entire being. "My love, if you get caught-" You whispered against his lips, but Alastor simply silenced you by stealing another kiss. 

"Nonsense! It's nothing I can't handle! Don't worry your pretty little head, I have an infallible plan to get you out of your contract with Vox." Excitement surged through you from the good news. "Really? That's amazing!" You beamed, wrapping your arms around Alastor's neck. Hugging him as tightly as possible. Your husband relaxed under your touch. Allowing himself to enjoy this long-awaited moment with you.

"I need you to hold out for a bit longer, my dear. Can you do that for me?" Alastor whispered into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back with the pads of his thumbs. You nodded fervently. Whatever it would take, you would endure. "Yes," You sighed a breath of relief. Freedom was nearly within your reach. It was only a matter of time. Suddenly, a knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. 

"Sweetheart? Are you awake?" 

Fuck, it was Vox. 

You frantically pulled away from Alastor's embrace. Presenting him with a frightened look. "Go, now!" You nervously hushed, giving him one last kiss before he stood. Alastor's classic grin remained, but his eyes were full of remorse for you. He hated to leave you here like this, but there was no other way. Just a little bit longer. Alastor whispered a small "I love you" before his shadows enveloped him. Whisking The Radio Demon away right in the nick of time.

Moments later, your door swung open. Revealing a worrisome Vox. "Sweetheart, why didn't you answer me?" He quickly made his way to your side. His slender fingers grasped your chin. Vox tilted your head every which way, scanning for any abnormalities. "I-I'm sorry! I had a nightmare... so I was still pretty out of it when I heard your voice." You lied. Trying your hardest to force a smile his way. Vox's expression softened from your confession. 

"You see, this is why I insisted on installing cameras in your room. I would be able to get here sooner at times like this." Vox sighed, pulling you into his chest. His arms enveloped your waist. "No cameras in here, you promised..." You mumbled into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his frame loosely. If you were entirely unresponsive, Vox would know you were being furtive. So you played your part. Whatever it would take, right?

"I did promise. You're right, sweetheart. But the offer still stands." Vox squeezed you tighter. The embrace bordered the lines of discomfort from how he held onto you. All you could do was nod against him, hoping he would release you sooner rather than later. "I-I know, thank you." It felt like pulling teeth, forcing out those words. Slowly, Vox pulled away. He gently pressed your shoulders down before tucking you back into bed. 

"Try to get some more rest. It's still early, sweetheart. If you have another nightmare, just call out to me. I'll be here." Vox pressed another kiss to your forehead before standing up. He walked over to the chair that resided in the corner of your room. Vox made himself comfortable, gaze never once faltering from you. You squeezed your eyes closed. Forcing yourself to doze off despite the pressure you felt from his watchful gaze. 

Alastor had remained outside your bedroom window. Overhearing your and Vox's entire conversation. His blood was boiling. Is this what you've had to endure for all these years? Alastor clawed at the side of the building right beside your window. His anger was only building the more he replayed the air of discomfort you illuded. Vox made a grave mistake thinking he could win you over.

You were his wife, and he would remind Vox of that fact. It was only a matter of time. 

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor angst #alastor hazbin hotel #vox x reader x alastor #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel vox

[lilyarchived]

behind closed doors [simon "ghost" riley]

a/n: URGH this idea literally came from a silly twitter picture, PLEASE SEND ASKS YOU CAN SEE HOW DESPERATE I AM FOR IDEAS!! Also thank you for the love on my first post, you guys are awesome!

warnings: gn! reader, reader has a breakdown, jealousy, cursing, angst (to fluff), 0.7k words.

summary: you overheard a conversation that included you, and it wasn't a positive talk.

"Ghost, please. leave me alone." you whimper as you walk away from your lieutenant just following behind you. “Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.” he replies in that same old gruff voice since the day you met. 

You were wandering through the base, having done all the tasks Price had assigned ya. Hearing a familiar deep voice in one of the rooms, you were about to enter but a flash of hesitation hit you once you heard your name. “[mumbled] and what [scrambled] about [scrambled] [Y/N]?” muttered soap, his voice an unserious tone. You gulp, wondering if the context was negative or positive. “What about them?” your heart drops, did he really think nothing of you? Of course not, you were overthinking, you assure yourself this was just ghost being ghost. “I don’t mean to pry ya, lad. Don’t you and [mumbled] have something going on?” your smile reappears after soap’s suspicion. You were about to burst in, smiling, before hearing ghost’s voice once more. “What? No. There was never ‘anything’ between us.”

 Oh. Oh.  tears blur your vision before hearing soap say “Ah. So you’re pretty serious about this partner you’ve been talking to, huh?” running away before your heart shatters even more.

“Don’t bullshit me ghost. I heard you in there with soap.” you finally turn around once you’re out in the training field, only this time it was empty. You’ve never seen it this empty. What a strange sight. You bring your hands up to your head, fuzzying your hair as you scoff and fold your arms, waiting for ghost to respond. He just looks at you with those same deadpanned eyes, only this time it was laced with a confused look. “What?” he voices in a hushed manner.

 You could only fall to the rough ground as you broke down in an out-of-breath manner. Hearing Simon's footstep’s rummage through and leveling with you to hold you in his arms, his grasp tight as he hushes your cries.

“[Y/N], did you get those files i asked yo-” he barely got to finish his sentence before you dropped them at his hands and began to make your way out. “Gotta go, I'll see you later, gaz.” you utter, quickly shutting the door behind you. “What’s up with them?” ghost asked gaz, eyes wide with how the normally-clingy [Y/N] was now being avoidant. “You cannot be that fucking stupid.” gaz remarked. “What?” ghost asked, voice slightly raised now. Gaz scoffs, “you shit talked them to soap, you think they wouldn’t find out?” he added. “I never said anythi- fuck. I wasn’t-” gaz just raised an eyebrow, letting his lieutenant explain himself. “I was telling soap how much i like them.” gaz drops his pen, clearly intrigued now. “Go after them, dumbass!” he yells, and ghost bolts outside, in search of you.

And now here you were, in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. ‘How pathetic.’ you think. “Do I mean nothing to you? All those nights, those- stupid breaks I spent with you, getting to know you, nothing?” Ghost’s heart aches as he hears your broken voice, feeling immense guilt creep up. “[Y/N], I was telling soap how I wanted to be with you.” your sobs quiet down, trying to process what he just said. “There’s no one else?” you whisper, silent cries slipping.

What really happened was, “really? And what about that chick you were talking to, Sarah? still want [Y/N]?” – “I don’t mean to pry ya, lad. Don’t you and Sarah have something going on?”

Oh. he was denying ever having ‘something’ with a different girl. It all seems foolishly funny now. You laugh through your tear stained cheeks as you punch Ghost on the chest playfully. "you scared me." your voice softer than before, if that were even possible. “It’s you, it’s always been you.” he explained, in that same old gruff voice since the day you met. Only this time, it held more emotion than ever.

#rbn writes #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod

[nicxl333]

could you do a part 2 of bllk boys accidentally hurting their partner bu with a good ending please.

My stomach wouldn't be able to handle mor angst(⁠T⁠T⁠)

BABY YOU SOLD ME A DREAM PT.2

thanks for the req anon, i think you’re doing everyone a favour here by asking for this because whew! i was ready to dropkick a mf from writing pt.1 lmao

also if you’re here by chance it’s probably best if you read pt.1 for context before you read pt.2 | :3

characters: isagi yoichi, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, barou shoei, itoshi rin

content: overwhelming fluff, slight angst, major angst (in rin and barou’s part), reader is female coded (the term ‘girlfriend ‘ is used)

tags: @kaiserkisser @silly-ez @scaramouchemyloveee @mariyumemi @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @hsxhype @aquamarine001 @nxgiswife @hanagoromo-roses

☆彡 ISAGI YOICHI

two weeks. two long, monotonous weeks spent without isagi. yes bachira did his very best to make sure you were comfortable with him, but you missed isagi so damn much.

it wasn’t only difficult for you though, bachira was trapped in a bad position. due to him being a friend of both you and isagi, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. while it was evident that isagi had fucked you over badly, being in a team with isagi and having him as a bestfriend didn’t make things better. he couldn’t just pick a side and be done with it.

unbeknownst to you though, isagi asked bachira multiple times each day about how you were doing. after some self reflection, he realised just how wrong he was for treating you that way. especially since people like you nowadays are hard to come by. someone so nurturing, caring and full of love and devotion for their s/o was quite the rarity to find. and to think he nearly lost all of that with just a few words. really opened up his perspective of things. he wanted to do better. for you and himself.

and so, he cut down his training times, making more time for himself to wind down from daily intensive workouts. he thought of words to say to you, to make it known to you that he was aware where he went wrong and was taking responsibility for his actions.

he also went shopping, to buy you a multitude of gifts. clothes, jewellery, trainers and heels, perfumes, trinkets. you name it, he bought it. it all cost him a hand and a foot, but he didn’t mind, he would do it 100 times over for you. (we should remember this man is a professional footballer, he’s got dough.) once home, he placed all the gifts on the coffee table in the living room, having to put some on the floor due to the sheer amount he bought, ready to take them to bachira’s tomorrow.

little did he know he wouldn’t have to make the commute.

you had said your goodbyes to bachira that same day, thanking him for taking you in for so long with a big bear hug, to which he returned with just as much (platonic) love as you had shown him. you placed your bag in the backseat of your car, turning on the ignition and beginning the drive back home.

as the roads whizzed by you on the highway, so did the thoughts in your head. you were very nervous to have to talk to isagi again, to have to recall exactly what happened that night. glancing at the time on the dashboard, you drew the conclusion that isagi should be training right now, which would at least give you time to prepare before he got back.

as you pulled up to the apartment complex, the first thing you noticed was that isagi’s car was there, in his usual spot next to yours.

‘he’s home?’

surely not, maybe he just hitched a ride or something. although that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. there would be no reason why isagi would skip his evening trainings, not that you could think of anyways. even after joint practice with his team he would then further push himself to do his own training, polishing up on his skills. so to think he’s potentially broken that pattern confused you.

after parking your car and collecting your things you made your way to your front door, unlocking it and venturing in. once you placed your keys on the side table and took off your shoes, you walked into the empty living room, ultimately puzzled when you noticed the coffee table filled to the brim with bags from your favourite places.

“yoichi? you there?”

nothing.

you therefore assumed he was out, deciding to take a closer look at the bags. inside, everything you had ever bought for yourself or displayed interest in while out with isagi lay in each bag. even things that you didn’t have, but wanted, were present.

he remembered.

your eyes immediately welled with tears of appreciation, head snapping to your bedroom door when you heard it open, isagi’s figure stepping out. you immediately jolted, not expecting him to actually be here, even though you didn’t actually take the time to look and see properly.

“shit! y/n, you’re back? wait, why’re you crying?”

in an instant he crossed the distance to you, wiping the tears away once he assessed and evaluated that you were not hurt.

“uh— sorry. i should’ve asked you first. is this okay?” he quizzed, holding the sides of your face tenderly. you nodded, leaning into his touch.

“are these for me yoichi?” you looked into his cobalt blue eyes. one hand left your cheek, rubbing at the skin behind his neck, suddenly feeling shy.

“erm…yes. yes they are. i wasn’t expecting you back though, i was gonna surprise you tomorrow. ” he pulled you towards the sofa, sitting you down and looking deep into your (e/c) eyes.

“look y/n, i know materialism doesn’t take away what i did to you, but i want you to know just how sorry i am. you didn’t deserve how i treated you. not two weeks ago or months before. i made you feel lonely, i put football before you. when you needed me, i shut you out. and i take full accountability for that. words couldn’t describe just how badly i’m in love with you and how crazy you make me feel. i couldn’t bear to lose that forever. hell, these two weeks without you have tormented me enough. a lifetime without you would finish me off for good.”

you listened to him speak every word, touched that he would say such soothing words to you. yes, you did expect him to apologise, but not to go above and beyond to show his willingness to change.

your nose started flaring, the sting of your eyes warning that you were about to cry again.

feeling uncomfortable with your silence, isagi pressed you slightly.

“y/n? are you— are you oka-”

you cut him off by pouncing on him, engulfing him in a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him like it was your last.

“i’m yours yoichi. always and forever.”

☆彡 MIKAGE REO

you woke up in the same hotel room you cried yourself to sleep in. throat dry, head pulsating and heart wounded. you needed some form of rejuvenation, but, considering you didn’t have any clothes on you, seemed hard to achieve.

you reached for your phone, shocked when you saw 20 missed calls and 46 messages from the very same person who caused you anguish in the first place. opening the message app you see the most recent messages being sent at around 5am.

“y/n, where are you?”

“y/n please answer the phone!”

“are you safe at least, i’m worried about you.”

“i just wanna know if you’re okay, we need to talk.”

“y/n?”

“y/n please, im starting to worry, just send me a text, or something. let me know you’re okay.”

although you were beyond pissed at the guy, he was concerned for your safety, and to make him worry for you like that shouldn’t have to be something anyone should experience.

you sent him a quick, straightforward response.

“i’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”

the read receipt came as quickly as you sent it, a bubble popping up, signaling that reo was typing. however, after a few moments, it disappeared altogether, leaving your message standing alone.

you sighed, deciding that the least you could do was shower, feeling clammy and, simply put, dirty.

luckily, your job was well paying so you were able to book a lavish en-suite hotel room, although you didn’t pay attention to that much last night, willing to go just about anywhere as long as it weren’t near reo. inside the bathroom lay exquisite amenities, top branded shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, along with oils and different expensive face care products. an unopened toothbrush pack also was present on the bathroom counter, with toothpaste alongside it. and by the full glass shower itself stood a towel and robe on the hanging rack.

it weren’t exactly clothes, but it was a start. better than staying in your dress the whole day. while you waited for the shower water to warm you looked at yourself in the mirror, cringing at how dishevelled your figure was. your cheeks were tear stained, causing your mascara to run, your lips had smeared lipstick still present, and your hair? let’s not even go there. you looked a hot mess, physical evidence of your current mood.

once heated to a substantial temperature you stepped into the shower, revelling at how that warm water melted into your skin. you made good work of scrubbing down your skin, leaving no traces of any events that may have transpired the day before.

soon enough you finished up your shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel round your figure, feeling refreshed, but still incomplete. you brushed your teeth next, trying to avoid letting your thoughts go off topic from the current task at hand.

just as you were walking into the room itself to look for moisturiser, you heard a knock at the door. it confused you to the core. no one actually knew your whereabouts so you couldn’t rack your brain to guess who it could be. you ventured close to the door, looking through the peephole and visibly relaxing once you saw a hotel worker standing, waiting.

“hello?”

“ah, good morning miss y/n, i have a bag here requested to be brought to you.”

if you weren’t confused before, you were bewildered now. this meant that someone hand to have known where’d you were, but how? only one way to find out.

“requested by who, might i ask?”

“mr…mikage reo?”

what the actual hell. you were well and truly silenced by the revelation. more importantly, it’s quite amazing how he managed to find your location with such haste. although it shouldn’t really surprise you so much, considering he probably had connections due to his status. it made you wonder just what exactly he brought to you.

“erm ma’am?”

you cracked the door open, seeing one of reo’s duffel bags stuffed to the brim. the hotel worker held it out for you to take, bowing then turning to leave immediately after. you carried the heavy bag through the room, placing it on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

you stood for a second, debating whether you should open it or not. curiosity got the better of you though, and you unzipped the bag, stalling when you realised it was a bag of clothes for you, as well as the moisturiser you use, some makeup products and your favourite trainers. it’s like he somehow knew you would need clothes, probably since you didn’t return home last night.

taking the clothes from the bag you realised he packed you one of your favourite hoodies, his own hoodie.

after moisturising yourself you started to put the clothes on, feeling slightly better about yourself. you looked into your makeup bag, seeing some of your basic everyday skin and hair products, as well as your everyday perfume, feeling grateful that reo at least paid attention enough to know what you liked and used.

just as you had finished your skincare routine you heard another lock at the door, wondering who it could be at this time. you got up and crossed your way to the door, looking through the peephole and freezing.

your boyfriend, reo stood at the door, looking around nervously.

you gauged your options for a moment, reaching an ultimatum with yourself that you couldn’t avoid him forever. you opened the door fully, stepping to the side for him to walk in, which he did, stepping meticulously and with precaution, while you closed the door behind him.

all was silent for a moment, neither party knowing what to say to the other, a million thoughts rushing through the room. the tension was taut, the air thick, and awkwardness seeping in.

you collected yourself, deciding to start it off.

“thanks for the clothes, i appreciate it.”

“it’s…the least i could do, considering how i treated you.” he said, simultaneously biting down on his lip.

“yeah.”

he moved closer towards you, looking at your expression to see if he was crossing boundaries at any point.

“y/n.” you looked at him with apprehension, worried about what may fly out of his mouth next. “i want you to know that what happened last night, was entirely my fault. i need you to understand that.”

you frowned with sadness displayed on your face. yes he may be owning up to his actions, but that didn’t explain why he said what he said. especially if he could say something of that degree to you with such ease. it sounded like he meant every word.

becoming slightly anxious from your silence, he continued on.

“i made you it sound like you were inadequate or you were lower than me because i have money. i know it sounds bad, but y/n, it’s really the opposite. you don’t look at me for my background, you look at me for who i am as a person. you make me feel normal. make me feel like i can be myself around you. i don’t have to keep myself guarded around you and i appreciate you so much for it. i guess that’s why i spoke out of turn to you like that last night. because you’re probably the only person who can actually knock me down a peg. and having nagi hear that made me scared. scared because i was vulnerable in front of him. of course, i’m not excusing my actions, and i’m not asking for forgiveness, i just want you to know i’m sorry.”

you nodded slowly in understanding, looking at the way he subconsciously tugged on a piece of his violet tresses. he left his hair down today. you loved it when his hair was down. he knew that.

“i hear you reo, but that’s not the only issue. this whole problem stemmed from the fact that you spend too much time with nagi. i don’t wanna be the girlfriend that prohibits you from spending time with your friends, that’s not who i am, but when you’re with nagi so much that it makes you forget important dates, that’s when it becomes a problem. especially when you then make it out to be like i’m the problem. no one is saying you can’t be around him, but have a backbone please. he’s always there reo. sometimes i just want you to myself, is that too much to ask for?”

he realised where he went wrong, casting you aside for the sake of nagi, which wasn’t cool. and he didn’t want to lose you. you were too good to him and he felt so strongly about you. anything you asked for could never be too much, not to him.

and so, he stepped closer to you still, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you around, relishing in the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, both for stabilisation and comfort.

“no baby, it’s never too much. not when it comes to you.”

you squeezed him tighter, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck and smiling.

“i don’t like it when we fight reo, i love you too much for that.”

“i love you too y/n,” he placed you down gently on the bed, laying you back and caging you in with both arms, his hair hanging directly over your face. “so…we’re gonna go back home and i want you to pack your bags. we’re going to mykonos for the week to celebrate our anniversary together.”

you straightened up, wondering where this was all coming from.

“huh? reo, you’re forgetting something? you may be off season right now but i still have work.”

“not for the next two weeks, i pulled some strings so now you have paid time off, which, gives you more time with your favourite man.”

you chuckled at his revelation, knowing he definitely used his power to threaten your manager. reo could be so demanding at times.

“speaking of which, do you know where he is?” his face immediately darkened at that.

“wanna repeat that?”

“nope!”

☆彡 NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi was in a state. it had only been 4 days since you broke up with him, but that was 4 days too long for him. it wasn’t actually until you broke it off with him and it sunk in that you were gone, that it really registered for him.

he missed you.

it made him realise, as much as he hated being bothered…he didn’t mind if it were you. he really did enjoy spending time with you. especially when cuddling. your figure was so soft, a perfect cushion for him to lay on as he slept. you would play with his hair so gently, lulling him to sleep. and you were really pretty.

the apartment just seemed all the more empty without you. yes, he did live alone pre blue lock a few years back, but having you live with him made him get used to having someone around. he grew comfortable and accustomed to it. so much so that it felt lonely when you left.

you had temporarily went back to your parents house while you looked for a new place to live. you had a few items of miscellaneous clothing left behind in your room, but you had ran out, thus needing the majority of your stuff, which you had left back at nagi’s.

you left off, with the promise to your parents that you’d be back soon.

the engine hummed as you drove back, playing your playlist on a high volume, hoping to drown out the thoughts spiralling in your head, although it did little to silence them.

you didn’t plan a time to leave out, but realised that you had coincidentally headed out at the same time nagi would be home, a meeting inevitable. oh well. had to happen at some point. you planned on a quick and brisk pit stop, hoping to minimise interaction with him as much as possible.

you pulled up to the apartment complex, walking through the lobby, swiping your keycard and pressing the lift to go to the penthouse.

in no time you reached the top, the lift doors opening. you stepped out and pushed your key into the lock, opening the door as silently as you could, walking in and shutting it with a click.

yes, you may have been moving around like a teenager after a forbidden night out, but you would much rather that than have to be further insulted by nagi, should he catch you.

alas, things cannot always go smoothly in life, for nagi had heard you, stepping out of the bedroom, shirtless with loosely hanging shorts, evidently having just woken up from a nap.

he instantly stopped, rubbing his eyes to see if he was tweaking or not. yet, you stood there, trying to disappear in that moment.

“y/n…you’re here.”

“only to get my things nagi, i’ll be out of your hair in around half an hour.”

nagi. his own name turned his mood sour. he’d much rather you call him by his actual name, or sei, not his last. and you knew that fact very well, making sure he knew damn well you were serious.

you begun to hurriedly walk towards the bedroom, where he was standing by the door, attempting to walk past him as quickly as possible. he intervened however, stepping about halfway into the door so that you were now directly in front of him and couldn’t get past, unless you spoke to him.

“are you really leaving y/n?”

“it’s l/n to you nagi, and yes. you don’t get to say something like that to me and think we’ll be cool after. it’s fucked up.”

you turned so he couldn’t see you, tears beginning to form at the painful recollection of what occurred a few days ago. you didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, for the fear of bursting into tears held you back.

“please don’t leave me y/n, i can do better, i promise. i regret what i said. really badly. i’m— i’m sorry.”

you knew that nagi didn’t like talking as it is (he referred to it as a hassle), so to have him trying to at least communicate with you did mean something. not enough to satiate you though.

“y/n?”

when you didn’t say anything back he lightly tugged your hand and turned you around, eyes widening once he saw tears streaming down your face.

he attempted to console you, wanting to pull you into a hug, but drawing back when you lightly pushed him off you.

“y/n- what’s wrong?”

“i can’t sei, i’m scared. scared you’ll grow bored of me. i don’t know if i’m bothering you or not and it kills me to think that you’d spend more time on games than with me. you basically told me i’m a hassle. how the hell else am i supposed to take that?”

your tears wouldn’t stop pouring down no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, sniffles loud and clear as day.

something unusual happened to nagi as he watched you cry your eyes out. he felt his heart breaking into tiny shards at your state. more so because he knew it was because of him. he didn’t want to be the cause of your pain. he didn’t want to see you like this, experiencing such distress.

he wrapped his arms around you, one hand shielding your head and pulling your face into his bare chest, where you sobbed some more, letting up all the feelings built up from days prior.

“you’re not a hassle y/n. i said that out of turn. you could never be a hassle to me. while you were gone, i couldn’t even play my games properly. i just slept and trained because i missed you so much and didn’t know what to do without you. i know i’m lazy, and i know i don’t make you feel loved enough, but i do. i love you. i’ll do better for you and i don’t wanna be the reason why you’re upset. so please stop crying, wanna see your pretty face smile for me.”

you smiled into his chest, your sniffles beginning to subside and still.

“thank you sei, i really needed to hear that.”

“i would say it over 100 times for you. it might take a while but i won’t get bored of it. not when it comes to you.”

you wrapped your arms around his broad figure, squeezing tightly.

“will you be my girlfriend again y/n? no one else can reach your level. not now, not ever.”

you let go of his body, instead placing your palms on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“of course i will seishiro.”

“good, because i wanna cuddle with my girlfriend.”

☆彡 BAROU SHOUEI

it had been 2 months since you broke up with barou and he was miserable. who would’ve thought you leaving would cause such a rift in his life? his performance in matches were shit, he became pissed off at people more easily, and he was benched more often.

due to him not having someone to talk to, he essentially had no form of a wind down from football, something you were able to give him while you were together. something he had come to miss, and wished he appreciated more.

the lack of your items in the house made your departure all the more apparent. your decorations and items around the apartment were what made the house a home.

and you as a person? what wasn’t to like about you? you were a very levelheaded but gentle person, a great contrast to his fiery, angry personality. you catered to his every need, be it mentally, physically or sexually. your voice was what carried him through his day, soothing him to the bone, calming him down when he needed it. the more he thought about it, the more he realised he made a grave mistake pushing you out. the more he realised just how much he was attached to you, he was just unwilling to acknowledge it.

barou was no pussy, and he had enough of living like this, living without you, so he decided to get you back (and not fuck up this time).

he knew you were most likely staying at your childhood friend, chigiri’s house. he knew him very well, having done the blue lock training program with him years back, and played against him in several matches. he knew where he lived, having gone to parties held at his house through mutual connections.

and so, after practice, he grabbed his car keys and set off. he weren’t good with words, so his mind stayed scrambled as he thought of all the things he could say to you. while he couldn’t think of specific sentences to say to you, his goal remained the same.

after some time passed, he pulled up to chigiri’s house, your car the only one on the drive, which meant that only you were home. he switched off the ignition, stepped out of the car and walked up to the door.

with slight hesitancy, he lifted his fist to the door and knocked three times. he listened for any shuffling inside, but heard none. after a moment he turned away to leave, thinking you might’ve not been there after all. it’s possible you might’ve been out with chigiri in his car. yeah, that was probably it.

however.

“what do you want barou? i thought i was ‘making your life too hard’?”

shit, you were home. your voice was muffled, due to you speaking through the door, having seen his figure through the peephole.

“i- i didn’t mean that. not that way.”

you opened the door, allowing him to see a crack of your figure, donned in shorts and a tank top.

“then how did you mean it barou? don’t take me for an idiot, because i’m not one. no one says anything of that depth if you didn’t feel that exact way before. so before you let anymore bullshit spout from your mouth tell me exactly how you meant it, in what context. because i’m tired barou, tired of being in a relationship where i feel like i’m treading on glass around you because you don’t wanna do certain things. it’s not a nice feeling. you may not feel that way, but i do. i’ve felt that way during our whole relationship, but i feel like i can’t tell you shit so i’ve kept. it. in.”

wow. he really didn’t see things from your perspective. once he heard it from you, he realised just how much of a dickhead he sounded like. he couldn’t say anything, how could he explain himself after that?

he didn’t.

and after hearing no refutation or explanation from barou, you simply let go of any hopes of talking this out with him.

“shouei,” his ears perked at you using his first name. “i think…you should go. i don’t wanna have any hard feelings between us but i don’t think we’re right for each other. please understand and respect tha-”

you stopped short of ending your sentence upon seeing barou turn and leave before he could hear you out, getting back into his car and preparing to drive off.

you sighed, shaking your head and closing the door, effectually ending your relationship for good.

he got what he wanted, right?

☆彡 ITOSHI RIN

you woke up in the morning, immediately panning your vision to your left to see if rin had returned to bed. the bed imprints remained the exact same as you had left it when you fell asleep, which lead you to wonder if rin had even returned home.

you slid out of bed, your feet touching the cold wood floor, you trudged your way through the apartment, looking for signs of life, your shoulders falling in disappointment when you realised rin was nowhere to be seen. it was debatable if he even came home or not, the answer you would probably never find out.

you warred with yourself in your head about what to do. considering rin didn’t even try to talk to you to rectify the situation showed he didn’t really give a shit. if he didn’t come home, then he probably didn’t even know if you came home or not, which meant he isn’t worrying about you or where you were.

you weren’t a dickhead, and waiting for someone who evidently didn’t want you seemed like such a desperate action, which you weren’t trying to act like.

and so, calling a few willing friends, shedding some tears here and there, and half a day of hard work, you had effectively moved out of your shared apartment with rin, leaving a half completed home. he didn’t return home the whole day, not that you gave a shit anymore.

imagine rin’s surprise when he returned home from his team practice, expecting to see you moping around somewhere, but instead, nowhere to be found. as a matter of fact, where the fuck was your stuff? the apartment looked very much empty right now. he took at least 15 minutes to look around, analysing his surroundings, the same he would do during a game. any potted plants you bought for the house, specifically for the living room disappeared. your stupid candle ornaments that somehow made the house look better? not a ghost of a trace left behind. your clothes? gone. even from the laundry basket, only his clothes remained.

your products, your favourite sleeping pillow, even your toothbrush was gone. you left no stone unturned, questionable if you ever lived there in the first place.

still slightly puzzled but somewhat aware of the answer behind all of this, he pulled out his phone, clicking immediately on the message app. he sent you a message, heart dropping and suspicions confirmed when his message was not only green, but displayed a ‘not delivered’ message underneath. you had blocked him, and moved out without his knowledge.

he knew you were pissed off from what had transpired, but he didn’t know you would take action this soon. you didn’t even wait to talk to him for the love of god. this wasn’t supposed to happen this way, he was only angry at you because he felt threatened in the moment. but, recalling just exactly what he said to you, maybe it was warranted.

maybe it was for the best. you barely had enough time together as it is, due to unmatchable schedules and rin always being abroad. he was never able to give you enough love. funny, considering he didn’t even make sure to tell you. looking back on it, he realised he was kind of a dickhead to you.

so, he let go of the relationship for good.

—

four months had passed. he’d gotten bigger as a football player after his team winning a multitude of matches had lead to him becoming their star player, constantly getting man of the match achievements. this lead to his popularity increasing, getting more fans and fame as a result. he had been abroad this whole time, focusing on his career.

oh. but don’t think he had escaped you.

he couldn’t get his mind off you.

you tormented his thoughts daily and nightly, his yearning for you and hate for himself flourishing simultaneously as he repeatedly recalled how he fucked up. he wished he could go back to that night, heeding your warnings.

either way, that couldn’t be achieved now, for he didn’t know your whereabouts. he hadn’t known since that night on the pitch.

he tried to move on the best he could, returning back to japan to visit his parents whilst he had time off from football.

it just so happened one day while he popped out to a grocery store to get ingredients for his mother, the he saw the back of a familiar head, whisking away to the next aisle over. piquing his curiosity, he immediately paced to see if it way really who he thought it was.

and yes, the face he thought he’d never see again, the very same person who had been frequenting his mind,

you.

“y/n!” you froze, not expecting to find him here of all places. last time you had seen on tv, he was abroad. he wasn’t supposed to be here. deciding you had to face the music at some point, you turned around, watching as his demeanour melted, at really seeing you again after so long.

“rin…hi.”

all was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say to each other. what does one say in situations such as these? not to worry, rin answered for you.

“how…how’ve you been?”

“good thanks, how about you?”

“i’ve been— alright.”

silence settled again. rin wanted to voice so many things to you, starting with how he wanted you to know how he’s changed. how he’s calmed down in terms of training. how he’d make more time. he wanted you to know he’d do things differently, if you ever took him back. he wanted you to come home… but he didn’t know where to start.

he would have to at some point however, for you wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

“well…um, it was good seeing yo-”

“wait!” he interjected, panic settling in that you would disappear and he would never get the chance again. “i— i just wanted to tell you tha—”

“y/n baby, i’ve got the washing powder.”

baby? what the fuck?

he looked just past you to see a guy walking up to you, taking the basket from your hands with a peck to your cheek. you smiled at the action, lacing your hand in his hair as he took place behind you. he then noticed rin, standing there with visible shock on his face, confused on what he missed while he was gone.

“who’s this?”

“oh, just an old friend.” a bold faced lie. anyone with two functioning brain cells could feel the history between you two. “i’ve got my stuff so let’s go to the queue. nice seeing you rin…have a good day.” you walked off with your supposed new boyfriend. a boyfriend that wasn’t him.

have a good day? after you just shattered his heart like that?

his throat turned dry, awareness sinking in.

he wanted you to come home…but he was too late.

baby you sold me a dream pt.3

#anime #blue lock #bllk #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi x y/n #mikage reo x reader #blue lock reo #mikage reo #reo mikage #reo x you #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #bllk nagi #bllk nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro x reader #barou shouei #barou shoei x reader #bllk x y/n #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #bllk rin #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x you #nicxl333 #nicxl333writes #bluelock fluff

[timhalamet]

I saw laurie Lawrence and i got so excited (i see no fics of him even though he’s like the perfect man even if he sucks sometimes.) i’m excited to see your writings <3

the way things go

pairings- laurie laurence x fem!reader

summary- after over hearing laurie propose to your sister Jo, heartbroken you decide to leave to paris

warnings- angst, not proofread nothing else

'would you do me the greatest honour of making me your husband.'

Laurie's words seemed to replay and echo in the dull hollow walls of your mind. Your heart ached as tears dripped down your face . You were going to tell Laurie you loved him. You thought he loved you.

It was obvious now that you were wrong.

With a hand clamped over your mouth, you muffled the sob threatening to break out from your throat.

What made it worse was that he hadn't proposed to anyone else.

He proposed to Jo.

Anger simmed through you, overtaking the flow of your pain. You had asked Jo if something between her and Laurie had been going on and everytime she replied with 'don't be silly! Laurie's like my brother!' or 'laurie!? What possibly could make you think that!?' and brushed it off with furrowed brows and a disgusted frown.

But that didn't match up with what you had just witnessed.

Through the slightly ajar door, you walked down the hallway of lauries and his grandfather's house, hoping to speak to him only to be met with the sight of Laurie on one knee facing Jo, with a small velvet box holding one of the most gorgeous ring you have ever seen.

'would you do me the greatest honour of make me your husband.'

You held back your sob and flew down the stairs not caring if either of Jo or Laurie heard you.

You ran. Ran till you were in your bedroom, without a second thought, stuffing the rest of your precious belongings into your suitcase, filling it to the brim.

You looked around at your room savouring every inch before hauling your suitcase and down the stairs.

'you're already leaving so early?'

Marmees soft gentle voice called out from behind you, and you sighed turning around to face.

'should I get laurie to help you?'

A weak smile formed on your face, but you knew it was no use. Marmee could see right through anyone.

'no it's alright..I wouldn't want to bother him' your words came out more bitter than you intended to.

Soon without telling Meg, Jo, Beth, or Amy, you walked out of the door.

And to Paris.

'would you do me the greatest honour of make me your husband.'

Laurie knelt on knee holding the velvet box to Jo.

Jo squealed and grabbed Laurie up, wrapping her arms around his neck.

'its perfect! It's time, we need to go tell the others!'

'wait I need to look presentable' Laurie joked before dusting his clothes off and fixing the rough state of his hair.

The pair soon went to Lauries grandfather and told him the news.

He was ecstatic.

They spent an hour with lauries grandfather, before trampling through the thick mount of snow to tell marmee and the girls.

'is she here?', Laurie asked marmee.

Marmee sadly smiled, 'shes already left to the train station'

Laurie felt his heart drop to his stomach.

'what?'

'shes already left to Paris, if you're lucky the train might not have departed yet due to the snow storm.'

You sat on one of the benches at the train station, the bell jar in your hand, as you read impatiently waiting for your train to arrive.

Soon the call of your train was made.

You grabbed your suitcase and bag, holding the book with our arm.

As you began to struggle as you attempted to haul your suitcase and bag on the train, you felt arms grab your suitcase and a familiar voice.

'wait!'

You turned around to see Laurie, his hair sticking in all directions, and his face flushed from the snow.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the train.

'what were you thinking? You were just going to leave? Without telling the girls? Without telling me?' his voice was strained and raspy as if he had been screaming.

'laurie I don't have time for this- the train its leaving!' you harshly ripped yourself from Laurie's grip, attempting to chase the train down as it slowly departed, only to be in his hold again.

He held you against his chest.

'youre not leaving. You cant-why?'

You struggled to find your words.

You looked at him million answers as to why. Why? 'why? Really Laurie why? You know exactly why!' you held a finger to him accusingly as you jabbed him in the chest 'you- what happened to us? We were so close. I love you Laurie. That's 'why?'.' Laurie's jaw dropped as you continued. 'i love you and I thought...' your voice trailed off as you swallowed the lump in your throat frustrated. 'i thought you loved me to. And I went. I went to tell you but you already proposed, I was too late. You love her.' your voice dropped with jealousy and anguish.

'what?' Laurie asked his brows furrowed as he bit the inside of his cheek 'who are you taking about? I love you. Only you.'

You were confused. But didn't he propose to Jo? 'laurie I saw you... I saw..but you proposed to jo.'

Lauries faced changed. His eyes widened as his mouth slowly formed into a grin before he started laughing.

'laurie it's not funny!' you exclaim, yet also finding yourself trying to hide your smile, pushing him away playfully.

Laurie grabbed your hands, enlacing his fingers with yours.

'god, i was practicing to propose.' he chuckled ' I was practicing to propose. To you.'

'oh.' was all that left your mouth but it was nothing compared to the whirlwind of emotions in your stomach.

'so what do you say? Will you be my wife?' he asked grinning as his hands revealed a small velvet box holding the same gorgeous diamond ring.

'yes!' you beamed at him, your cheeks flushed as he slid the ring on your finger.

As laurie quickly embraced you, his chin on your head as you wrapped your arms around your torso, Laurie chuckled,

'i can't believe that after all that practicing this is the propsosal.'

'well I guess that's just the way things go.'

a/n I hate this so much but idk if it's just me 😭 I hope it's okay for you guys!

#laurie laurence x you #fem!reader #laurie laurence fluff #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence #theodore laurence x reader #theodore laurence #theodore laurie laurence #laurie laurence imagine #laurie laurence one shot #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet #little women #little women imagine #little women oneshot #laurie laurence angst

[cumikering]

Ex bf John Price x reader 2

2.6k | soft smut, angst, comfort Your closure (part 1)

You fiddled with the simple gold band. You hadn’t expected to see John, especially not there of all places. You didn’t know why you even said anything. You should have walked past.

But you remembered how you shook that afternoon in Hereford, gripping the edge of your seat and how you broke down as the train departed. You didn’t care what you looked like. How could you when you’d just ripped your heart out.

For days you holed up in your childhood bedroom, where you’d taken him into countless times. Your bed didn’t dip the same way without his weight. When you unwittingly pulled out one of his shirts from your wardrobe, you sobbed into it. You lived out of your luggage until you got your own place.

Perhaps you were desperate, or just silly, that you wore his gift as a wedding ring. That way maybe you could rationalise the hole in your life was from losing your husband, not just a boyfriend because dear God, he was so much more than that. As a sick vow that you’d never want to lose him to war, so you’d never crawl back. You had wanted to so many times.

You wrote John letters the nights you couldn’t sleep. Some mornings in the haze of slumber, you’d wake up to your empty bed thinking he’d left for the day. It took another second for it to dawn on you that he was never there. You took 10 more minutes to get up.

Sometimes you grabbed plates, one too many, and cooked four eggs instead of two. At the supermarket you’d reach for his favourite crisps before realising you didn’t have to anymore. Some nights you left the door unlocked out of habit.

The sun promised yet another day. The tears grew fewer and further between. Spring came and you found the box of letters you wrote. You counted - there were 56.

You’d never forgotten about him, even that the memory had loosened its claws on you. Despite the gnarly scar, the wound had dried.

But that day, after not speaking to each other for years, something crumbled in you. Was it his tired eyes? The way he stood, his weary smile? His beanie?

John Mother Fucking Price.

Did he hold onto the memories like you did too after all?

That evening, you laughed at yourself as you drove to his parents’. Knuckles white over the steering wheel, you stared at the front door as your heart raced. You rested your forehead against the wheel with a heavy sigh.

Why did you even come? What were you going to say? Did he even want to hear whatever it was you had to say?

You heart almost stopped when there was a tap on the passenger’s window.

It was John. Of course it was.

You unlocked the car with a shaky breath. He slipped right in and shut the door, rubbing his hands together and blew into them. The distant streetlight casted a soft glow on his face as he held your gaze.

“You alright?” he rasped, breaking the long silence.

You gave him a crooked smile, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I’m here,” you muttered, more to yourself.

His eyes flicked to your hand. “I think you do.”

“It’s from you, John.” You held it up to him. “The last one.”

His breath caught, blue eyes searching yours. “Tell me you hate me before I do something stupid.”

You wrapped your arms around him over the console. He took a frantic breath of your hair, and you almost whimpered at the way your face still fitted so perfectly in the crook of his neck. He smelt the exact same.

“I can’t hate you,” you sighed. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

You told yourself if you shut your eyes tight enough, the tears wouldn’t spill. They did anyway when you heard the choked sob from him. His beard tickled and it didn’t take long for his tears to dampen your neck.

“Love, I’ve- Fuck. Nothing has ever hurt this much.”

Your fingers ran through his soft hair, right above the nape of his neck the way he liked it.

“If call it quits… If I give up everything, would you have me back?”

“You wouldn’t,” you whispered. The truth still tasted bitter despite the years.

He gripped your shoulders. “Each time I come knocking with someone’s tags, a part of me dies too. I never want it to be you. I’ll never let it be you breaking down at our door.”

“Don’t do this to me, John.” Your face twisted. “Don’t… Don’t say all these things when-“

“You gave up your life for me. It’s my turn to do the same.” His thumb caressed your cheek. “I’d follow you anywhere. You just have to ask.”

You sobbed. He stroked your hair, your face pressed onto his shoulder, leaving dark patches on his sweater. His cheeks were still wet when you cradled his face.

In his steady arms, you could never be safer. As the windows fogged up, you wished the night was as endless as your kisses.

The streets of Liverpool had settled when John closed the door to your apartment. His eyes remained a little puffy, but his smile was brighter than when they were dry.

You’d missed that. The way his warm eyes crinkled, how his lips curved.

He tentatively pulled you by the waist, pressing your body against his. You never thought you’d feel those sturdy hands on you again.

You led him to your bed and flicked the bedside lamp on before pulling him on top of you. He stilled over you, the warm light illuminated the lines of his face. You traced the shape of him, his lower lip, his faint freckles, his tired eyes. He shut them with a shaky sigh. He was perfect.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss you,” he rasped, grasping your waist as his lips closed over yours.

He licked along your lower lip, nipping on it. The small gasp you let out allowed his tongue to slip past your lips, brushing against your own. When you arched your back, his hand slid under your top, kneading your hip.

“John,” you breathed against his lips, tugging on his shirt.

With you between his hard thighs, you watched with lidded eyes as he pulled his shirt off. His muscles weren’t as defined as they once were, but the same strength under was evident in the way his chest and arms flexed. You wasted no time running your hands over him, from his happy trail, partly hidden under the low hanging waistband, up to the darker fuzz of his chest. His abdomen rippled under your touch, bulge forming in his sweats.

He leaned back down and you palmed over the stretch of his back. There were raises you swore weren’t there last time. As you ran your fingertips over the scars, his lips didn’t relent against yours. Your tongues swirled between the nibbling and sucking. It surprised you how you were still in sync, not missing a beat despite the years.

He was still yours.

“Want you, John.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He helped you out of your clothes before himself. Kneeling before you, he parted your thighs and settled between them.

He exhaled, a rough hand trailed from your knee along your inner thigh. Your skin pulled as he squeezed the flesh at the thickest part, giving him a peek of your slick. He licked his lip.

His eyes flicked up to you, watching as you bit your lip, chest rising and falling, your nipples at attention. He climbed over you, licking a stripe up your breast before his hot tongue flicked over your nipple, rolling the other between his fingers.

Your fingers ran through his hair, clutching his roots. You hummed in pleasure when his mouth switched with his hand, teeth playfully grazing against your hardened nipple. Your back arched, yearning for more and more of him.

He sat back on his haunches, wet lips parted. Your hips bucked when his thumb swiped over your needy clit. The motion continued as his fingertips trailed from your waist down to your knee. His eyes transfixed on you as you shut your eyes, your breath shallow.

You gave a small nod when his finger circled over your opening. He barely had to push before slipping right in. He curled his finger, building his pace as he leaned over, planting kisses across your chest up your neck and jaw before meeting your lips again. The noises filled the dim room.

Your hand ran down his side, to his fuzzy pelvis and heavy balls. Your fingertips traced along his length and he twitched when you got to his leaking tip. You stroked his desperate cock, spreading the wetness it over him. You moaned into his mouth when he added another finger.

His pumped faster as he licked along your neck, his tongue grazing the cuff of your ear. Your arm slung over his neck, your nails digging into his flexed bicep as he held his weight up, clinging onto him.

“Always so good for me, love,” he breathed, his warm breath making you shiver.

Your back arched to meet him, hips rolling. His long, thick fingers grew urgent, thumb rubbing your swollen clit. The squelching merged with the sounds of the wet kisses your neck.

The familiar pressure settled in your core. Your breathing quickened, your moans shallow as he relentlessly hit the right spot.

“John- ah- Don’t stop, John,” you whined.

“Wanna make you feel good.” He nipped at your lobe. “Let me hear you.”

You unravelled with a moan, your head thrown back. Your trembling thighs closed around him.

“That’s it. Such a good girl for me.” He sucked on your exposed throat as his pumping slowed down to deep, long strokes, stretching the rest of your high.

He lied on his side facing you, rubbing your thigh as you caught your breath. He sucked his fingers clean with a deep sigh, eyes closed.

“John,” you began when you realised. “I don’t have any condoms.”

You tasted yourself on him as he leaned over to kiss you, his cock still hard and wet against your thigh. “We don’t have to. It’s all you tonight.”

“Has there…” It was irrational but jealousy crept up. “Have you been w-“

“Never.” He shook his head. “No one else since you.”

You felt like crying. “Please,” you whispered against his lips, cupping his face. “Need you.”

He kissed you once more, kneading your hip up to your breast before crawling between your legs. His eyes lidded, breathing shallow like he was delirious. He stroked himself a few times, as if his aching cock wasn’t ready enough.

A hand on your waist, he rubbed himself along your glistening slit, biting his lip as he watched. His tip circled around your opening. “Ready, love?” His eyes met yours.

When you nodded, he eased the first inch in with a groan, making you moan with the delicious stretch. He held your gaze, taking his time pushing further and further before he stopped with a teasing smile.

“John,” you whined, legs hooking around him.

He lifted your hips off the mattress and slid his last inches into your sopping pussy. The sensation of him bottoming out in you always intoxicated you. Your breath hitched as he grinded deep against you. Nothing ever felt a good as him.

His grip tightened before his hips moved. He reached to rub your clit with the pad of his thumb, making you whimper. He always knew how tilt his hips the right way, to reach that deep and undo you. The way he fucked you, sometimes you thought he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You fisted the pillow under your head, jaw slack. His eyes flicked to your tits as they bounced with each thrust.

“Fuck, it’s been forever,” he grunted.

He leaned onto his forearms to kiss you as his fingers laced with yours above your head. His body flush against yours, his breath warm. His scent carried a touch of smoke as always.

His thrusts were deep and languid, pulling out all the way until only the head of his thick cock remained before burying himself to the hilt again in smooth strokes. He fucked you into the mattress like he wanted you to remember every drag, ever curve of him. Only he could make you feel this way – nothing ever came close. It was your sentence for stealing his soul.

“Want to make you come again, love.”

You weren’t sure it was muscle memory or what, but the intensity of his gaze, the way he rocked against you and the way he surrounded you made the heat pool deep in your belly again.

He tilted your face away with his nose, allowing him access to suck on the base of your neck. The way you tightened around him was his que to pick up his pace. He pounded into you, his balls smacking against your ass. He groaned, his breath searing against your skin. Each thrust pushed a huff of breath out of you.

Your fingers squeezed his. He knew what it meant.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he panted against your ear. “Oh God, never leave me again, sweetheart.” His voice cracked.

His wet eyes bored onto yours. You couldn’t help the tear that slipped.

“I promise, John. I promise I won’t.”

He lifted your waist, angling himself to reach even deeper. Your moans grew louder, your fingers pulling on his hair.

“Come for me,” he said with urgency. “Let me make you feel good, love.”

You moaned, legs tightening around his waist as your second orgasm washed over you. He thrusted faster into your fluttering pussy, his breath heavy against your ear. He kissed you again, tongue dragging against yours.

In a swift motion, he pulled out and came on your stomach, moaning into your mouth. You reached down, milking the rest of him, his hot come ran between your fingers.

He peppered kisses all along your jaw as his breath evened out before cleaning you up. You wiped away his tears with your thumb, giving him a peck on the lips. With a grunt, he lied on his back as he pulled you against him. He clasped his hand over yours, resting it in the middle of his chest, pressing kisses on your forehead.

“Love, can we have a bath?” There was a tinge of embarrassment in his voice. “My joints hurt when it gets too cold sometimes.”

Your heart wrenched. He’d made you feel so good despite the pain. When he followed you off the bed, you shook your head.

Moments later, you led him to the hot bath you’d prepared. You knelt by the tub and as he hunched over his bent knees, you helped him wash his hair and body. In the light, the scars he’d acquired since were clear, but it wasn’t what caught your attention.

For your last anniversary, he got a tattoo of your favourite flower on his back. After an array of art, it was easy for one to be just another piece, but this... He never covered it up.

Your finger traced over it. “You’re beautiful, John.”

He let out a deep sigh.

His head tipped back against the tiles as he soaked. Your arms folded over the edge of the tub, your head resting on your forearm. With a soft smile and lidded eyes, he gave your hand a squeeze.

The dark didn’t have to be endless tonight. Because there was going to be a tomorrow, next week, next month, next year.

You believed him this time.

@glitterypirateduck @sofasoap @shadofireshinobi @tiredmetalenthusiast @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @rainybubbles @erinfern0 @devcica @sacr3dm1lk @esthervalea @katz-chow @captainjamster @aethelwyneleigh27 @thatgoblin @rennroo

#codholiday2023 #call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #captain price #john price #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #call of duty x you #cod smut #call of duty smut #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price x you

[seishiroh]

— i dreamt you loved me / nagi seishiro x reader.

— light angst. college!au. friends w/ benefits; mentions of sex & suggestive scenes. pining & kind of idiots in love.

— note: surely, i write the next part.

nagi seishiro looks beautiful.

it's silly to think, really. when you met nagi in your first year of college, you thought you'd hate him.

he'd been arrogant. he'd sleep through lectures while you'd take down notes, yet when the exam results came, it's his name above yours. to this day, you're not sure if it was an unfortunate thing that you'd been long term friends with isagi. because then, perhaps he wouldn't have persuaded you to help tutor their study group for the rest of the semester.

a study group where you meet bachira, reo, and (with isagi's head on your hit list) nagi seishiro—who, despite being top of that class, refused to be of any help to his own friends.

(when you came, though, he'd finally start muttering how to answer the questions. most of his attention on his game console and when you're not looking, trained on your face—as if he'd been trying to figure you out. as if he wants you to recognize that he's there.)

what you'd thought you'd deal with for only a semester, turns out to become your group of friends.

nagi, who you'd thought you'd hate, turned to become your crush.

you suppose your first mistake was thinking it was nothing; it's a crush, it doesn't really mean anything other than you're attracted to him. that's what you kept telling yourself until it's six months later and you're starting to feel suffocated by the terrible fact that you'd genuinely started to like nagi—more than a friend should.

as all things come and go, you think the same of the skipping of your heartbeat when nagi is around.

if you're honest, you're not even quite sure what prompted your feelings. sometimes, you think he's just so effortlessly impressive when you get to know him that it becomes difficult to look past it. sometimes, you think it's the comfort in what seems like intimate skinship between the both of you—his unashamed way of reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear no matter who was looking, your arm around his bicep when you're walking together, his head on your lap when you're studying and he couldn't be bothered to do the same.

instead of fading, your feelings grew like a well-loved flower blooming in the spring.

nagi seishiro looks beautiful.

especially when he's draping his body over yours on the couch the moment he comes through the door of your apartment; but you have company and you don't miss the way isagi and bachira share a look, quick to make a comment.

"huh? nagicchi, are you finally dating y/n?"

"...eh?" he groans before sluggishly sitting up, not really even sparing anyone a glance as he reaches for his phone. "no, why would i do that?"

isagi is quick to meet your eye, because he knows, because it's so obvious.

you clear your throat, picking up your pen. still, your voice cracks, "y-yeah, why would we—that's—"

you're grasping at nothing as the sound of nagi's game filters in. it's still bachira who speaks up, a finger held up to his face, "why wouldn't you, though? y/n's cool and you like her, right? nagicchi?"

you feel your heart dropping to your stomach.

nagi hums, quick to respond this time. "yeah but i don't really want a relationship. working hard for something like that… sounds so tiring."

you're not sure where to pay attention to. the yeah or everything else after that? yeah, you're cool or yeah, he liked you in the way you've always wanted him to? but nagi doesn't really allow you to think further. after all, he's shutting down any chances you have before you even knew there was any.

you must be insane, then.

when they leave and nagi stays, all you're left with is tension. it's unfortunate because nagi gets clingier when it's just the two of you, shuffling once in a while to lean on your shoulder.

you think you're fine, but you seem to forget just how perceptive nagi could get. he sighs, drawn out, and you could only squeak in surprise when he brings his hand to your face, tilting you to look back at him. eyebrows furrowed, frowning as he stares at you, reading you perfectly, "why're you so tense?"

"i'm not—"

"you like me, right?" it's not a question at all when he says it out loud. your answering nod is simply an accessory. 

you can feel the back and forth brush of his thumb on your cheek and his hand snaking to your waist, pulling you closer, "and you'd let me kiss you?"

you level his stare, trying to get something. anything.

"only if you like me too, sei…"

your breath is hot and your heart is on the line, nagi brushes his lips against yours, then presses, and finds all the ways to make you whimper with his familiar touch.

there's no answer.

not even in the morning after.

nagi seishiro looks beautiful. 

lying on his stomach, the duvet shrugged just halfway his torso, and a few pink scratches across his back.

but you should get up.

truthfully, though, your legs ache and nagi's bed is comfortable. were you given a choice, you'd stay here instead of getting ready for your class. then, you'd revel in the comfort of nagi's arm slung around your waist and the heat of his bare body pressed against yours ever so slightly.

except you shouldn't. it's not like he's your boyfriend. in fact, you shouldn't even have stayed the night.

it's a rule you've given yourself a few months after your rendezvous with nagi started. you can't let yourself stay after sex, not with the feelings that have been brewing over you until now.

you get up, go to class, then you promise yourself you'd stop caving in the next time nagi is pulling you back to bed—voice lazy, raspy, and so, so persuasive.

"aren't you tired?" he'd murmur against his pillow, his hand wrapped around your wrist willing you to stay.

of course you are, but you think you'd rather brave it than stay with him in bed like couples do; yearning to hear him say something unlike himself, like how he wishes you'd be his girlfriend.

but he doesn't and you're not.

in the end, you still find yourself beneath his sheets and when he's asking you to stay again—like you're not just a friend he fucks, you start to wonder if he's changed his mind yet.

"it's bothersome, y/n. you should just bring a bag so you don't have to leave after." he turns while you're sitting up on his bed. "just let some of your stuff stay here," he tells you carelessly.

"i'm not your girlfriend, sei."

"i'm not asking you to be, though, just—"

the breath you take is sharp, cutting him off, "that's the problem. you can't just say those things, sei."

"you're getting worked up over nothing, y/n. i don't see the big deal," he replies. 

so turn to him, frustrated, "the big deal is that i'm in love with you, you dumbass!"

it feels silly when you finally say it, but you feel stuck. in your feelings, in what he so selfishly wants, in what you're always so willing to give him.

a beat passes and still, all you get is his silence. you scoff, pushing away the sheets, "you know, for someone so smart, you're so awfully dense, nagi."

it's the last thing you tell him before you're gathering your things and walking out the door.

finally, he doesn't do anything to stop you. you should be relieved, but all you get is heartache.

being in the same circle, it doesn't take long for you to figure out that nagi has been avoiding you. in the lecture hall, instead of sitting next to you like he usually does, careless that he's late—nagi starts sitting across the room, far away from you.

you understand you might've sounded so mad before, when you blurted out how you were in love with him. it makes you wince in embarrassment now that you think of it but what's done is done. so you think maybe that's why he's avoiding you, aside from your feelings he clearly had no interest in.

isagi, bachira, and reo must know by now too. if the way they avoid mentioning nagi to you or covering up about how nagi can't make it to hang out with you guys is any indication.

this is what makes you take the defeat. nagi only had them, after all.

before you. 

you start telling them you won't make it and start hanging out with other people. one of them, yukimiya kenyu.

you have most of your classes with him and lately, he's been taking the spot next to you where nagi used to be. he's sweet, nice—he's charming in an effortless way.

and he's waiting by the door outside your lecture hall after class. it's the only one you have without him, it's the one he's been waiting by, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

you can feel your cheeks heating up because everyone else is filtering out the door when he pulls you to the side.

"hey," he greets you with a beautiful smile.

"hey, what are you doing here?" your voice is small, unconsciously shy.

"i just wanted to hand you these, and ask if you're free after this," he seems almost sheepish, the way he holds the bouquet out to you, no matter how confident you know he is.

your breath hitches. the flowers are beautiful, in your favorite colors, as if he's letting you know he's been paying attention to you.

you want to agree, but it's a different voice that replies to him before you could.

"c'mon, y/n. isagi said they're at the cafe," nagi says loud enough for yukimiya to hear, his hand reaching out to clasp with yours.

it takes you by surprise, enough to dodge him completely. it's been weeks since he last spoke to you, not even in this class where you only knew each other.

yukimiya is there to watch it, the way you react to nagi seishiro and the way nagi is looking at you like he wants to take you away. he thinks you probably don't see it. he likes you, as a friend and more than that, and he wonders if—as a good friend—he should tell you that nagi looks at you like he loves you.

you stammer, looking for the words to say before shaking your head. "just tell them i can't make it today, nagi."

"you haven't come to hang out with us for a while though," nagi's answer is quick, sounding defiant.

you glance at yukimiya, wrapping your arm around his, hoping he won't walk out on you because of how awkward this is.

"i can just come next time, nagi," you force a smile. "but yeah, yukki and i should get going."

luckily, yukimiya plays along, humming in thought and mentioning the drive you'll have to take. it's enough for you to be able to bid nagi goodbye.

nagi watches you walk away, your hand reaching out to hold the bouquet. he can hear your soft voice thanking yukimiya for the flowers, slowly getting farther and farther away from him. 

and as if the world was there to mock him, a single, small flower from your bouquet slips and flows with the wind.

landing in front of him.

he doesn't know why, but he reaches to take it, bringing it home with him.

#nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock angst #:: thread of fate #idk anymore pls

[saerins]

─── 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

+ itoshi rin x f!reader | wc 6k | content: mostly fluff, some angst, rin is so awkward, childhood friends to lovers

notes: my first time writing something for rin so i’m nervous but i hope you guys like it <3 pls i hope i didn’t butcher him >_< rbs & feedback appreciated muwah !

summary: rin thinks about you all the time, for better or for worse. problem is, he really shouldn’t be anymore. things never seem to work out for the both of you, will trying even make a difference this time?

rin knows you don’t like flowers. no wait, you like them, you just don’t like receiving them. you cried once, when the flower he plucked for you died within a few days in your makeshift vase.

rin also knows that while other girls dream of their dream wedding, you dream of a nice cosy house, a modern one with touches of japanese accents. he likes to hear you talk about it. he likes to hear you talk about anything at all, actually.

he’s known you ever since you were both little, since you were both five and just two kids in the playground playing hide and seek.

rin would always win, because you’re as clumsy as it gets and you’re not that observant. you could never find him, even if he’s right there. he likes it though; seeing you look for him, that little panicky look in your eyes when you think he’d ever actually abandon you and run off.

he played with you whenever he could—you were both neighbours after all. it was fun, being with you was fun.

you reminded him of new beginnings, like how it feels like jumping into a pool after a long hard day of training, or how the sun feels like hitting your skin on a cold winter day.

it was second nature for him—to seek you out whenever he had a hard time, to look for you when he needed a distraction, to search for you in the crowd to seek some familiarity.

but it’s easy for flimsy things to break. the both of you were just kids, and kids did childish things, like think only for the moment and not further into the future, did silly things like saying you’d marry one another with fake paper rings and forget it the very next day (rin remembers). kids also handle things in a bad way, in the way that leaves no room for the friend they pushed away.

if rin regrets anything from his past, it’s that he took sae’s departure out on you.

rin doesn’t know how to process things well. can’t decide why exactly he’s so pressed about sae’s choice of words. doesn’t know what to make of why he even plays soccer. is it just because of his brother?

he doesn’t fucking know.

rin’s sorry.

it isn’t your fault his brother found a different path. you had nothing to do with it. you and those brownies you cooked for him. he’s sorry that he let them fall to the ground and just stormed off.

that was what, three or four years ago? you’d moved out by then, and the both of you had never spoken since.

if he’s being honest, he misses your presence. maybe it’s the fact that you were his manifestation of a safety net, someone that he could fall back on, someone he could lean on.

maybe he’s just being an asshole.

now he’s seventeen and probably even more of an asshole. if anything, sae’s departure left a bitter taste in his mouth that he wasn’t able to cleanse.

but he’s lucky you’re you. you’re you and that means you don’t hold grudges and you’re still the kindest person he’s ever known.

“rin?”

he stops his hand in mid motion, the key between his fingers dropping onto the wooden floorboards below. rin can’t seem to function anymore—he knows that voice. all too well.

it’s the voice that made him excited as a kid, it’s the same voice that comforted him whenever he fell short of perfect, the same voice that haunts his dreams sometimes at night, even now.

rin turns around and sees you there, at his front porch, smiling all awkwardly and chuckling nervously, your hands in your pocket because you never know what to do with them when you’re uncomfortable.

“hi,” is all he manages to choke out because he’s still a little stunned and his key is long lost and forgotten on the ground.

“hey stranger,” you grin, and his heart beats faster and faster as you get closer and closer.

the both of you are no longer kids, and it’s so painfully obvious now in front of him. he can’t stop fucking staring even if his inner voice is screaming at him to.

“i thought you moved away,” rin manages to say, and because he’s really curious as to why you’re even here, in this place you’re not supposed to be, talking to someone you haven’t spoken to in years.

“i’m, uh, here just to visit my family,” you stutter out, and rin wants to call you out on it so bad, but he can’t do that without exposing himself.

how could he possibly tell you that he knows none of your family is left here in the neighbourhood because he’s asked everyone who used to be in contact with your family? how can he possibly say that without exposing himself for going through your social profiles just to find out that you’ve moved out to another city with your entire family?

so, what are you here for then?

“hey, you wanna, uh, go eat dinner together? or something? later?” you’re so awkward rin could die. rin’s so awkward he could just kill himself.

the silence is deafening and it’s not that he doesn’t want to have dinner with you, it’s just that he has soccer training in the evening and he’s still in shock from the fact that you’re here in the flesh and—

“it’s okay, forget i asked, i was just—”

“no, i mean,” rin trips over his own words and the two of you are just two stupid idiots standing on the itoshi family’s porch doing stupid idiot things. he takes a deep breath, “where should we eat?”

that smile you shoot him is deadly and he wants to keep it forever. if that’s even possible. but he’s really awkward with his feelings and he doesn’t even know what he feels for you. all he knows is that he wants you to stay here again, be within reach for him.

“pick me up at six on your bike?” you nod over to his bicycle, and he blushes so hard because despite getting countless valentines from other girls, none of them have the same effect on him as you do.

rin thinks he should shake his head and say no and pretend like you don’t exist again. he shouldn’t go on this pseudo date with you.

yet he does. he picks you up where you said you’d be, at a hotel near the heart of the city. he’s on his bicycle, just like you asked of him, and you definitely dressed for the ride, comfortable in shorts and a tank top. you’ve gotten from cute to so so pretty and rin finds it so damn difficult to tear his eyes away from you.

when you get on the back of his bicycle, you put your hands around his waist and he can actually feel how fast your heart is beating. rin’s is too, but he’s grateful you probably can’t tell.

also at your request, he takes you to a spot he chose—which is nothing extravagant because you’re both still broke students who haven’t earned your own money, but he thinks you’ll like it anyway.

after getting some cup noodles from a nearby convenience store, he pedals over to the playground the both of you used to spend ages at when you were kids. the place where you used to play hide and seek with each other.

it’s a place of significance. at least, to him. he wonders if you even remember this place.

“nice choice, itoshi rin,” you say, and rin has his answer. “i missed this place.”

and rin missed you, but he isn’t going to say that.

“i’m surprised you remember,” he tells you, choosing to sit down on the swings. you follow and sit on the only other one beside him, your cup noodle hot and ready in your hands. “how’s kyushu?”

you slurp up some of your noodles, and rin thinks you look beautiful just like this anyway. “it’s okay, made some friends so that makes it more tolerable.” you’re shrugging like it’s no big deal, but he can tell by the faraway look in your eyes that there’s more to it.

“tokyo’s better, huh?” he isn’t much for small talk, but he can’t help himself—it’s been far too long without you, and he wants to feel close to you again. it’s as though after everything that happened—sae moving abroad, you moving away, rin feeling lost—it’s like he doesn’t really know how to be your friend anymore.

nodding your head, you turn to him. “much better.”

and rin can’t help but think that there’s a deeper meaning to your answer. but he doesn’t press.

maybe he should’ve, because when you switch the topic, he finds he doesn’t like what he’s hearing.

“anyway, i’m only here for a day,” you tell him, going back to your noodles. “i fly back tomorrow.”

some part of him wants to ask you why you’re even here. he wants to know about the you now, about how much has changed in these few years, what you like now—do you still like hot chocolate in the winter, do you still get colds easily, do you still think about him after all this time?

“are you… going to come back for college?” because if you still wanted to go to university in tokyo, you’d have to move back here. rin thinks he’d like that.

you’re a little taken aback because from what you’d heard from your old friends, rin had become someone they barely recognised; cold, blunt, more like his brother than himself. but in front of you now, you feel like the rin you know is still in there.

but this is where it gets hard.

“actually…” you trail off because you don’t really know where to start. “i got into a university in america. my mother got a job there and she wants me to go with her.”

you don’t even want to look at him right now. you don’t really know what you want to see. some silly part of you wants to see that he minds, that he’ll make a big deal out of you going away somewhere even further than the other side of japan. but if he doesn’t, if he looks like it doesn’t affect him at all, then you don’t think you can handle that.

“oh.” ever the best at giving a non-response, you’re not surprised.

it’s silent for a while, and the two of you are just eating your noodles, and it’s so suffocating that you want to bolt and run but that means you probably won’t ever get to see rin again and you don’t want that.

your body is screaming at you to do something, to say anything, to savour whatever time you have left with rin now properly—but you can’t.

beside you, the gears are turning in his head. rin’s noodles are already gone and he isn’t even aware his chopsticks are grappling around for nothing but soup.

america? that’ll mean you’re at least twelve hours away and he can’t even imagine what that’ll mean for your friendship. or whatever the fuck this muddy waters is.

rin wants to say something, anything—but what? don’t go? when are you coming back? are we ever going to be at the same place at the same time again after tonight?

he’s conflicted between his possible feelings and his selfishness. so he resigns to not saying anything at all. all that’s left for the night is hearing the wind blowing past your faces and the creaking of the swings, very much like how he envisioned a bad goodbye to go.

that night he gives you a ride back to your hotel despite your insistence that it’s late. because who do you take him for? did it mean nothing to you that this might be the last time?

“so, uh, i’ll see you around, i guess,” you say as you step off of his bicycle, after a trip that seems way too fast. rin already misses the sensation of your arms around his waist.

he thinks it’s a stupid sentence. realistically, in every single way he can think it’ll play out, it ends with the both of you drifting apart anyway, and he finds himself wishing you never came back.

which is untrue. which is the furthest it could possibly be from the truth. but rin doesn’t want to think about that right now.

“okay then, goodbye,” rin decides, because he’s not about to get his own hopes up for nothing. if you’re about to vanish, then maybe it’s high time he gets it done.

rin steps on the pedal, but then you stop him, voice clear as the first day he met you. “rin, wait!”

you’re not sure why it slipped out, but it did.

“what is it?”

his eyes are cool, calm, a dead teal that stares right through you. you’re almost intimidated because you’re not sure just what he’s thinking of you right now. he must think you’re a freak, showing up like this and dropping a bomb that he may or may not care about.

“um, nothing, it’s just- is there anything else?”

some part of you wants him to ask you to stay in tokyo. maybe the both of you could find a university together and stay in close proximity, just like when you were kids, just like how you liked it.

just like everything you missed.

and now the two of you are staring at each other, knowing yet not knowing everything that’s going through one another’s mind. but it gets lost in translation because neither of you can find the words to say.

rin blinks at you, and you can’t even read him if you tried. “no, nothing. is there something you wanna say?”

you shake your head, smiling through it. “no, nothing. goodbye.”

you’re back through the hotel double doors before you know it, and rin’s left to watch your silhouette fade away.

for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s lost something precious that he’ll never find again.

life goes on.

rin graduates from high school and so do you. the texting stopped, and that much he expected. better to cut the cord sooner rather than later, even if rin wished for otherwise.

he rides on a full scholarship to university, and from the online grapevines, he hears that you’re doing the same. you’re smart, so he’s not surprised.

this is the right thing to do; both of you have your own lives to concentrate on. some stupid crush doesn’t matter. and yes, rin has already conceded to the feeling because he can’t explain this any other way.

his frustration that comes from your separation, his anger when it comes to being helpless, his endless regret from not saying anything that night—it’s only because he wants you.

“i hear y/n’s doing good at her new school,” rin hears his mom cooing from the kitchen. he sighs. of course she did, yours and his moms are both close. yet another channel through which he can get updates on you, warranted or not.

“yeah?” he pretends not to care much, but he’s hanging on her every word.

“yeah, it’s valentines’ day around the corner too, i hear she has lots of guys lining up.”

kill him. kill him right fucking now.

“good for her.” good for you he’s not there to stare daggers at all the guys ogling at you. good for you he’s not there to commit bloody murder.

“i think so too, ah she’s all grown up,” his mother chatters on, completely oblivious to the torment she’s subjecting her son to. “i hear she’s having her first date next week, i heard he’s a model too, did she talk to you about it?”

you must’ve played it off to your mother that you and rin are fine. rin sighs, tired of the thoughts running through his head. as if soccer wasn’t tiring enough already.

“don’t know, maybe.”

just like his feelings for you, and his willingness to act on it.

two years into university and it isn’t that hard for him anymore.

actual lectures and assignments take up half of his time, and the other half is reserved for soccer. with teammates like isagi yoichi and bachira meguru annoying him even outside of practice, rin doesn’t even have much time to think of you.

until he’s forced to.

“what about you, rin? is there anyone special in your life?”

bachira tuts, “isagi, he’s always buried in books and practicing soccer, it’s obviously a no.”

rin’s annoyed, half because what bachira said is true and half because isagi made him think of you. it’s been a while since he knew what was up with you. you’re probably doing well, probably thriving in that environment, probably all in love with your boyfriend—that stupid yukimiya kenyu that you accepted for valentine’s last year.

he carefully extracts himself from isagi and bachira’s bickering, feigning that he’s looking through the aisle for books except what he’s really doing is scrolling through his phone and hunting for your profile.

what other way is he supposed to get updates? definitely not from you, because you’ve been so fucking radio silent since that night.

all that rin sees that day is a story posted to your account. just a backdrop of the view in your city with the words some things just aren’t meant to be.

you’re right. some things aren’t. including the both of you. so rin tucks his phone away in his pocket and goes about his day, half happy that it sounds like you’re not with yukimiya anymore, half concerned that this is what the both of you became.

somehow he’s here. he’s right fucking here and it’s him this time that’s going to surprise you. unintentionally. or intentionally, if you argued that he agreed to come in the first place.

“isn’t this place so beautiful?” his mother’s words are lost on him. he’s too busy thinking of you.

his mother’s here to visit your mother and by extension he guesses you’ll be there. it’s supposedly the summer break anyway.

and you really are there, on your front porch this time, freezing up when you catch sight of rin walking up your driveway.

nothing can describe his relief when you actually walk up to him and talk to him, because a part of him was expecting you to slap him for some reason.

“still watching horror movies for fun?” you ask him when you’re finally alone together, away from the ruckus of both your moms.

you missed him, he and his teal eyes and his absurdly longer fringe and his awkward demeanour. he’s a long shot from the person you knew as a kid. he’s taller, more muscles, more stoic, handsome. you were too shy to look at him properly that night in tokyo, but you can now.

“i don’t really have time for fun.” rin turns away, a little horrified you remember as much about him as you do. you’d been asking him things you remember from back when you guys were five. “how’re things here?”

you hum in contemplation, like you’re considering your words, and rin looks at you this time, admiring the way you look in the sunlight, the smile stuck onto your face, the voice that he’d never get tired of.

“it’s fine, school’s great, boyfriend’s great, everything’s… great.”

boyfriend?

“that yukimiya guy?”

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. he didn’t mean to say that. fuck. you’re gonna know he stalked you. he doesn’t even fucking follow you, he has no good excuse for knowing that.

you blink once, twice, confused and then getting bashful from the realisation. “um, yeah. things were rocky at first and then it got better so…”

rin is internally strangling himself. he needs to stop having thoughts about a taken girl. he needs to stop wondering what you taste like, what you look like in the mornings when you just wake up, what you’d sound like when you’re sleepy.

“that’s… good.”

the two of you are awkward to bits and he wishes he was someone different right now.

the day ends with nothing substantial. rin couldn’t talk much after he hears you’re still with yukimiya. you couldn’t even stay much because you had plans with him anyway. who’s he to stand in your way? rin’s just an old friend from the past. that’s all. there’s nothing more.

that’s what he thinks. until that same night when he’s all packed and ready to go for the next afternoon’s flight. all because you called him out of the blue. he’s amazed you still have his number.

“hey, rin.”

from the first moment you opened your mouth, he can tell you’re crying. shit, why are you crying?

“are you okay?” because you’re probably the only person in the world who can tug on his heartstrings like this. for being the only person in this world he has feelings for.

you’re forcing a laugh, like you’re not sure what to say. rin doesn’t really know either.

“am i not worth anything?” your question takes him off guard.

doesn’t take a genius to know something probably happened between you and yukimiya. and it doesn’t take much for you to get rin bolting out the door.

“where are you?”

“home,” you sniffle, and you must hear him getting into a cab, “i’m fine, you don’t have to come—”

“i’m coming,” he tells you, firmly, and he can almost tell you’re smiling from the other side of the line.

rin’s heart is racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins. he’s not sure why, but he’s ached to get closer to you since forever, and he passed it up the last time, the previous time you met in tokyo.

his heart’s still racing when you let him into the house, when it’s all dark and unfamiliar and you’re so close to him he can smell the shampoo off your hair.

apparently yukimiya never got over his first love, and you’d caught him locked in a kiss with her right before your dinner.

he’s not good with these situations. at comforting people, at being so close to the girl he likes that he’s trying his very best not to fucking kiss her right now. how does he tell you that you’re good enough, right now, when you keep rambling on and on about how you think you’re not? he really wants to shut you up but he can only think of kissing you and maybe that’s not a can of worms you want to open right now.

besides, if he does that, you might look at him as something temporary, a crutch you need right now but not for the long run and call him crazy but if he’s going to try this much for you, he doesn’t want to be the rebound.

but god fucking damn it, he’ll kill himself if he chickens out now.

you fall asleep after crying your guts out, and rin’s barely said ten words to you all night. he carries you to your room, puts you down on your bed and he resists placing a kiss on your forehead even if you won’t know it.

there’s no time left here for him, he’ll have to go back home tomorrow afternoon and you’ll be worlds apart once again. tonight may have been just a fluke; you probably just needed someone and rin was a safe bet.

he writes something down on a rough paper sitting on your desk and leaves it there before he goes. it’s irritating, how much you’re making him think, how much you’re making him flip flop between various moods.

one moment he decides to leave you alone and the next moment he doesn’t want to leave your side. there’s just something about seeing you so heartbroken that he can’t forgive.

and how kind the world is, to serve the guy who broke your heart to rin in a silver platter. he’d recognise that hair and those glasses anywhere—yukimiya kenyu.

“who’re you?”

rin doesn’t respond, only pushes him away. “if you know what’s good for you, leave.”

“what are you talking about?”

“i know what you did to y/n.”

yukimiya sighs, “look that’s what i wanted to talk to y/n about. i wanted to do this properly, to talk it out with her properly but then my ex was the one who—”

“shut the fuck up, i don’t care.”

yukimiya looks like he wants to retaliate, like he wants to argue back, and it would’ve probably turned into an all-out brawl if your mother didn’t rush out of the house at just the right time.

rin doesn’t bother with anything else after that. he leaves even though your mother tells him he can stay. frankly, he’s not sure he can stand being in the same room as yukimiya without giving him a punch.

the next morning comes and you haven’t left any messages. rin’s already back in japan for a while when you decide you’re finally ready to call him. but he’s heartbroken from thinking he was stupid to leave you that note so he rarely pays attention to his phone.

you end up having to leave it on his voicemail instead.

you said to call you if i wanted to try and… i do.

whatever yukimiya had come to say to you that night, it probably didn’t work, because rin does hear your voicemail. he hears your voice saying that you want to try, with him, and he thinks he may have been dreaming for a while.

but then he plays it over and over and over again.

he’s a few years late, but better late than never, he thinks.

you have two more years before you get your degree, and rin’s not about to get in between that. what he does do is pay you a visit from time to time because he hates this goddamn physical distance between the both of you.

it starts with the both of you talking to each other over the phone, the painfully awkward conversations turning more and more bearable. after a while, you’re the one getting him out of his shell, purposely teasing him all the time, getting reactions out of him.

he stays over at your apartment near school whenever he visits. you share the same bed for the first time and somehow it’s not uncomfortable. he lays beside you like he’s meant to be there. and you fall asleep so fast whenever he’s there, like he’s your damn lullaby.

distance starts to feel like nothing for the both of you, because it never wanes your feelings. even when he’s in japan and you’re halfway across the world, it doesn’t feel like you’re very far.

besides, he likes how it is—you chase your dreams, he chases his. the future can wait. the uncertainties can come later.

they come faster than he bargained for.

you’re nearing graduation while he’s nearing the end of his current contract term with a japanese club, but you’ve scored a job with one of the hottest startups in america. which means you’re going to be there.

for a long while.

“take it,” rin tells you, because you’ve called him to tell him this because you don’t know if you want to. but he can tell, like he always can when it comes to you. you want to take it, and he’s the only factor that’s stopping you. because before now, you’ve been thinking of coming back to tokyo and working at one of the bigger firms here.

looks like that plan’s not going to pan out though, because rin will kill himself before he becomes the reason that you’re not being the best version of yourself.

“but that means…”

there you go, hesitating again.

“we’ll figure it out. we did it once before, we’ll do it again.”

you chuckle in relief because somehow, itoshi rin has become your rock. he went from being some stoic and inexpressive human to being your voice of reason.

“you’re right, you’re right,” you concede. because yes, he’s always right somehow.

so you accept the offer, signing yourself away for another five years.

“what does that mean for the both of you though?”

you sigh. you’re not sure. rin hasn’t said much beyond what he did during that phone call nearly a year back, and he hasn’t come to visit for a few months now so you can’t really tell what’s going on in his head.

long distance sucks.

“i don’t know, mom,” you confess, “i don’t want this to be the end. but i can’t see a future where the both of us are always in different countries.”

your mother doesn’t say anything much after that, it’s not like she has any personal experience on the matter.

you think about it all throughout your finals period, all throughout your graduation transition. you’re not sure that you and rin can just make it through this by just winging it like how you’d always been. and you think maybe rin is just full of it, maybe he’s just as much in denial about this as you are. he hasn’t even been texting you as much nowadays, not after the news.

your phone vibrates on your table as you’re idly staring out the window. it’s a week to graduation.

a text from rin.

meet me after your ceremony next week, we need to talk.

and the anxiety kicks in.

rin shows up at your graduation ceremony like he said he would. he dresses up nicely, white dress shirt and black pants—simple, classy, handsome. you can spot him even from where you are, up near the stage.

yeah, you’d been nervous ever since he sent you that text.

it didn’t help that he didn’t talk to you much up until today, when his flight landed and he’d told you about it even though he knows you have his flight details in your handy little app.

when you run over to him after the ceremony, you find quite a funny sight before your eyes. never in your life did you think you’d ever see rin looking sharp as ever in a white shirt and pants only to be carrying what looks like a bouquet of—not flowers but—nuggets on sticks and chocolate.

rin smiles sheepishly when you get to him. “you don’t want flowers right?”

yeah, you’re in love with him. dorky, stupid rin with his abstract ways of showing love. you love how he remembers details like this since way back when you were kids. you love his awkwardness and his acts of service. you love him and everything he has and all that he doesn’t.

“thanks, i love it,” you gush, taking the bouquet from him, accepting your parents’ offer to help take a picture of the both of you.

they take a ton of pictures.

in one of them, rin kisses your temple and you think you might melt. in another, you kiss his cheeks in return and he’s a deep shade of red. those are before the last picture where he turns you to face him and presses a kiss on your lips, earning a few whistles from the people around you.

you punch him playfully on the chest for that. you hear him chuckle and that might be your favorite sound ever.

rin surprises you too, because the next thing you know, he’s dragging you along with him, running to his car parked by the curb; you’re wondering how he even had the time to rent it.

“where are we going?”

your gown is long discarded into the back seats and rin only offers you a smirk in return. he’s not telling, and you roll your eyes and let it be.

whatever it is, you’re excited.

maybe it’s the fact that you had been thinking the worst up until this point. or maybe it’s the fact that he has his hand on your bare thigh. hell, it could even just be the fact that you’re sitting in a car with the prettiest guy you’ve ever met. but your heart is beating out of your chest and for the first time, you feel like this can be nothing but good news.

rin proves you right, because he takes you somewhere unfamiliar and then tells you why exactly he’s been distant the past week. he takes your hand and leads you through the front doors of what he now calls “our house”.

everything you’ve ever told him you wanted in your dream house; wooden overheads, small koi pond out back, a beautiful rooftop garden with a wooden porch swing.

everything.

he made it real. he made your dream house without you asking. he’s telling you he’ll move here if that’s what it takes to be with you. he tells you he loves you more than he can ever imagine loving anything else at all. he says that he’ll always be with you, and this time he doesn’t want to be apart to do it.

he asks you, “will you try to make it work with me?”

as if he even needs to.

if anyone asked you back then if you thought rin was capable of any of this, you’d say no. because the boy you knew at five is passive, quiet, not the kind to make declarations like these.

yet here he is, almost twenty years later, promising to put you first and make this last because he’s sure this is what he wants.

“itoshi rin,” you slowly call his name, roping your arms around his shoulder while the both of you look at each other and only each other as you stand on the staircase landing. “what would you have done if i said no?”

because this is all extravagant—rin put his everything into this. dug up all the memories of your dream house, ran himself haggard just to get all of this done on time, and who knows what else because he kept all of this from you?

rin has a straight face, beautiful teal eyes rolling to the side as he contemplates. “guess that was never an option in my head.”

“you’re so stupid,” you tease, pressing a kiss onto his soft lips and relishing in the fact that this is just the first kiss of many to come.

because he’s now here. here with you. and he’s here to stay.

“guess that’s why i need you around to take care of me,” rin teases back, biting his lower lip and smirking at you.

you jump up and he catches you, your legs crossed behind his back as he carries you to the kitchen, setting you down on the countertop.

“so, itoshi rin,” you say again, suppressing a grin. “does that mean you’re gonna make me your wife one day?”

rin sighs and rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “okay, trouble, dial back a bit now. one step at a time.”

he’s lying through his teeth, a ring passed down through his family for generations already nestled neatly in the hidden compartment of the nightstand in the bedroom. he’s lying—but you don’t need to know that. not yet.

you’re all trouble, and all beautiful and all his and rin is going to marry you someday.

because he may be dumb in a lot of ways, may be a little awkward and terrible in most situations and not the friendliest guy out there. but somehow you chose him and you always did and you always will so he’s not going to let you regret that decision.

so before you can make a comeback and expose him for really wanting to marry you, he kisses you to shut you up, and you know anyway.

because you’ve known rin since you were five, playing hide and seek in the playground. you never won because you could never find him. but you think now you have; you’ve found him and he’s not going anywhere. not anymore.

“i’m never gonna let you leave me, itoshi rin.”

he chuckles, “i’m all yours, trouble.”

#bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #blue lock x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you #rin x y/n #itoshi rin x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

[strawberri-blonde]

Secret Oasis - Neteyam

Summary: You help Neteyam put on his loincloth. Pure fluff!

Warning: Allusions to sex, and talk of body parts, but no action participated other then kissing. Angst if you squint your eyes.

Masterlist

As you awaken, your senses are flooded with warmth, and a gentle hand caresses your hair. You try to open your eyes, but the sun's rays shining through the treetops are too much for them to handle. You shut them again, while extending your limbs to savor the feeling of the first stretch of the morning. Slowly, you open your eyes and take in the beauty of the early sun shining down on all of Eywa's creations. As you bask in the serenity of nature, you hear someone rummaging around. Your eyes drift away from the greenery to watch as Neteyam stands in the middle of the sandy area that exists deep in the Metkayina forest but close enough to be able to hear the waves of the ocean. He's wearing nothing but his matching necklace that he shares with you, and other than that, your mate is completely nude.

You let out a silly smirk as you heard the frustrated grunts and sharp whispers escaping his mouth. It looked like he was having trouble with his loincloth. After letting out a sleepy breath, you pushed yourself into a sitting position from the hammock and slipped out of the bed. Your blue feet touched the soft material of the palm leaf woven mat that you made for this secret oasis that kind of felt like the forest back home.

You barely noticed his harsh mumbles, as you were focusing on the area between his legs. Pride filled your body as you took in your mate. His tall frame was strong and muscular, and his skin was tanned from the sun. Neteyam had the body of a warrior. Yet as he fumbled with getting the material to cover him modestly, his movements were nimble and smooth.

“Need help?” His eyes widen and his ears flattened realizing that he’d woken you up.

“Yawne, I’m sorry.” You waved him off, walking up to him reaching out to gently touch his face and stroke his hair. “Didn’t mean to wake you, just was having trouble with this material. I mean it’s not even the width of your wrist. How is this supposed to cover anything.” This made you giggle at how frustrated he was getting.

Your eyes dropped down to his soft cock, and you smirked. Even when he wasn’t aroused, it was a good handful. “Well, no need to brag," you said, yawning. You grabbed the material from his hands. "Not everyone can be as blessed."

A blush washed over Neteyam's face as he watched you stretch the seaweed, making it expand more than twice its size. "Now I just feel dumb," he said.

It was your turn to flatten your pointy ears against your head. You pulled your attention away from the material to touch his chest, stroking up his neck to caress his jaw. “Neteyam, you’re the least dumb person I know," you said. His face flushed with a soft lavender hue, his cheeks, and ears a deep purple color. “It was just an easy thing to forget. Plus," you mumbled out, wrapping the material around his waist and pulling him into your body. "I like knowing that I can help you solve your problems, even if you think it's something trivial.”

Neteyam’s hands flew to the side of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, Ma’Y/n. I truly appreciate your help." His response made you nip at his skin before pulling around to wrap the seaweed through his legs. “But no funny business." Your delicate hands cupped him through the material. “Y/n." He laughed out with a wide grin. “I’m serious. I’m meeting Ao'nung for a little extra training with my Tsurak. He’s not connecting with me like he should."

“I was just making sure it wasn’t too snug for my big man," you said. His ears turned a deeper shade of purple, and he glanced down at the ground as he tried to get a hold of his emotions. Neteyam blushed when you gave him a compliment; he couldn’t help it. You just seemed to have that effect on him. “But," you quickly changed the topic to bring up the seaweed to his hips, around towards his back. “Why do you think you’re having trouble with the bond?”

Feeling his heavy sigh against your chest, you pulled him up, and saw that familiar look in his eyes: homesickness. “I don’t know, Yawne. Back in the forest, bonding with an Ikran was easy."

Your head lifted up in pride as you spoke. “The youngest to do so." You wrapped the material around his tail, making the man stiffen in your grasp.

Neteyam let out a huff as you made your way back around towards his front, laying the seaweed nicely against his skin. “Exactly. So why is it so different here? I need to be able to be a strong warrior here. I need to be able to provide for you."

As you held the material in one hand, you cupped Neteyam's hand in your other. “Don’t sell yourself short, my love. You have no idea how much you provide for me. You’re the reason my planets even rotate,” you whispered. He pressed another kiss to your forehead as you kissed his chest. “Neteyam, you’re the only thing that makes sense to me in this world. I moved my life for you.” This had his amber eyes locked onto yours as you stared up at him through your lashes. His hands trailed down to your shoulders. “I wouldn’t do that for anyone,” you said, as he pulled you closer.

“I know, Yawne.”

"And remember what we promised each other," you said, looking up at him with a determined expression. You finished tying the material around his waist, and let your hands rest on his hips. You could feel his warmth radiating through the fabric, and it made you feel safe. "Once this is over-”

“We go back home,” Neteyam's gentle voice cut you off. “The forest is where I’d imagine teaching our kids everything I know, and I want to show them where I met the love of my life.” Warmth spread through your chest as you became overwhelmed with emotion. His words touched your heart, giving you a moment of bliss that will forever be imprinted in your soul.

“I want that too, Yawne. Trust me. I want that more than anything,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in close. You didn't want to be too sad about missing home because you knew in your heart that Neteyam would keep his promise to you. You both would return to the beautiful forest to start the next chapter of your lives: having kids. "Just think of all the stories you can tell our kids," you said with a smile.

Neteyam hummed against the crease of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His hand rested on the lower part of your back, holding you close. You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin as you spoke. “Imagine telling our kids how their dad wasn't only a warrior of the Omatikaya people, but also traveled thousands of miles to a new land, only to become a strong Metkayina warrior. Those are the stories our kids will cherish." You nudged your head against his so he'd look at you. His amber eyes held so much warmth as he towered over you, keeping you in his arms. You felt safe and secure in his embrace. "Until then, we just have to try to be the best of what we can offer," you said, feeling content and happy. You knew that with Neteyam by your side, you could face anything.

One of Neteyam's hands left the curve of your back to tilt your head up as he leaned down, keeping his lips centimeters away from yours. “As long as I get to tell them that their dad married the most beautiful, smart, courageous woman to ever exist.” That last part had you rolling your eyes, making Neteyam let out an airy laugh before pressing his lips to yours in a simple kiss. “I'm just telling the truth s’all," he said, smiling at you.

You kissed his lips again, feeling the warmth of his mouth on yours. You pulled away from him to grab a green decorative cloth. “Here," you said, and quickly wrapped it around his waist so a longer piece would cover his groin better. Neteyam looked down at the cloth, then back up at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“Thanks, love," he said, his voice low and husky. You felt your cheeks flush as you looked away.

"Now go before Ao'nung thinks that you're bailing on him and gets in a mood," you said, trying to hide your embarrassment. Neteyam chuckled and leaned down to kiss you again, his lips soft and gentle. You felt your heart swell with love for him as he pulled away. Neteyam laughed, his eyes crinkling up in amusement.

He reached out and moved a piece of braided hair out of your way. “He’s always in a mood.” His fingers caressed the small shells that you had in your hair before pulling away from you to start his pace towards the village. “I’ll see you later, my love.” You watched him go, feeling a sense of longing in your heart. “But you're right, Yawne," Neteyam called back to you. "There are some upsides to being here. I enjoy the way the seashells look in your hair." You smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You knew that there was beauty in your crazy life, and you were grateful for it. You turned and walked back towards your hammock to get a few more hours of sleep, feeling at peace with the world.

I have another Neteyam story coming up!

~ Caroline

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam imagine #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x you #neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully imagine

[drabblesandimagines]

You said it yourself for the request trope: "forbidden love of best man and bride" 😉 Of course, with who else other than LEON S. KENNEDY!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Forever Hold Your Peace

Female reader x Chris Redfield, x Leon Kennedy, angst Leon feels like he can’t breathe. There’s a phantom pressure around his throat, like any breath he takes in is barely skimming the top of his lungs.

It’s not the tie – he’s checked, loosening it several times before doing it back up again. He hardly wears a tie, it had never been his style, really. That, and too obvious to be used as a weapon against him in hand-to-hand combat.

Not that he’s expecting to get into a brawl today.

A heavy hand slaps down on his back, jolting him out of his train of thought. “You look more anxious than me.”

“Nah,” he turns and steps back, creating a bit of distance between him and Chris.  “You’re just projecting.”

“Maybe.” Chris approaches the mirror in two long strides and sighs. “You know what? I’d kill for a cigarette.” “Want me to go grab a packet?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, straightening his tie in the mirror. “I quit. Promised I’d be shot of it by the honeymoon. You could do me another favour, though.”

Leon lifts his arms wide, gesturing to his appearance. “Being your best man not count as enough favours for a lifetime?”

“Technically this falls into the responsibilities of a best man.” Chris squats down and Leon braces himself to hear the fabric rip - they’d spent an afternoon being fitted at a tailor, Redfield’s thighs and forearms were never gonna be accommodated off the rack – but it holds true. He stands upright, a silver giftbag held out in offering. “Could you take this to my bride-to-be?”

“Oh.” There’s the phantom squeeze again. “Don’t you… want to?”

“I can’t. It’s bad luck to see each other before the ceremony,” Chris shrugs, holding the gift bag out again in expectation, but Leon still doesn’t try to take it.  

“And you believe in that?” He scoffs as he puts his hands in his pockets.

“No… but I’m not jinxing anything today. It won’t take long – the bridal suite’s the floor above. Please?”

Leon sighs and accepts the gift bag at last.

--

You take a tentative sip of champagne to calm your nerves. It was the first moment all morning you’d been on your own – the room being a hub of activity since your alarm had gone off. The wedding planner had hit a snag with something or other and Claire had hurriedly offered to go and sort it in your steed.

This is it - in over an hour’s time you’d be Mrs Redfield. You hadn’t thought the day would ever come, but now, as you sat in your wedding dress that made you feel like a princess, sat at the dressing table in the bridal suite, you allow yourself to get a little bit excited. It had been a long engagement and you’d been fine with that, truly. What did a piece of paper saying you were husband and wife matter anyway? But Chris had returned from Romania, stoic and silent for a few days before mumbling in bed late one night that he wanted to start looking at venues. Soon after, a date was booked, a wedding planner hired, invitation cards sent out, food and wine tasting, a visit to a bakery when you’d smeared frosting on each other’s faces as you taste-tested what would be your wedding cake and, finally, bought your wedding dress – none of it had felt real. There was bound to be something that came up, a mission that would take him to foreign soil and mean the wedding had to be delayed.

There’s a hesitant knock at the door and you swivel on the stool, curious who it could be.

“Come in!”

The door opens, slowly, and a suited Leon S Kennedy walks in.

“Leon.” You hitch your skirt up to get to your feet, inexplicably feeling silly in the dress that had made you feel like a princess moments before. “Hi.”

“Wow. You look…” He trails off, breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.

“Terrible?” You tease, wanting to break the awkward silence.

“No.” He replies quickly, leaning back up against the door to close it. “You look beautiful.”

“Oh,” your cheeks prickle with heat at his compliment. “Thank you. You look great too.”

“Yeah, reckon I scrubbed up all right.” Leon chuckles with a shrug, before remembering the gift bag in his hand. “Er, here.” He straightens up and walks forward to meet you halfway across the room, holding it out.

“You shouldn’t have.” You accept it, your fingers brushing over his and goosebumps running up your arm at the contact. “Thank you.”  

“I didn’t.” He answers, abruptly, pulling his hand back and slipping it in his pocket. “I mean, I… There’s a card downstairs in the box. This is from Chris – he asked me to drop it off.”

“He did?” You can’t help the giddy smile that crosses your lips and Leon casts his eyes down to the ground – it’s not for him. You place the gift bag down on the table and pull out a small jewelry box from within, a notecard on top.

We made it, sweetheart. All my love, Chris x

You open the box carefully – scared of scratching off your nail polish – and find a simple silver heart-shaped pendent on a silver chain.

“What is it?”

“A necklace,” you hold it aloft in demonstration. “I didn’t get him anything, I didn’t even think to. Isn’t that awful?”

“You turning up at the altar will be gift enough for him, I’m sure.” Leon jokes, but he knows it lands flat from your polite laugh as you place the necklace carefully back in the box. “Aren’t you going to put it on?”

“Oh, erm, I don’t think I can, what with the veil and the hair, I’m scared I’ll detach something. Claire will be back soon anyway.”

Leon steps forward. “I can help?”

“Honestly, I’m sure she won’t be long.”

“I want to. Call it part of the delivery service.” His hand hovers over the jewelry box, awaiting permission.

“Okay.”

He picks it up, delicately, and steps right in front of you, before fiddling with the clasp of the chain. He’s careful as he holds both ends of the chain and reaches around your neck, impressed by how steady his hands are when his heart is pounding in his chest.

He withdraws one hand and hooks a finger under the chain, nestling it so the pendant sits just right in your decolletage.

This is the closest he’s been to you in years, your signature scent overwhelming his senses - of course you’d want to wear it on your wedding day – and somehow his hand is now on your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

He shouldn’t.

He really shouldn’t.

But he does, pressing his lips softly against yours.

For a moment, you reciprocate. Your hand automatically lifts to tangle in his locks before you regain your senses. “No.” You pull back, mad at yourself, mad at Leon. “No – this isn’t fair. You had your chance, you had multiple chances. You said you didn’t want a relationship.”

“I couldn’t give you this.” He gestures to your dress. “Not with my lifestyle.”

“I didn’t care about any of that!” Your voice breaks, tears burn at your eyes.

He scoffs, now defensive. “And look where we are – at your wedding.”

“No. Just because Chris did what you were never willing to do-”

“What, paint a target on your back?”

“Open up. Compromise. Literally anything.” And the dam breaks, tears trickling down your cheeks. It hadn’t even been a relationship, not in any proper sense of the word. Late night fumbles, broken promises, a note left on your pillow that he couldn’t give you what you wanted, despite never having the discussion.

“I couldn’t.”

“You didn’t even want to try!”

The door opens and Claire strides in, dressed in a vibrant red gown, tucking her cell in her black purse as you hurriedly try to wipe your face.

“Crisis averted and nearly time to head downsta… Leon - what are you doing in here?”

“Chris asked me to drop off a gift.” His tone is blunt.

“Y-yeah,” you sniff, hooking a finger around the chain to lift up the pendant. “It’s perfect, right?”

“Oh, he got it!” Claire squeals, taking a step forward to get a closer look. “He was so worried you wouldn’t like it.”

“No, I love it.” A rogue tear rolls down your cheek.

“Oh, sweetie, your make-up.” Claire fusses, heading towards the box of tissues on the dressing table. “Sit down.”

“Sorry.” You mumble, sitting down heavily on the stool. “I haven’t ruined it, have I?”

“Not at all.” She smiles, beginning to dab at the tear trails on your face. “Leon, shouldn’t you be heading back to Chris?”

“On my way.” He mocks a salute, before dipping both his hands back in his trouser pockets.

“Leon,” you call and he swings back round embarrassingly fast on his heels at your voice. “Can you thank Chris for me? Tell him I love it. And him.”

He nods and leaves.

--

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony,” the minister begins as you stand opposite Chris at the end of the aisle, your eyes flickering from the loving gaze of your groom to meet the best man’s icy blue eyes for a moment, your heart skipping a beat, “speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Leon clenches his fists.

-- Thank you for all your wonderful support, @porcelainseashore ❤️❤️

Masterlist . 1,000 followers event Comments and reblogs make my whole day!

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x you #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #ghostdogwrites 1000 followers trope event

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 8) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies (kind of)-> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, McLaren, bad jokes

Word Count: 4,277

A/N: I tried out some different writing styles this chapter and candidly, I’m not sure it’s my best work. There are more scenes from DR’s perspective and I found out that writing race dialogue is very difficult. I tried to stay true to the actual Abu Dhabi 2022. Please bear with me through this chapter, feedback of any kind is always appreciated. Please, thank you, and enjoy!

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

When you arrived at the paddock, Daniel was still distracting himself by taking pictures of literally everything, including the ground. You let him be though, no matter how silly it seemed. The last thing he needed was to psych himself out before the race. As you approached, the McLaren PR crew was already waiting with cameras to get content for the last Unboxed video of the season which was your cue to peel off.

“How are you feeling?” you asked hesitantly, making sure to keep an appropriate distance from your client.

“Honestly, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll feel different once the suit’s on, but right now I’m good.”

“You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?” He caught the seriousness in your tone and found it endearing you were being so protective of him. It seemed you were more nervous than he was.

“Actually, hold on,” he stopped walking.

“What? Is everything alright? Oh-” *click* “Daniel!” He laughed at your disgruntled expression as he lowered the camera.

“I’m fine, promise. I’ll see you after the race.” He gave you a polite pat on the shoulder as he began to walk away, but you grabbed his arm before he was out of reach and pulled him in for a big hug before you could second guess yourself. He didn’t think twice as he wrapped his arms around you. You quickly released him, reinstating the arm’s length between you.

“Good luck today, you’re going to do great,” you said as you composed yourself. He walked backwards continuing your extended goodbye, unable to look away from you.

“I know,” he said, with a cocky smile plastered on his face. *click*

You snorted, your stoicism overpowered by his charm. You waved one last time as a sendoff before he disappeared into McLaren hospitality.   

-

As usual with race day, it was a lot of hurry up and wait. Daniel exchanged helmets with Lando and Zhou, sat for photos with the team, sat for photos with the grid. He tried to take in every detail. He laughed when he walked in the garage and saw his mechanics donning cowboy hats embroidered with “yee-haw thanks DR” and the outline of him doing a shoey.

Everyone seemed to think he would be walking around as though he were attending his own funeral, but for the moment he felt he didn’t have much to be sad about. He needed a break – from the spotlight, from McLaren, from training, from racing in general, and there was no shame in that. In twelve hours that break would become a reality, and that was something to be very happy about.

When it came time to change into his race suit, he waited with baited breath for the garment to exert some kind of magical force over him. He stood in his drivers room waiting for the tears, or nerves, or something. Everyone told him it would hit him when he put the suit on. But he examined himself in the mirror, widened his stance and put his hands on his hips. Power pose. No, he was still the same Daniel Ricciardo, despite what people tried to tell him. And this was just another race.

It was less than ideal starting P13 due to a three-place grid penalty carried over from the Brazilian Grand Prix after his run-in with Yuki, but Daniel pushed aside all the growing frustrations as he waited eagerly for the lights to change, feeling his pulse sync with the idled roar of the engine. The few seconds before the race played out in slow motion, as they always did. The rest of the pressures of the moment faded away as he focused on what was in front of him, ready to react. He was at peace, and allowed himself to feel the overwhelming therapeutic emptiness. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

And it’s lights out and away we go!

He survived the first lap shuffle and chaos, but lost a position to Lance. There was still plenty of race left though, and his goal first and foremost was a clean race without a DNF. Making it through the first few clustered laps unscathed was step one. Once the pack started to disperse, he began his grueling climb back to the points.

Here comes Daniel Ricciardo on the inside of Schumacker, gaining a place back.

It was lonely for a while. He extended his lead from Mick, but couldn’t seem to fully catch up to Lance. Lance pitted on lap 14, as expected with mediums if going for a two-stop strategy, allowing Daniel to gain a position. It subsequently opened up the floodgates, others shortly following suit bringing Daniel up to P8. He knew he would have to pit eventually, but if he could just nurse this set a bit longer and maintain this position as long as possible, he had a shot to finish in the points.  

Lap 18, Daniel Ricciardo still hasn’t pitted yet.

Even in the last race, it shouldn’t have surprised him that McLaren would try to short stick him one last time. Good riddance he would be done with this circus in an hour. George passed him, as he expected in better machinery and on fresher tires.

He finally pitted on lap 20, switching to hards. The team did a great job with a 2.3 second pit stop but he came out in P18. He had a job to do, it was time to get to work.

Daniel Ricciardo, down in 18th place. Making some overtakes and having a bit of fun. Makes a lovely move on Kevin Magnusson going into Turn 9.

In quick succession, he picked off Mick and Bottas, Seb pitted, and somehow Alonso DNF’d. Before he knew it, he was back to where he started in P13.

Fernando Alonso has not had the best of luck, our first retirement of this evening. Mechanical failure. That is a real shame for him, real shame. Meanwhile, here comes Sebastian Vettel! Haven’t said that in a while. Very nice move on Pierre Gasly.

News at Alpine that there’s some water leak, that was why they had to pull Fernando in. He feels the unreliability there has cost him nearly seventy points during the course of this season. Since he came back to Formula One, well, the reunion with Alpine then Renault has ended in retirement. Sad for all parties. And this means that Fernando Alonso has been beaten by his teammate, Esteban Ocon. But I’ll tell you a bit more about that later, as Daniel Ricciardo manages to get past the Alfa Romeo of Zhou Guanou.   

He encroached on Alex, smelling blood in the water. Even though Alex nicked the wall, he maintained the position longer than he thought. He had to respect the work the kid was doing in that tractor trailer of a Williams. The track conditions were cooling as the sun set, making it difficult to regulate the temperature of the tires.

Daniel Ricciardo trying down the inside there on Alex Albon. Now you saw what happened in Mexico when he tried that on an unsuspecting Yuki Tsunoda and they came together, but this time around they managed to keep apart. But uh, for McLaren they need to start clearing a few cars here. Norris is seventh. Ricciardo out of the points. Albon now pits.

He wished he could have overtaken Alex properly, but he wasn’t complaining as he gained another position. The second stoppers continued, moving his way up to P9. He could breathe a bit now that he was officially in the points. But it was short lived as his friend, former teammate, and mentor had popped up in his rearview, more than two seconds behind, but quickly closing the gap. There were still fifteen laps requiring him to preserve the tires while defending his position.

Sebastian Vettel is gaining a bit on Daniel Ricciardo in tenth place. Ten laps to go.

He almost missed the second Aston Martin in his rearview as Lance passed both of them. He shared Seb’s frustration that they were the sacrificial lambs of their respective teams testing out the one-stop strategy. He was still in the points for now, but Seb was an admirable adversary and with only seven laps left in the race he would not take the position for granted. With officially one second between them, he had to push. They were both on very old tires, but Seb’s were younger.

The two leavees, Ricciardo and Vettel. Vettel’s closing in on Ricciardo, and he’s going to get him in the next lap or so if the current pace keeps up. Five laps to go in the Formula One season, 2022.

And oh my God, what’s this? Hydraulic problem for Hamilton, as you can see as Carlos Sainz passes Lewis who’s still stuck in seventh gear! This might be curtains for Lewis Hamilton this evening. He’s got it down into fifth gear – oh. Oh no, this is disappointing.

As was the nature of racing, he wasn’t going to question his adversary’s misfortune. With a mechanical failure taking Lewis out, he moved back into P9. He was so close to the finish line he could taste it, but Seb was still less than a second behind.

The final lap. He saw the fireworks go off for Max, but he couldn’t lose focus.

Daniel Ricciardo under immense pressure from Sebastian Vettel. This is going to go all the way to the wire.

There’s twelve million dollars on Sebastian Vettel trying to overtake Daniel Ricciardo here, twelve million dollars if they can get extra points at Aston Martin to see if they can get above Alfa Romeo in the Constructor’s Championship. Is it Ricciardo or Vettel? Nineth or tenth? Both drivers leaving as of the end of this season. Ricciardo potentially to go as a reserve driver at Red Bull. Sebastian Vettel waving goodbye to Formula One and giving us thrills and excitement right to the checkered flag! Is he going to get past Daniel Ricciardo? It’s going to be close!

Ricciardo takes that nineth place, Sebastian Vettel scores tenth in his final race! And well, what did he say? “Remember these times, they might not last forever.” Sebastian, thank you. The memories definitely will.   

Daniel's jaw unclenched to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in that moved his whole chest, shoulders relaxing. He barely had time to process what he had just accomplished when his engineers came on the radio.

“Yes mate, P9. Good job. Finished in the points. Good stuff, good stuff.”

“Cheers guys, that was, uh, that was fun at the end. Think we did well to hold him off, well done. That was good.”

“Great race buddy. Great overtaking, that was a proper Honey Badger show, that was good.”

He bit his tongue. He could only be so pleasant to the people who had diminished his confidence over the last two years. Having officially crossed the finish line of his last race, he would remain polite and cordial but didn’t feel the need to suck up to them more than he needed to.    

“Daniel, could I have Purple Default 64X. And if you could go back to Purple C1.”

He did as he was told, unphased by the short radio congratulations. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when a picture of his win at Monza last year popped up with the rest of the team. The memory of that day came flooding back and the feelings that went along with it. The triumph he finally felt. The renewed sense of hope for what may come with the rest of his tenure with McLaren. The Daniel in the picture had no idea he would basically be kicked out of the sport he loved so much in less than a year. He had no idea he would fall out of love with it, even as he was just starting to get his groove back.  

“That’s cool,” he chuckled. “That’s really nice, thank you guys.”

“Cheers buddy. It’s been an honor, Daniel. It’s been an honor, really great good two years.” He hated the lump he felt in his throat. “I know we haven’t always had the results we’ve wanted, but we’ve had some pretty good ones along the way. And uh, I think I speak for everyone on the team when I say how much we’ve all enjoyed working with you.” He swallowed thickly, praying no one had eyes on the front facing camera in the car.

“Yeah, appreciate your efforts. Thank you…Alright, it’s nice to finish in the points. Well done guys. Thank you.” He did his best to switch the conversation back to race at hand, taking away the focus of the gravity and finality of the situation. Looking at it in isolation, away from the totality of the last two years, it was a good race. He continued to drive and wave around the track, doing some donuts here and there, but the gestures felt empty.

“Ok, so into the pit lane, and when you turn the engine off then go to P0. Kill the car and switch everything off.” The back of his eyes began to sting. Switch everything off.

“Understood. Uh, alright guys.” There was so much he wanted to say but he was never good with words, especially not at this moment. “Thank you. I think you know…how much I appreciate your efforts over the last two years. So… thank you.” He tried to keep his tone steady, but felt his voice crack. “And thanks for this display, on Purple C64. Cheers.”

“Yeah, 03 we weren’t really able to use I’m afraid.” He knew the engineers were only talking about the mechanical configurations, but the words felt like a gut punch. They were done with him. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

The feelings he had waited for all day, the ones everyone expected, suddenly hit him like an avalanche. He wanted to get out of the car desperately, but couldn’t do so when he was a mess like this. It was probably the last time for the rest of the night that he would have any time to be by himself with just his thoughts. It was done – and he realized again after taking a few moments to compose himself, maybe for now that was a good thing. What was it Seb had said?

“There are a lot more important things than racing in circles.”

He jumped out of the car, feeling the impact of the gravel below his feet. He stretched his limbs, finally free from the confines of the cockpit and was hit by a wave of relief that washed over him. He was free from expectations, restrictive diets, constant jet lag. Free from McLaren. All he had to do was get into his ugly orange team kit one last time for post-race interviews. He knew he would be asked hard questions, about his past and his future, but he was ready. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and if anything, had many things to be proud of. You’re the only driver to have won in that brick of a car in the last ten years you constantly reminded him. He finished the season on a high, including a great race battle with Seb. He was done hiding, done minimizing.

So he went from interview to interview, unafraid to be honest with himself and the world. It’s ok to admit that he’s had a hard time the last two years, that he’s happy to be taking some time away from the sport and to take care of his mental health.

He slowly made his way back to the McLaren garage as he pushed through the crowd, dodging fans trying to get selfies and autographs, politely declining additional interviews and comments from strangers. In a sea of blurred faces, he spotted you. One of the mechanics had gifted you an extra celebratory cowboy hat and you appeared to be in deep conversation with one of them. Your hands moved around animatedly as you spoke, like they always did when you were passionate about something. The mechanic laughed, and he wondered what joke you had told or whether you had said something unintentionally funny. He found himself smiling, excited to get the answer.

The mechanic noticed him first and waved. He touched your shoulder and pointed in Daniel’s direction. You squinted as you searched the crowd with intense focus. Daniel’s heart nearly exploded when your eyes finally landed on him – you waved eagerly with the biggest, brightest smile on your face that put all the track lights and fireworks to shame.

The mechanic gave him a quick hug and pat on the back first, adding a subtle wink for good measure before walking away, seemingly aware of the need for the two of you to have your own space. For the second time that day, you engulfed each other in a warm, firm hug that perhaps lasted a beat too long. He liked how you perched on your tip toes to get your head as close to the crook of his neck as possible. He liked the feeling of your small, delicate hands on his back. He liked that he could smell your hair products, distinct from the scent of your perfume, sweet florals and jasmine contrasting accents of patchouli and bergamot. He liked you.

“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you, you were amazing today,” you gushed.

“Thanks,” he said, knowing that the flush he felt in his cheeks wasn’t from the race.  

“How are you feeling now?” you asked sincerely. He took a moment to think on it before answering.

“I’m not sure. Good I think, but tired.”

“That’s valid.”

“How was your day?” It was an innocent question, so he was confused when you laughed. He was just trying to make conversation. “What?”

“You just had your last race of the season and you’re officially getting out of your contract with McLaren tomorrow, and you’re asking me how my day went?” He shrugged.

“I’ve already talked about myself more than enough today. I want to hear about you.” Your laugh lines softened.

“Well, let’s see. I didn’t have to work, I met Usher, and I got to watch my friend’s last F1 race and he kicked so much butt. So I’d say it was pretty great.” His heart skipped a beat. Friend.

“You met Usher?” He glossed over the other stuff, unable to trust himself if you delved any further into the topic.

“Yeah, he was hanging out in the McLaren garage. Did not have that on my 2022 bingo card. But uh…” a sheepish grin grew on your face. “I don’t think he appreciated I kept dropping his lyrics in casual conversation.”

“Oh no,” he laughed, and the smile on your face grew.

“Y’know… just when I thought I said all I could say, he was like…yeah. And he also said -”

“Hold on let me guess,” he said between giggles. “You remind him of a girl he once knew.”

“You know…you would not believe all the things she put him through,” you said, joining him in laughter. He observed you playing with your hands behind your back, your chest puffed slightly, clearly finding great joy in your own corny jokes.

“Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll perform at the McLaren afterparty.” The words rolled off his tongue before he had the chance to think about what he was asking of you. It was one thing to go out with some of the other drivers offsite, but a McLaren sponsored event when you had been their adversary only a short few months ago was less than appropriate.

“You’ll have to let me know.” His heart fell a little, not missing the polite decline of his subtle invitation. He didn’t want to admit how much he truly needed you there. But he was on a roll with this whole honesty thing, so he bore his soul to you.

“I don’t want to go,” he said in a low voice, running an anxious hand through his hair. “I’m tired and I don’t know how I’m supposed to spend the night celebrating with these people. I can barely look half of them in the eye.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had begged for anything. He hoped his plea would be convincing enough, but you only gave him a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll be ok. Lando will be there, and there are plenty of people in your garage that had nothing to do with the decisions Zak or Andrea made. You still have people in your corner. Lots of them. And they want to celebrate with you.” He closed his eyes as you encouragingly rubbed the side of his arm, but finished with a firm pat. “Chin up. You’re almost done.”

Right. The race was only half the battle he would face today. Until the end of the day, he was still an employee of McLaren.

“Will you come pick me up if the kids at school are mean to me?” He always used humor as a defense mechanism, but he hated how much truth there was in the metaphor. You leaned in close to whisper your reassurance, a calm pleasantness in your shadow of a smile. You spoke slowly and deliberately.

“I will commit a felony and make it look like an accident if anyone is mean to you.” He was left grinning from ear to ear when you pulled away, your quiet resolve contagious as he felt his anxiety melt away. “You got this, and I promise I will celebrate with you after everything is signed tomorrow.” You extended your pinky, and he gladly linked his with yours in a solemn vow.

“Fuck ‘em all, yeah?”

“Fuck ‘em all.”

-

You sat in bed freshly showered, full body shaved, and facemask on. You felt guilty as hell sending your client off to the lion’s den with no support, so you had gone straight back to the hotel once he was out of sight. There was no need to go to the Amber Lounge or anything, not that you would even be able to get in without Daniel. Besides, you had your own personal Super Bowl tomorrow that you needed to be prepared for. You had ordered room service and shot off a few emails when you heard a knock. You checked the time – it was nearly midnight. You wrapped yourself in the cozy hotel robe for modesty before checking the peephole. To your confusion, but not surprise, you saw Daniel standing by himself in the hallway.

“Hi?” He looked up, admiring your frame in the doorway. You were just as beautiful in a robe and slippers as you were in a LBD and Louboutins. He bit his lip for a moment, clearly holding back a smile.

“Hi. Uh, I think you got something-” he trailed off, lightly brushing the tip of his nose with his finger.

“What? Oh! Fuck. Right.” You turned around to quickly rip the nose strip off your face. You winced, feeling the sting of the adhesive. You did your best to hide your discomfort and embarrassment with a smile when you turned back around. “Sorry about that. You’re back earlier than I thought.”

“Yeah. I figure I showed enough face for the evening. Plus big day tomorrow, right?” You nodded, unsure where this exchange was going as he fidgeted in place. “Also…” he looked around cautiously. “I didn’t want to get caught stealing this.” He pulled a bottle of very expensive champagne from behind his back, proudly presenting it to you. Your jaw dropped and morphed into a giant grin in spite of the arguably illegal activities that had transpired.

“You didn’t…For me?” You grabbed the bottle from him, feelings goosebumps form when your fingers brushed. “Wait. If I accept this, does it make me an accomplice or accessory after the fact?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know, you’re the lawyer. You tell me.” He took a step forward.

“Well. I’m not going to say no to a free drink I suppose,” you said, examining the bottle in your hands. He cleared his throat.

“I figured we could enjoy it after tomorrow – or, I mean, you could enjoy it,” he took another step forward. For reasons unknown, he seemed to lose confidence as the gap between you narrowed.

You looked back up at him, inspecting his condition. Perhaps he was a little tipsy, but he was far from being wasted which you were pleasantly surprised about given his apprehensions going into the evening. It either meant he wasn’t leaning on alcohol to handle his emotions, or he was taking tomorrow’s signing very seriously, or both. Whichever one it was, it demonstrated restraint and growth and you were proud of him for it. Admittedly, you had also been nervous leaving him to his own devices for the evening. You had wanted to go with him, to be there for emotional support. You had relied on the rationale that it was a McLaren sponsored event, but at this point the two of you had a consistent track record of blurring the lines of professionalism and friendship whenever you went out together. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him – you didn’t trust yourself.

But the man standing in front of you was composed and mature (relatively speaking, of course). Perhaps a little nervous, as you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. But nevertheless, even after the emotional, mental, and physical turmoil of the day, he stood before you with respect and poise. Yes, you trusted yourself with him wholeheartedly.  

You took a step back, opening the door wider.

“How about we enjoy it now?”

Tags: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

#fuck em all #FEA #daniel ricciardo #laws of attraction #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 #dr3 #daniel ricciardo x reader #danny ric #dr3 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #abu dhabi gp 2022 #lawyered #reader x dr3 #danny ric fanfic #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #it's not the last chapter #slow burn #making up my own Daniel content since we were robbed this weekend 💔 #i miss him #honey badger #formula one #f1 x oc #formula 1 #formula one fanfiction #daniel ricciardo x you

[nahoney22]

Hey! Hope you’re doing alright and hydrated ❤️ I have a request if possible…I’m a sucker for angst so was thinking how would any of the batch (your choice) would react dying in the way Aunt May died in Spider-Man NWH…like she was right for a second and then it just happened.

It’s ok if you don’t feel comfortable about it, Ty!

No Way Home - Readers Death

All Bad Batch Boys X GN!Reader

As the request says, boys reacting to your death like Aunt May’s in NWH

warnings: mentions of death of reader, swearing, blood, denial, major injury but not in detail, suuuuper angsty. ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN 🚂

authors note: very sorry for the delay nonny 💜

Echo

"That was a close call, too close," Echo breathes out, his voice laced with relief as he finds himself amidst the wreckage. You had just rescued him, albeit recklessly, but the danger had finally passed, and it was time to return back to the Marauder. What a mess.

"Tell me about it," you reply, forcing a short laugh despite the heaviness in your chest. As you approach Echo, you grow confused as his widened eyes catch your attention, as if he had witnessed something utterly horrifying. "Are you alright, Echo?"

He hesitates for a brief moment before rushing over to you, swiftly offering support as you suddenly collapse onto your knees. "Take it easy, cyare," he urges, his concern palpable. Confusion washes over you at the intensity of his worry.

"I'm fine, really. Just... need a moment to catch my breath, that's all."

Echo’s hand that was on your back comes forward and both of your hearts thunder at his crimson stained blood. “Is that yours?” You whisper, looking at his hand and tune up at him. But, his face said everything.

“We need to get you back to the Havoc. Now.” He had lost so much already, he couldn’t lose you.

“I’m fine Echo. I just need a second.” But your words were slow, laced with tiredness as your body starts to shut down. “Just a second.”

How many more seconds were you willing to give?

“I’m fine…. Aren’t I?” Your head tilts to the side as you look up at him, his eyes flooding with tears.

“Yes,” he rasps but his voice didn’t carry the strength of truth. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Just a few more seconds.”

And that’s all you could give him. He wanted a forever.

Hunter

Hunter caught a whiff of it before he saw it. At first glance, you appeared relatively unscathed, just a bit battered from the recent attack. As always, you mustered the strength to stand up and push forward. But the scent of blood hung in the air.

However, the moment you took a step forward, you stumbled, only to be caught by Hunter. "Tech, I need an immediate extraction. Track my location. Now," he urgently commanded, his words filled with anguish, leaving you perplexed.

"Why the extraction? I simply tripped, silly," you chuckled softly, your nose nuzzling against his—a familiar gesture between the two of you. But as you attempted to sit up, your body betrayed you, and you remained rooted to the ground. His gentle pressure on your side triggered a wave of panic. "Hunter, am I injured?"

"Yes," he replied softly, "but don't worry. Tech and the others will be here soon, okay? Just hold on."

"Why are you telling me to hold on? I'm fine. I feel fine!" you protested, emotions rushing over you, followed by a fit of coughing that caused you to cry out in a pained sob.

"Take it easy, my love, take it easy. You're going to be alright. I won't let you slip away. Never," he assured, his words filled with desperation.

Sadly, even his words couldn't save you.

He cradled you in his arms for what felt like hours, feeling helpless, lost, and consumed by anger. "Please, wake up," he whispered, gently stroking your cheek, his tears falling onto your skin. "Wake up."

Wrecker

"Are you alright, babe?" Wrecker rushes over to your side, forcefully kicking away the heavy debris that had engulfed both of you during the chaotic mission. It was just the two of you, both bewildered about what went wrong when the onslaught of rubble descended upon you.

Coughing, you nod while dusting off your eyes. "Y-yeah, I'm okay," you groan, joining Wrecker in removing the rubble that trapped your body. He assists you in standing, his arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you make your way towards the exit. But he abruptly halts as something warm trickles onto his glove.

Slowly, he withdraws his hand from you, desperately hoping it isn't what he fears. Unfortunately, it confirms his dread. "You, uh, you're bleeding quite a bit," he immediately informs you, flustered, as you stop and look at him, noticing the blood staining his glove.

"Oh," you manage to utter, but in that split second, you collapse to the ground. You believed you were fine, or at least you thought so, but witnessing the consequences of the mission on your own body triggers sudden pain.

"Fuck, are you okay?" Wrecker drops to his knees beside you, but it's too late. Just like that, you're gone.

"Baby?" he whispers, gently nudging your shoulder and placing his large hand over your cheek. "Hey, come on now. We have to keep going."

He's in denial. You can't be gone. It's simply inconceivable. The others hear him when he comms them, begging and crying and screaming your name. You left his life just as quickly as you fell into it.

Tech

With adrenaline still coursing through your veins after the attack, you and Tech find yourselves surrounded by rubble and debris. Despite the chaos, you can't help but chuckle at the mess when you meet up beside Tech. "Well, that was quite an eventful ride, huh?"

"Yes, but it shouldn't have happened. I'm uncertain about what went wrong," Tech muses, resting his chin on his hand in deep contemplation. However, you reassure him with a kiss on the cheek, conveying that worrying about it can wait and that it's best for both of you to make a quick exit.

But as you continue walking, a sudden surge of pain radiates from your stomach, causing you to clutch it tightly before collapsing to your knees with a thud. "Tech, I don't feel well," you manage to utter through the discomfort.

His face instantly fills with concern as he swiftly approaches you, crouching down to your level. "Let me quickly check your vital signs and see if we missed any injuries."

Tech retrieves his scanner and begins assessing you, but his heart feels like it's about to burst out of his chest, as if it's being stomped upon, when he sees the results. Your minds are hazy, too clouded to fully comprehend the situation, as he urgently speaks into his comm, likely calling for assistance.

His hands gently grasp your shoulders, guiding your head to face him, even though you struggle to rely on reading his lips. Yet, there's an undeniable sense of concern in his eyes.

"Tech, what's happening?" you whisper, your voice filled with both pain and confusion. Your eyelids grow heavy as an overwhelming wave of drowsiness begins to wash over you.

"You're injured. Quite severely, I'm afraid," he responds candidly, wrapping his arms around you as you nestle into his side. He does everything within his power to prevent any further damage from occurring.

"It's not that bad," you mutter, your head lolling against his shoulder. "I'm just a little sleepy. I need a moment or two."

"No," he shakes his head adamantly, his voice filled with urgency. "No, you must stay awake, my love. Okay?"

As your eyes close, you release a deep exhale. "Just a few minutes, okay? You can wake me up soon."

Tech's heartache intensifies as he witnesses the person he loves slipping away right in front of him. His lower lip quivers, his mind desperately searching for solutions, for any brilliant ideas that might help, but nothing seems to work. "Stay awake, my love. List all the stars, moons, and planets for me, like I taught you. You have to stay awake," he implores, his voice filled with desperation.

"I can't," you sigh dismissively, leaning into his chest. "I'm so tired."

"Please... please, don't leave me.”

Crosshair

"Why are you looking at me like that? Stop looking at me like that!" you exclaim, feeling uneasy under Crosshair's intense gaze. The mission had concluded, and you were both making your way out when he abruptly halted, fixated on your movements, as if witnessing a lifetime's worth of memories in an instant.

Confusion etches your face as you turn to him, repeating his name, but he remains motionless. It takes a shout from you to finally elicit a response.

"You're bleeding," he states firmly, dropping his rifle and stepping closer to you, causing your brows to furrow. You instinctively touch your head, finding a small trickle of blood.

"Well, of course I'm bleeding. A building just collapsed on us. It's just a scratch-" you begin, but he cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone resolute as he positions himself directly in front of you. He raises his wrist and speaks into his comm, urgently requesting an emergency evacuation.

"Crosshair, baby, I'm fine!" you protest, tugging on his wrist, urging him to keep moving. However, he remains steadfast, unmoving. Instead, a sudden wave of excruciating pain seizes you, causing you to cry out and clutch your side.

As you pull your hand back, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of crimson staining your palm. "W-what?"

Before you have a chance to collapse, Crosshair catches you in his arms. "Shh, it's okay. I've got you. The others are on their way."

"Crosshair, w-what happened? What's going on?" you panic, squirming in his grasp, only intensifying the pain.

The Marksman rarely experienced panic, but watching you in this state was unbearable. He felt utterly helpless, unable to do much except apply pressure to the bleeding wound. "Stay calm. It... it will be okay," he says, his voice wavering as he tries to reassure both you and himself.

"When can we go home?" you whisper, breaking the long, painful silence that had settled between you. He can't find the right words to say, so he simply holds you tightly, knowing that you're in shock and asking questions that may not make complete sense.

"Soon," he replies, his voice stiff, his lips lightly brushing against your forehead as he closes his eyes, feeling his heart shatter within him. "We'll go home soon."

Crosshair was never quite the same after you left for home.

masterlist

tags: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory y @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @agenteliix @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @imalovernotahater @s1st3r @by-the-primes @the-bad-batch-baroness @crystal076 @blustalker @the-good-shittt

#nahoney22 writes #bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch one shots #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #echo x reader #wrecker x reader #Hunter x reader #the bad batch #tbb

[isaaaxqii]

overthinking ₊˚ପ⊹ - gojo

summary : seeing gojo start to act differently, you go over to help him sort out his thoughts.

** : sfw, angst, fluff, jjk 0 spoilers !!

took me awhile to think of this😭😭 but my thoughts are also finally sorted out 🙏🙏 also idk if gojo still stays at a dorm in jj high during his teaching days but let’s just say he does lol

< 1.47pm >

as you walked through the hallways of jujutsu high, looking outside every window that you passed, you noticed gojo training with the 1st years out on the field. he had his usual smile on his face, teasing his students in any way he can, but most importantly helping them when they need it. however, you can’t help but feel like there’s something off about him.

it was just a few days after the death of geto suguru, and you could tell gojo was spiralling. though he was with geto during his last moments, he couldn’t come to accept his death. nevertheless, he tried to put on a smile on his face, being his usual silly and cheerful self.

therefore, nobody could tell that his mental health was getting worse. however, you were able to read him like a book, knowing what he’s feeling especially after significant events like this. you knew that he didn’t want to worry anyone with his feelings, and rather deal with them on his own.

despite that, you still had to check on him.

you knocked on his door, holding a thermos filled with soup in it, hoping it would make him feel better. you were met with a red eyed, disheveled gojo at the front door.

“may i come in?” you asked, before he steps out of the way to let you in.

his dorm looked messier than usual. believe it or not, his dorm was never this messy. he still tries to put in the effort in maintaining his dorm’s state of cleanliness, but with what you were witnessing you could tell something was very wrong.

you put down the thermos on the counter before following him into his room, sitting on his bed with him. there was silence between the two of you, not an awkward one, but rather a comforting silence. gojo seemed to have figured that you knew what was happening to him, and he couldn’t help but appreciate someone’s presence beside him during this period of time. that presence itself comforts him a lot.

“mind sharing what’s on your mind? gojo.” you spoke softly, slowly intertwining your fingers with his. he plays with your fingers gently as he figures out his thoughts.

where should he start? should he start from the time when he was beside geto, geto’s life draining slowly from his body as he says his last words, or should he start from the period after his death, when he starts to realise and blame himself for not noticing geto’s depression which had led him to turn into what he was.

he didn’t know how to explain his sorrow. all he could do was let the tears fall as he grips your shirt tightly, head resting on your shoulders. you placed one hand his back, rubbing small circles on it while your other played with his hair. he loves it when you do that, it was the best method to help him calm down.

“to be honest, i don’t know what’s happening to me. the longer i hold onto the memories of geto and i, the more i feel like letting go. but i can’t, because no matter how much i try, my soul doesn’t let me.”

you felt sorry for gojo. losing your best friend was hard enough, but he still had to put on a fake personality that contradicts what he’s actually feeling during school as to not spark worry in his peers.

you knew geto well too, being one of his friends during your student days alongside gojo and shoko. however, geto and gojo’s friendship was on a much deeper level, the pair being almost inseparable as they went on missions together, and mostly hung out with one another. sure, his death impacted you a lot too, but you’ve let go, knowing that he was in a better place.

“we used to say, “we’re the strongest” , but now only i can say “i’m the strongest” .” he mutters, sniffing every once in awhile as he wipes his tears.

you hugged him tight, playing with his fingers to help him calm down. he held onto your waist as he places his head at the crook of your neck, seeking comfort and love from the intimacy.

“geto wouldn’t want you suffering like this, does he? after all, he will care for you no matter where he is, and he definitely wishes only the best for you.”

you could sense gojo calming down at last, although he didn’t want to let go. you let him stay in this position for awhile, letting him rest on your shoulder. you will forever be gojo’s safe place, providing never ending comfort and care for as long as he needs.

after awhile, you finally got him to let go, and brought him out into the dining area of his dorm to drink the soup you had made for him.

“is it good?”

“tastes like home.”

gojo never wants you to leave him, ever.

both of my gojo fics are one comforting the other😭😭 i’ll think of something else soon 🤍

#jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader

[azrielwingspan]

DISTRACTIONS (AZRIEL X OC)- PART 2

Distractions is a collection of short stories whose main characters are Azriel and Nyra (OC).

It's established that there is some heavy tension between them (everyone suspects lol) and I decided to put into words a few visualizations I've had of the both of them just pining for each other, playing hard to get, flirting, a bit of angst, some fluff and overall just being HELLA CUTE OKAY.

Part 2 of the collections of short stories!! No specific reading order to be followed.

PART -1

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

Summary: An unexpected surprise during a mission injures Azriel and puts him in a foul mood. Nyra gets worried and tries to get information out of him.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, lots of tension, angst

"What happened?" Nyra asked staring wide eyed at the blood staining most of Nikolai , her best friends, leathers. Cassian had brought her up to the House of Wind only mentioning that something had gone terribly wrong with the mission.

"I don't know. It was a blur. Just..." Niko rasped shaking his head as if trying to clear his head. Letting out a deep sigh and holding his arm to his side, he shuffled towards his room passing by Nyra. "Let me sleep it off. I need to gather my thoughts. I'll speak to you tomorrow okay?"

She was about to ask him about his injuries but noticed Madja beckoning Niko towards one of the rooms turned into a temporary healers room. So she just nodded and gave him a small smile not wanting to delay his healing any further.

Standing in heavy silence, Cassian and Nyra watched Niko limp his way to Madja. She was hoping Cassian would bring up the other male that had gone on the mission but since he didn't seem to show any indication of doing so , she took matters into her own hands.

"Az?" she asked in low voice , not meeting Cassian's eyes instead choosing to keep her eyes trained on the healers door.

"In his room. Refused to answer as well. Locked himself in there and denied Madja's request to see him. He didn't seem as bad as Nikolai so I left him alone."

She let loose a small sigh of relief knowing that he was safe. Nikolai would be better by tomorrow as well. It could have been much worse, she told herself as her mind shifted gears and started conjuring up explanations for what could've gone wrong.

"You should speak to him." Cassian said breaking into her thoughts putting an abrupt stop to her theories.

"I thought he wanted to be alone?"

"He does...but something is off. I've seen him come back from missions in pieces and yet he would report to Rhys immediately. This is the first time he's just...off."

The concern she'd buried came back in full force until all she could think about was making sure he was alright.

She turned towards the staircase leading up to Azriel's room and set a fast pace. Almost tripping over the last stair, she came to a standstill in front of his door and hesitated.

Would he even open the door?

There was no time for silly thoughts. She had to make sure he was alright. Ignoring the hesitation and anxiety that was starting to drown her, she rapped firmly on his door.

She waited....and waited..... and waited some more.

Nothing.

She knew he was inside , the same way he knew she was outside his door. Knew that he was ignoring her. She ignored the phantom prick of pain that bloomed in her chest. Not the time to be selfish about her own emotions.

"Az....just let me take a look. Please." Maybe it was the weakness of her voice or the desperation towards the end because a beat later the door opened wide. The breeze from the open balcony doors carried the smell of blood, sweat and Azriels scent of night chilled mist and cedar.

Standing bare chested with a hand placed on the door frame, he looked at her with a cold face. "I'm fine." His voice was hoarse and carried a hint of barely restrained anger.

Her eyes roved over him checking for injuries and settled on his knuckles that were still stained with blood. The cuts on his face and chest seemed to have healed but he hadn't bothered to wash away the stains of red yet.

Eyes softening, removing the cold edge that had blazed through them , Azriel watched her extend a hand towards his free one. She was approaching slowly, as if giving him time to move away or slam the door on her face.

Cold fingers brushed over his knuckles lightly as she gazed up at him through her eyelashes "Let me help."

They stood apart, their breaths the only sound, on either side of the door. It seemed critical, that moment. She sensed that if she crossed the threshold into his room, things would change forever. He would be giving her a part of him that she would keep with her selfishly. She wanted it more than anything. She let all her emotions seep through her eyes, showing him the things she that didn't have the courage to tell him.

After what seemed like eternity, he moved aside letting her in. She released a breath she didn't realize she was holding and stepped over the threshold. She half expected sparks to go off and almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Clamping her lips shut, she directly headed towards the bathroom and filled a metal basin with warm water.

Azriel had locked the door again and was sitting on the floor in front of his bed with his head dropped between his bent knees. Nyra's heart clenched at the sight before her. What had happened?

Placing the basin on the ground, she sat next to him, delicately taking his hand and placed in on her lap. They stayed silent as she scrubbed the blood off his hands and his shoulders. He hadn't moved an inch, letting her maneuver herself around him. The sound of their breathing, the drip of water as she wrung the wash cloth and the brush of his skin against the cloth were the only sounds that surrounded them.

Once she was done with his arms, she shifted to place herself in front of him. Placing her palms on either side of his face, she lifted it slowly and sucked in a breath at the emotion in his eyes. Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court, who had mastered impasiveness had let his shield down. She saw everything and yet could decipher nothing.

He stretched out his legs, widening them further so that she could place herself closer to him. She tried to ignore the thudding of her heart against her chest. He kept his eyes trained on her as she gently but thoroughly removed all evidence of what had happened.

Neither of them failed to notice her heavy breathing or his fisted hands by his side. Neither of them failed to notice the thin thread of restrain they were holding on to. Neither of them failed to notice the charge in the air around them. Yet, neither of them acted.

"All done." she said with a breathy voice preparing herself to move away.

"Thankyou." he murmured huskily, his jaw clenching.

That was it then. That was that. She wiped down her palms on her pants and braced herself to stand up.

In a flash of a movement, Azriel wrapped his arms around her and she stumbled onto his lap bracing herself with her arms on his shoulders. His warm breath brushed against her lips, her heart thundering as her mind tried to catch up.

She wasn't looking at him. She couldn't. Absentmindedly rubbing small circles on his shoulders, she traced his Illyrian tattoo with her eyes.

Beautiful.

"Look at me." The command in his voice made her eyes shoot up and latch onto his, a spear of excitement striking her core.

"Why are you here?" he asked tightening his grip on her hips. The unexpected question shook her out of the daze.

"What?" she asked softly still confused.

"You heard me." Bringing a hand to her face, he pushed back a strand of her caught onto her lip. Nyra had short circuited. She didn't know what to focus on or how to focus for that matter. It felt like she had been dipped in cold water immediately followed by a hot water bath.

She was hanging onto her sanity by a thread. Fortunately, that thread cut off when Azriel buried his face in her neck and took in a deep breath. She arched towards him subconsciously , a soft gasp leaving her lips.

"I need you to use your words Nyra." his muffled voice commanded , his lips brushing her skin as he spoke.

"You know why." Her hands travelled from his shoulders to his chest leaving a trail of fire underneath her touch. Azriel held back a shiver. It was getting too much. The feel of her, the way she smelled, the sound of her voice....it was enough to make him do things he had only imagined in the dead of the night.

He trailed a line of soft kisses from underneath her jaw and felt her body press against his. The scent of her arousal hit him and it took every ounce of his willpower to not take her right then and there.

"You need to go." he said suddenly, pulling back from her. He woudln't meet her eyes. He couldn't. Nyra wouldn't respond. She couldn't let him hear the wobble in her voice as she tried to think of what went wrong.

So she just stood up, turned around and left.

PART 3

#azriel #azriel x oc #azriel x original character #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf #acomaf #fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #inner circle #cassian #cassian acotar #rhysand #rhys acotar

[acefiree]

𝗯𝗮𝘆! 𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 | bestfriends

Raphael ✷ x reader ( pining like idiots ) MASTERLIST

ᕦ(๏益๏)ᕥ: after a bad day at school, you hang out in the lair in hopes of forgetting about the events that took place, only to get into an argument with the hothead in red.

WARNINGS: tension, potty mouth characters, angst, argument, mentioning of assault

NOTE: this was a request from my wattpad ooffff

      "GIVE IT BACK!" I shouted as I chased Mikey across the common area of the lair, the orange-clad turtle cackling manically as he jumped the back of the sofa and somersaulting with ease, which honestly left me a little baffled for a moment with how simple he made it look.

It always amazed me how easy the guys made stunts like those seem, the years of ninjutsu training being a constant reminder of how amazing the four Terrapin brothers were. Though, right now, Mikey was on my shit list and was honestly about to be my least favorite Ninja Turtle.

"Come on, Sweetcakes!" He shouted with a silly grin, pausing only for a second so he could dangle my phone teasingly between his fingers, the device twisting as he winked at me, "You gotta be faster than that, Babes, see ya!" And with that, Michelangelo took his skateboard and zoomed off, my phone still in his possession.

I'm going to kill him! I was too busy staring up, eyes following the retreating terrapin, to notice when a certain hothead stepped out of the weight room. I was also too busy to notice just how close said hothead was.

"Dammit Michelangelo, if you don't give it back, I'm gonna—oof," I grunted, falling onto my back starfish as I ran into what I thought was a wall. A groan left my mouth, a harsh throb coming from my nose. I raised my hand and rubbed it, my eyes watering. "Oh man, that fucking hurt." I whined to myself.

After eating shit and promptly taking the world's biggest L – I laid there on the dirty floor of the lair, contemplating my life, when a pair of calloused hands suddenly grab onto me and I was pulled upward into a sitting position. Tears clouded my vision, blinking a few times as I tried to make out the red blob sitting to my right.

"Shit, Doll. Are you okay?" A moderately rough voice asked, sounding underlining concerned.

"Jesus? Is that you? I think I knocked myself stupid—fucking wall came out of nowhere."

There was a deep chuckle that came from Raphael, his hands aiding me as I tried to stand. I wiped away the tears in my eyes. I felt something wet above my lip, so I wiped it, only to cringe when I looked at my fingers and saw blood.

I blinked at it, face blank. "I think my nose is bleeding."

The terrapin placed a finger under my chin, turning my head upward so he could see, rough palm cupping my jaw lightly to keep my head in place. His eyes rounded, green gaze filling with concern. He sucked his teeth, his scarred lip shifting into a deep frown at what he saw.

"Ya feelin' okay? You wanna go see Don?"

Only when I pull back does my mouth curve into a soft smile, cheeks warming from the display of concern, and dare I say affection from my best friend. There was pain in my nose, but other than that, I knew I'd be fine. I should have been watching where I was going. This was the second time today I had gotten myself hurt.

I knew my expression dropped when I thought about what happened at school today, and my hand went to my sleeve-covered wrist, subconsciously rubbing the bruise hiding beneath the fabric. Raphael didn't seem to notice my change in mood, more focused on the blood smeared under my nose.

I cleared my throat, "Can you help me clean this blood?" I questioned, pushing my thoughts aside. I could worry about my arm later, right now, my focus was the fresh blood on my face.

Raphael didn't hesitate to nod, "Yeah,"

Now, all I expected him to do was find a paper towel or something and help me clean the blood. What I didn't expect was for him to pick me up, large arms scooping me up like a damn princess, into his broad plastron chest as he took me into his room quickly, obviously still concerned.

I shot him a surprised look, "I can walk."

He tilted his head toward me, "Nah, I gotcha."

This wasn't the first time Raph had acted like my Prince Charming and swooped me off my feet. Any time I got hurt, or he thought he could move me faster, here he came. Thick muscled arms ready to hold me close and take me anywhere I wanted go, like my own personal Turtle Uber.

Another soft smile slinked to my lips as he placed me on the edge of his bed, turning his shell to me as he stepped away to grab the First Aid kit he had stashed in his room. I knew I was practically mooning up at him, but I couldn't help it, I really loved this side of the burly turtle. He liked to play tough, but moments like right now proved how soft and caring he could be. As he turned back to face me, the Raph paused, noting the smile on my face.

He raised a non-existing brow. "What?"

"Thank you," I said instead of saying what I was really thinking.

He huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it, now c'mere."

I scooted closer to the edge of the bed, tipping my chin up to give him access to my face. He paused before he took a step closer, noting the fact he was practically towering over me now and it was about to be hell for him to reach my nose to clean it. With a deep sigh, and a roll of his eyes, the hothead sat the Aid kit down.

What's with the attitude? It's not my fault I'm so damn short. Maybe he shouldn't be so tall. Has he ever thought of that? Like I'm a woman—

Before I could even question Raph, I was suddenly lifted off the bed like a damn child and placed on the desk resting in the corner of the room. My hands snapped out, fingers slipped over the dibs and rough texture of his scaled skin, trying to steady my self as I locked eyes on green. I was now face to face with Raphael, and I swear, for a moment my heart seemed to pause in its steady beat. I felt a sudden awkwardness at our close proximity, and I did the only thing that any reasonable person would do in a situation like this with their best friend.

I booped him.

With precise and agile movements, my hand lifted with my finger pointed, poking him directly on the end of his snout. Raphael jerked his head back a little, eyes widening a smidge from not expecting that, and mouth popping open to say something, though no words came out.

So, with him shocked and me slightly amused, we slowly locked eyes. I watched with a suppressed grin as his piercing gaze went from mine then to the finger that was still pressed on his nose. He looked baffled I did that, and when I began to giggle, a look of something grew in the depth of his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Red! I couldn't resist – I've always wanted to do that!" My shoulders shook as I laughed, removing my finger to place my hand over my stomach. "Your reaction was so cute!"

Raphael was watching me with an unknown look, but as soon as the word cute left my mouth, his face shifted as if I had just offended his dead grandmother.

"I'm not fuckin' cute—wait—Ya think I'm cute?"

That's what I said? Right? I give him a look, calming myself so I'd stop laughing enough for him to actually clean my face. Raphael's face looked as if it were turning a shade darker and I wonder if that was a turtle's version of a blush.

"Well, yeah, I did."

He looked rather stunned, "Uh, oh...let's just get your face cleaned up, Doll." He brushed off my words as he grabbed the First Aid kit. My face fell. This wasn't the first time he brushed off one of my comments. And if I'm being honest, it hurt my feelings, making me feel stupid for even trying with him.

When was he going to see that I loved his stupid face?

"K," It was a clipped and short reply, one that he caught onto instantly.

He didn't comment on it though. Good. Because I didn't want him asking. Cause then I'd have to explain his aloofness hurt my feelings, and that I was trying to flirt with him. God, why are men so stupid sometimes? Especially hotheads like him.

I closed my eyes, so I don't have to look at him, breathing in through my nose to keep my mouth closed. I felt him gently grasp the bottom of my chin, a damp rag softly wiping under my nose to clean the blood. His gentle grip almost made me squirm. How could he not see the effect he had on me? I mean, everyone else could see it.

Maybe he did, and he knew. Maybe that's why he always brushed it off. Because he didn't feel the same, and he didn't want to reject me and ruin our friendship.

When he was done, I waited for him to remove his hand, but it never moved, his grip only tightened before I felt my arm get snatched into his grasp. Shocked and slightly caught off guard, I furrow my brows and quickly open my eyes. I nearly fall out by the look he was giving me now, and I almost pull my arm away from him when I see where he is looking.

"What happened to your wrist?"

It wasn't a question, and the low tone in his voice made me want to shrink back and hide. His face was taught into that miffed expression I've only ever seen him wear when arguing with Leo, or when he had a bad patrol. Then, when he looked at me, his expression changed, and I had to blink slowly to process it. His pupils dilated in the most alluring way possible.

I swallowed thickly, wondering if I should tell him what happened, or if I should take my chance and give into the urge to kiss my best friend right now, who looked so pissed and worried about why my wrist had a handprint bruised on it.

"Nothing," I quickly lied, trying to pull my arm away, but to no avail.

Raph's eyes snapped back to the purple and yellow fingerprints on my smaller arm, his hand practically swallowing limb, a quick reminder of just how much bigger he was than me. His gaze slowly lifted back to match my own and the breath in my lungs felt as if it was ripped from my body. Oh. Oh. He was pissed.

"Who did this?" He all but growled now and I had to stop myself from shying away. I didn't like when he got like this, but for some odd reason, I couldn't pull away. His gaze had me locked in with a vice grip, and all I could do was frown up at him.

Might as well tell him. He's my best friend. He deserves to know. "Some guy at school – we got into a small disagreement—"

"Who?" This time, his voice was a lot lower, and a dark look flashed in his eyes.

Against my better judgment, I told him. "J-Jason." I said before quickly adding, "It's okay though, I delt with it—"

Raphael frowned, "Were ya' goin' to tell me?" He asked, looking a bit hurt at the fact I was trying to hide it from him, "I don't want you seeing him anymore."

Not that I was planning on hanging around that asshole anymore, but the fact Raphael sounded so possessive when he said that made me frown and open my mouth to argue back. Though, when his hand that was still holding my chin shifted and slipped to cup my jaw, any words I had planned to say left me and all I could do was stare up at my best friend, my mouth slightly parted.

Raphael still looked rather upset, but with our proximity, his gaze trailed over every inch of my face. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but by the way his expression was slowly softening the longer we had a small stare off, the more I could guess he was feeling the same thing I was. And boy, was my heart hammering now.

My whole body went stiff as he leaned forward and I don't know what possessed me, I really don't, but I moved an inch closer to him and his grip on my wrist tighten only slightly as his other hand shifted, his thumb falling to the pulse on my neck and pressing in lightly. My heart paused when I noticed his gaze fall to my lips.

There was thick tension between us and all I wanted to do was kiss him, so he'd shut up and stop being so pissy. His possessive nature pissed me off and I wanted to show him he couldn't tell me what to do. And so, I did. My eyes fluttered shut as he moved closer and kissed me, the feeling of his lips making my head spin as I reached up with my free hand and cupped his cheek.

At my touch, he froze, seeming to wake up from whatever little daydream he was living in. Raph quickly pulled away and I instantly opened my eyes confused.

Why'd he stop?

The look on his face hit me hard.

Regret. Anger. Fear.

"R-Red?"

He put a foot of distance between us, his green eyes unable to look at me. He was breathing hard, shoulders tense. Is he mad? Why is he so upset? He was the one who kissed me. Well, we both did, but that's besides the point.

"T-that was a mistake," He groused out, unable to meet my gaze.

What? My heart felt it shattered into a million of pieces as what he said registered in my head. A mistake? Kissing him? It didn't feel like a mistake. I quickly hopped off the desk and stepped closer to the tense turtle, unsure on how to approach as I hid my wrist again.

"Red, what do you—"

"We can't do this," His voice rose, causing me to jump from how loud and unexpected it was. "You should go,"

What in the hell is wrong with him? What did I do wrong? Was the kiss really that bad? Was he really that mad because I hid a bruise? And he's never raised his voice at me before...There was tears in my eyes now and I knew if I spoke my voice would give it away. But right now, I didn't care if he knew I was crying.

Fucking asshole.

"It's just a bruise, and that kiss wasn't a mistake to me..." My voice wavered and sounded full of raw emotion.

His eyes snapped to me like autopilot, surprise written all over his expression with the underlying of frustration. But when he saw the tears streaming down my face, and the pure look of heart break in my eyes, his whole demeanor shifted and I could tell he wanted to say something. I save him from having to choose. My eyes dropped as I lower my head so my hair could shield my face from his view.

Without uttering another word, I rushed from his room, ignoring the soft whisper of my name from his lips. Fuck him. Fuck this. Fuck everything.

"Hey Babes, you still want your—whoa why are you crying?!" Mikey said, sounding rather alarmed. His little outburst grabbed the attention of his brothers and I mentally curse myself.

"Dear, are you okay?"

Damn, now Splinter was concerned. I was blocked by Mikey, Leo, and Donnie as Master Splinter stood on his little meditation podium in front of the water slide. Upon hearing all the commotion, I heard movement from the direction of Raph's room and I knew he stepped out. It didn't help I could sense his stare, his gaze always having that effect on me.

Not to make anything obvious, I wipe my eyes.

"I-Im okay guys, April called, and we got into a little argument – I have to go home. It's just a silly fight between friends."

My excuse was an obvious lie, because like, me and April were pretty close and rarely got into scuffles, plus Mikey still had my phone. though the phone he had was just my old back up, and never worked...but, I knew the guys and Splinter didn't believe the utter bullshit that just spewed from my mouth.

Mikey stepped closer, his usual happy demeanor gone and filled with concern. I had to blink a few times to register the look. He never looked like that, he was always goofy and smiling. But now he was looking at me like I just stole the last of his orange soda crush, and I didn't like that, not one bit.

"You promise, Sweetcakes?"

Oh god. Why did he have to ask that. Promises was one thing I took very seriously. And even though Raph just ripped my heart out like it was nothing, that didn't mean I wanted to throw him under the bus and embarrass him in front of his family—it's not his fault he doesn't like me in a romantic way. You can't help how you feel for someone. It's something that comes naturally, and he didn't love me.

I just have to get over it and accept it.

Plus, the fact I was hiding a bruise from him probably didn't help the situation. I knew how protective Raphael could be, which is why I didn't want him knowing about it in the first place. But the cat's outta the bag now, and I couldn't tell if he was mad about the bruise or the kiss.

I made the mistake of looking over to my right. Raphael stood there, eyes set on my face as an intense emotion danced in the pools of his gaze. In this moment, I couldn't read him. It was as if I were staring at a complete stranger. I quickly looked away, but I knew everyone noticed, yet acted like they didn't.

"I-I promise, Mike—I'll see you guys later..." I felt instant guilt as I promised the youngest. He was gonna be so upset when he figured out my promise was a lie. But I'll face that bridge when I have to cross it. For now, I just wanted to go home and forget this day completely.

Leo and Donnie quickly shared a look, while Mikey's face shifted into a look of disappointment. Splinter assessed me carefully, his paw coming up to rub his whiskered beard. I saw him glance in Raphael's direction, but he said nothing.

He looks back at me, "My child, If that is what you say happened, then we will respect it—you may leave if you wish, but Flower?—"

I hummed, letting him know I was listening.

He gave me the softest look I had ever seen from him, his obsidian gaze sending me a message I couldn't understand. "You are always welcome here—don't ever feel like you don't have a place within this family. We all love you, my sweet flower."

His words prompted tears to begin to fall from my eyes again and a hiccup left my mouth. Embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing. This was the first time in a long time anyone has seen me cry, and now I had a full audience. Everything that had happened to me today came back at full force and I couldn't help the tears.

"Wh-I-" I cleared my throat, wiping my eyes again as I looked at every one, even Raph. "I love you all, thank you...I'll remember that. Goodbye."

They all watch in silence as all but rush out the lair, little did I know, they heard mine and Raphael's argument.

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

THIRD PERSON POV

It was silent as they all watched the young girl practically run from the lair, as if she had a fire lit under her feet.

All eyes shift to the hothead across the lair, and he instantly went stiff under their gaze. He knew there was a possibility they had heard the little squabble. But at their stares. It only confirmed it for him. His heart was pounding, emotions battling in his consciousness at all the events that just occurred.

That was the first time he had seen her so hurt, so upset. She had never, in the time he'd known her, cried – and that is a pretty long time now.

Raphael felt his chest tighten as the image of her hurt expression flashed in his head, and regret began to web it's way around his drumming heart. He hadn't meant to hurt her the way he did. The thought of someone else – especially a human male – hurting her didn't sit right with him, and especially since she felt the need to hide it. Did she not trust him? The thought alone just reminded him of the deepest fear he had about their friendship. His biological make-up being the key to most of his anger.

Then there was the kiss.

He felt as though she didn't share mutual feelings with him. He had kissed her without asking – he thought he had fucked up the only friendship he cherished. When he yelled at her, he wasn't upset with her per-se, he was pissed at himself.

But like always, he fucked up. And like always, his big damn mouth had to go and make things worse.

"What did you do, Raph?"

Raphael's eyes snapped to his older brother, taking in the accusing tone as Leo asked the question. There was also a firmness behind it. The leader knew damn well what took place, he just wanted Raph to admit it.

The hothead shot him a smoldering glare, "I didn't do shit, Fearless!"

"Don't lie Raphael – don't act like we didn't hear everything." Now it was Donnie that had spoken.

It shocked Raph at how upset he sounded. Felling a bit defensive, he let out a grunt. "Back off. I-I didn't mean to hurt her. I didn't—she—I thought—" He struggled to get out a proper sentence, not knowing what to tell his siblings that were all looking at him as if he committed murder.

Splinter watched his son with a thoughtful look, he stepped down from his podium and walked towards the dojo. "My son, come."

Raph quickly looked in his father direction, his hard expression slowly dropping as fear twinged in his heart. He knew whatever punishment Splinter had, he would take it. He honestly deserved as much. Without looking at his brothers, he made his way into the room with his father.

Mikey turned to the others, his expression sullen. "Guys, I'm going to go check and make sure she made it home..." He was running out the lair before Leo could say anything.

Not like he was. He and Donnie were both shocked by their younger brother. The look on his face was so alien, they knew Mikey was deeply concerned for his friend. So, neither of them said a thing, allowing the orange clad turtle to go check on the girl. They knew he could help her better than they could...

...Raphael paused in the threshold of the door, his shoulders tense as he watched his father take a seat in a kneeling pose on the floor. Splinter motioned with a paw for him to come over, and waited patiently as the larger turtle did. Once he was seated, he began to speak.

"My son, what you said tonight must never happen again – do you understand?"

"Hai Sensei,"

The old rat noticed Raph wouldn't meet his eyes, and he could see there was an internal battle going on his head.

"Raphael, what troubles you?"

He was silent for a moment before slowly looking up, "Sensei—dad I fucked up."

"Explain."

Raphael took a deep breath in through his nose, "With her—she—I kissed her without asking. I-I thought I ruined everything. I felt ashamed. I told her to leave because I felt like an ass, and then she was hiding something—I didn't know..."

Now it made sense. Raphael had always been the most in touch of his emotions, much like Michelangelo. While Mikey channeled his emotions through kindness and compassion, Raphael expressed his emotions through anger and retaliation. It took the old rat master years to understand the anger his second oldest harbored, so he knew Raph honestly didn't mean to hurt the girl the way he did.

"You love her."

It wasn't a question. Raph just nodded.

"Then why are you telling me? You should tell her."

Raph was shocked, his eyes blinking. "B-but she hates me now—dad you didn't see the way she looked at me..."

Splinter shook his head, "No. but I saw the way she looked at you when she proclaimed her love for us—those words weren't meant for us, my son. Sometimes you can be so blind to the people in front of you."

Raphael didn't know what to say. He swallowed and looked down once again, his father's word resonating with him.

Splinter placed a gentle paw on his shoulder. "Give her time, she will be back. You can fix things then. But for now, give her space. You both are experiencing heightened emotions—talk when you are both calm and have thought over your words carefully."

He was right. Raphael thought. With a nod and a thanks to his father, he left the dojo, heading to the only place he knew he could channel his emotions.

The weight room.

MASTERLIST

#bayverse raphael #bayverse tmnt #bayverse leo #bayverse mikey #bayverse donnie #bayverse turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #tmnt x y/n #tmnt #tmnt reader #raphael x reader

[shadowbriar]

Anthony Lockwood - I Love You So

Pairing : (F/M) || Anthony Lockwood x TouchGifted!Reader Word Count : 5.7k. Damn I’m on fire this time. Warning : Mention of blood and injury. Angst. Possible OOC as I haven’t read the books. Not proofread. Synopsis : The ambition they’ve nurtured for years finally start to create a space between them, straining their relationship that turns what once were friends into colleagues. Notes : Inspired by The Walters - I Love You So. This song is very Lockwood coded for me, I recommend listening to it while reading. Please help and try to save Lockwood & co by using the hashtag #SaveLockwoodAndCo on social medias and don’t forget to vote for them on National Film Award 2023. You can check my friend Paulina’s tweet to see how. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Her fingers trace the writings on the thinking cloth, lips unintentionally curved into a smile whenever George's silly comment or Lucy's mocking remarks were visible. Their early bicker about their planning process replays in her head. She's always been one to easily record information in her head, no further recall or revising needed for her to proceed with their plans, but given her troublesome nights lately, supposed a late night go over with a cup of tea would be a brilliant idea.

“Trouble sleeping?”

She looks up, welcomed by smiling Lockwood who's leaning by the kitchen door, “Something like that.”

“Why didn't you come to the library?”

“Wasn't in the mood for a late night quarrel with you.”

She shot him a playful smile, earning a light chuckle that didn't sound like it was heartfelt. Just enough to let her know that he understood her sarcasm.

Lockwood steps in, pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting across her. She could feel his eyes trained on her, taking in every detail and admiring it as he wouldn't do it during the day. For whatever reason that might be, she wasn't sure. But it wasn't like he ever professed any feelings for her. For all she knows he might just be spacing out and planning something in his head completely unrelated to her.

He calls her name.

Not looking up to meet his eyes, she hums, “Hm?”

“We're good.. Aren't we?”

No, no we aren't, she thought. He might not notice it but the distance growing between them has been eating her alive. She wasn't sure when it started nor what exactly is the cause for her invisible wound, but something's changed between them. He would be there in the morning when they eat breakfast, would be there when they watch their late night show on the telly, but Lockwood has been anything but a friend to her. He's turned into a stranger she hardly recognise. There was a wall between them, one she couldn't climb nor break through, and it's maddening that she couldn't fix it or talk about it.

Because what exactly changed? She doesn't know.

“Of course.” She faked a smile, feigning her most believable tender tone “What makes you think we're not?”

Lockwood opens his mouth before closing it again, sealing it with a smile as if he thinks it would be better to entertain her lies, “Nothing. Just wanted to be sure.”

She nods, looking back down to the thinking cloth.

“Will you join me tonight?” He asks again, nervousness bleeds through his tone. This wouldn't be the first time he asks her to sleep with him, just to hold each other until the sun rises, but for some reason it feels much more nerve racking than the countless previous. Perhaps because for the first time, her answer might not be pleasant to his ear “We can discuss further about the plan. Maybe my rambling can help you drift to slumber.”

“Not tonight, Anthony.”

It's taken her every willpower to not look up and take her words back. She can imagine the disappointment in his eyes when she hears him let out a sigh. She's avoiding him now. Perhaps scared to actually feel the distance between them when she lays on his bed, no longer feeling the safety of his embrace.

“Alright,” He mutters as he stands and pushes his chair “Don't stay up too late, we need you sharp and alert for tomorrow's job.”

Again, she only replies with a nod.

When the doorknob lightly clicks, she lets out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding. Her eyes now avert to the door, where he was standing just a few minutes ago with that proud smile and tired eyes. He looks the same, the very same Anthony John Lockwood who'd caused them numerous troubles on the field, the very same Anthony who's ego seems to inflate whenever a rapier is at hand, the very same boy she's been madly in love with for years.

There were moments when she thought that the water flows both ways. When he would hug her first after winning a fencing tournament, or when he would hold her after a terrible nightmare, or simply when he would give her freshly cut toasts for breakfast. The little things one would not notice as something sentimental after years of growing up together. But she does. She notices.

Perhaps had even taken things too seriously when it might just mean nothing for him.

She lets out a sigh, running her fingers through her hair and rubbing her temples gently. It might just be nothing, she tries to convince herself, it might just be the stress of work for both of us. With the agency's growing popularity and demands of clients that never seem to end, perhaps all her troubles were just caused by it. That nothing is wrong between her and Lockwood, that there is no distance, no space between them.

—-

“Another massive win for us, I might say.” Lockwood says as the squad enters 35 Portland Row. His arm was around her shoulder as support, dried blood littering his left cheek from the early action of the mission, but neither the ache nor wound on his temple seem to wither his satisfied-self “The papers are going to have to write about us this time.”

Lucy groans as she tidies their rapier to the stand, “Keep me out from them, please.”

“Oh, but you're the star of this agency, Luce!”

Lucy dismisses Anthony's remark as she proceeds to ascend the stairs, visibly in desperate need of a warm shower.

“I wouldn't want to be involved too, thanks for asking.” George sarcastically commented with eyes still studying the locket they retrieved from the site. An ancient relic that would be his source of research for the weeks to come “You two would be enough of a punching bag for them to pick on.”

Lockwood turns to her as George retreats to his room, a happy grin still etched on his face, “Looks like it's gonna be us two again.”

“We can worry about the press later. You have a wound to treat first.” She replies as they begin to walk deeper into the house “And don't keep your hopes too high, Anthony. DEPRAC has a tendency to stomp on our dreams.”

Wincing slightly as he rests himself on the sofa, Lockwood watches her leave the room to get their med kit and a basin full of water. He could never get tired of this. Walking home after a successful mission, her tending his wounds that wouldn't be there if he would just suppress his impulsive-self, and listening to her scolds about how he acts like he's got nine lives on his sleeves.

But when she returned with her kit, the nagging that he's braced himself to face never came. She remained quiet, eyes locked on his wound. Not even a second spared to look into his eyes.

The cleaning process felt like a blink of an eye. Before he knew it she was already fixing the bandages back to the aid bag. His wound was cleaned, a thin layer of healing ointment lacing it. All done in silence, no lectures.

“Try to keep the wound dry when you shower, alright?”

Lockwood blinks. Nodding at her words as he tries to digest the silence they're in.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don't think so.” He answers.

She flashes a smile, standing from her seat. Without another word she exits the room, carrying the basin that is now slightly red from his blood and the aid bag. She spared no other glance at him. Silently returning the medical kit to the cabinet before entering her room and locking it shut.

Perhaps today isn't a big win after all.

—-

Having Lucy in the company has exponentially boosted their success. Such brilliant talent has brought them more accomplishment that it was getting troublesome for them to finish one mission to another. Lucy was truly Heaven sent, in short. The saviour to their dying agency and she could never thank her enough to revive Lockwood's dream back to life.

She understands the importance of Lucy's gift for their team and how the company is at it’s golden moment right now. Sure she and Lockwood are two of the most gifted agents there are, but with Lucy in the crew, the quartet was unbeatable. And it is obvious that Lockwood is determined to reap as much advantage as possible.

“I'm going to the grocery shop, anyone needs anything?”

It was a lazy Sunday morning. George making notes on the thinking cloth, Lucy trying to listen to their newest source, and Lockwood leaning on the kitchen set with his brows furrowed, clearly in a deep thought.

“I'll come with you.” Lockwood says as he picks up his coat “George, you said we need more teabags, right? Anything for you, Luce?”

The girl shakes her head, looking rather annoyed to have her focus broken from his question.

“I can go alone, it's not going to be a huge shopping trip.” She says as Lockwood comes to her “Really, Anthony, you can just stay and help brainstorm the plan.”

“I'm coming,” He insists with a light chuckle “What is it with you? Are you avoiding me or something?”

Yes, she wanted to say, I'm going out to have a breath away from you.

Lockwood opens the door, gesturing to her to come and ignoring her lack of answer, “Come on then.”

With a last smile and wave of goodbye to George and Lucy, she follows Lockwood's step outside of the house. The wind was blowing gently, sky clear and blue, the very perfect weather for her to take a stroll yet her mind couldn't help but to overlook such perfection and worry about the body walking next to her instead.

Lockwood's hands were buried deep inside his pockets. He was looking down to the cobblestone, as if there was some invisible stepping for him to step on. The creases on his forehead are a clear indication that his mind is occupied elsewhere. Almost as if he was mirroring her.

“So, uh,” He begins, trying to break the ice between them “What do you need from the shop?”

“Just some snacks and sweets.” She answers “You?”

He shrugs, “Maybe just a pack of gum.”

“Right.”

Lockwood nods, turning his gaze back to the road.

For someone who loves to brood in silence, Lockwood has always had her as an exception. She's the only person he could let his chatter-self loose, expressing all the most trivial thoughts he has, knowing that she would indulge them with a welcoming commentary or simply a warm laughter. The kind of laughter that makes you feel seen and heard. Her kind of laughter.

But after all her evident effort to turn him down, asking to be paired with George on their missions, declining his invitations to spend the night in his room or the library, and the most recent no-scolding-moment when she tended his wound, Lockwood couldn't help but to feel pressured on finding a topic to talk about.

“So what do you think about our last job?” He asks, forcing a happy smile as she turns to see him “A rather brilliant achievement, don't you think? With Lucy in our team, I'm certain our agency can be big in no time. Hell, we might have to start rejecting clients soon, can you believe it? We're lucky to have found such gifted talent-”

“Lockwood,” She cuts in, making him wince at the use of his last name instead of his first “Can I ask you a favour?”

He blinks, “Anything.”

“Let's not talk about work until we get back home, okay? Can I ask that of you?”

“Sure,” He nods “Of course, no talking about work for the rest of our shopping trip.”

She flashes a smile in gratitude, locking their arms together as a means of apology for stomping on his light. He smiles at her, a genuine one, before patting the back of her hand and continuing their walk to the grocery shop.

—-

The trolley wheels through the aisle as she scans for the particular brand of chocolate. She would certainly need a big bar of it along with a pint of ice cream tonight. For once after what seems to be forever, she finally cracked the code. The cause of space that has been growing between her and Lockwood has been found. What is left now is to find a way to solve it and to tell him about how they need to separate their lives with the job.

When he first told her about his dream of having his own agency, she was ever the most supportive and kind. Dropping her brilliant achievements at the academy, she was the first or perhaps second agent of Lockwood & co. Their talents were more than enough to ever become the elite team if they were in another agency, but since the company was still on its baby roots, finding clients was rather challenging. Things were getting better when George joined and even more brilliant now that Lucy is part of the team. She would have never expected his dream to be in the way of their personal lives.

Everything is just work, work, and work now.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

She turns to see the man, a wide smile plastered on his face. Almost as radiant as his yellow leather uniform, “Quill, hi!”

“Oh, it's been forever.” He says as they share a hug “Are you here alone?”

“Lockwood,” She replies “He's wandering around but with you here, I'm sure he'll pop up in no time.”

The two chuckles at her commentary. Lockwood and Kipps were always the cause of her nightmares back in the academy. The two boys could never seem to act civil, always bickering and hostile to one another, but when she's alone with either of them, they would act the most gentle as if she was someone they love dearly for.

A different kind of love from each of the boys, of course.

“How are you?” She asks, her expression turns to slight worry “Is it getting any better?”

Kipps smiles painfully, “Barely holding on. We've got to make most of what we have, don't we?”

If there were no bad blood between the two she would have offered Kipps to join the agency years ago. Having known him for years and to see just how brilliant he was, the way his techniques were always showcased whenever they have a fencing duel, it is no wonder that people hold a big expectation on his shoulders. He was promoted as supervisor in no time due to his proficient skills but with his talent slowly weakening, he needed someone to help patch this rather embarrassing fragility.

“Have you given it a thought?” Kipps asks with a gentle tone “I heard that Lucy girl is of great help for your team. Do you think you could finally help mine instead?”

“Quill–,”

“Kipps,” Lockwood says as he circles his arm around her shoulder, showing a rather possessive manner at the sight of them “What are you doing here? You're not stalking us, are you?”

Kipps snorts, making a disgusted face at him, “This is a public space, Lockwood. Don't flatter yourself.”

Understanding that their time has come to an end, Kipps flashes her a smile and walks away. He knows that Lockwood wouldn't give them another second to talk so unless he'd want him to know about his persisting issue, it was best for Kipps to find himself out of the scene.

“What did he want?”

“Nothing, we just had a chat.” She lied, pushing Lockwood's arm off of her shoulder and continued to wheel the trolley.

“About what?”

“About nothing of your concern.” She replies “You might never see him as one but Quill's a friend of mine, Anthony. We were just having a friendly conversation.”

Lockwood frowns at her dissatisfying answer. She's keeping something from him but whatever it is, he knew that poking about it now would be the recipe for a nightmare. Her sour mood hasn't watered and it would be wise for him to just let her be.

Besides, it wasn't like she'd leave him. Not for Kipps of all people.

“Can I ask you something?”

Lockwood turns to her, a loving smile decorating his face, “Anything.”

“How are you, Anthony?”

He frowns, “Splendid, how are you?”

“No, I mean, how are you?” She repeats, sighing in frustration to convey her true meaning “I don’t know anything about you outside of work anymore. What music do you listen to now? What book do you read? Do you even read still?”

Lockwood remains quiet, waiting for her to continue with her words so he would understand better.

“I live under your roof, see you almost 24/7. You’re the first person I see in the morning and the last I would bid goodnight to, yet I feel like I don’t know anything about you anymore.”

“That’s not true.” He argues, still not understanding the severity of their discussion “You know everything about me.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t you?”

“Stop turning my questions to me, Anthony. You know I don’t like it when you do it.”

His chuckle breaks, now pulling her for a tight hug, “Is that what you’ve been worrying about? That you don’t know me anymore?”

She remains quiet.

“If there is anyone that knows me down to my fibre, it would be you.” He continues, patting her head gently to soothe her “I mean, I suppose I have been too occupied with work but that doesn’t mean that you don’t know me anymore. We still share our meals together, watch our favourite shows and spend most of our time together. You’re still the one friend that knows me best.”

“I suppose,” She gives in “I’m just worried that this whole ghost hunting thing is burying our reality because I genuinely can’t draw the line between work and our lives anymore.”

“Well, our life is the agency, is it not?”

She shrugs.

“Hey,” Lockwood calls, breaking the hug and cupping her face to look into her eyes “You know me. I’m not a stranger to you, alright? You know what my current favourite jam is, what kind of tea I enjoy at the moment, and what colour of socks I wear the most. We’re still the same people as we were five, ten years ago.”

She smiles, nodding as she melts into his sweet words, “Alright.”

—-

"Anthony, I don't like this."

The group puts down their bags as they arrive at the mansion. Examining the place from the outside, she can already tell that whatever is waiting for them inside isn’t anything close to what they’ve encountered before.

“It’s still a couple hours till sunset but the energy is already this strong.” She told him, her senses heightened in fear “We’re not equipped to fight such a visitor, Anthony. Best we go back, rethink our plan, and maybe ask for assistance.”

“From who? Kipps you mean?” Lockwood asks with a bitter expression. He rubs his nose, a habit he does whenever he’s trying to tone down a brewing exasperation “Look, we’ve been through this a hundred times. The plan is foul proof, I can assure you. By this time tomorrow we’ll be crowding the sitting room, watching whatever unknown movie George picks to enjoy.”

“This isn’t about your ego or old feud with Quill, Anthony. There’s nothing wrong in understanding your limit and drawing the line. No shame in dropping a job we’re not capable of.” She tries to reason “Think about our safety.”

“You’re safe,” He insists, placing his hands on her shoulders for assurance “Nothing bad will happen to any of us. I’ll keep an eye for you, I promise.”

Not giving her another second to argue, Lockwood walks away and begins to help Lucy fixing the metal chain. The inside of her stomach flips when the wind blows. She knows that even for people who aren’t gifted, the atmosphere the mansion offers is nowhere close to the word homey. There’s something dark and cold, peeking through the windows and she could feel it in her bones that none of them four is strong enough to battle such power.

She walks to George and begins unloading their equipment. Her brows furrow at the sight of a strange item. A circular ball that looks like their salt bomb, only that it is heavier and bigger in size.

“Careful,” George says as he takes it from her hand with care.

“What is that?”

“A new bomb.” He answers “It has salt, lavender, and some other chemical thing inside that would explode from sudden force. Throw it to the floor and whatever visitor we meet would evaporate to thin air.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe.” She mutters, turning her eyes back to the mansion “I hope we don’t have to use that tonight.”

She looks back at Lockwood’s direction, trying to ease her worry by repeating his words in her head. Lockwood knows what he’s doing. They’ve been through the plan a hundred times, just like he said. Nothing will go wrong tonight. Everything is collected and under control.

—-

“Make it stop!” Lucy wails, closing her ears tight with her hands “Please, make it stop!”

“George, give us the chains!” Anthony yells as he tries to calm Lucy.

George quickly runs to their aid as she tries her best to fight the ghost with her rapier. She might not be the best there is, but she’s neck to neck as good as Lockwood and that should give her friends enough time to cast more protection for Lucy.

It hasn’t even been two hours since they entered the mansion and already the plans they came up with burned to ashes. This is more than just a case of an old abandoned house. The amount of type two occupying the building is enough to tell them that their client hasn’t been truthful. This place must have witnessed a mass murder, perhaps a cult sacrifice, to hoard this much energy.

“We need to find the source.” She says as she battles the ghosts “I can’t use my talent while fighting these ghosts.”

As if on cue, Lockwood came and began to fight the ghosts. He turns to her for a brief moment, “Go. I’ll protect you.”

With a nod, she walks away from her spot, running to the other side of the room. She places her hands to the walls, trying to get a clearer picture of what they’re dealing with.

The sound of screams and crying begin to fill her ears. There was so much pain and sorrow. This mansion has seen the worst of human acts, inflicting as much agony as possible to innocent lives. Her consciousness was slipping away, drowning in the torment that she is sensing and if it wasn’t for Lucy’s scream of cry acting as her tether to reality, she would have sunk in a ghost-lock condition.

“The blade,” She says as she finally gets the idea of their source “The source is a blade. An old one with a gold handle and Latin engraving.”

“Great work,” Lockwood praises her, his prideful smirk tugging on his face “George, prepare the chain net. Be ready to cover it.”

“How exactly are we going to find it? It’s pitch black here.”

Lockwood chuckles, “Well, use your flashlight, why don’t you?”

The three of them now begin to scour the place whilst fighting the ghosts coming in their direction. The screaming in her head gets louder as they come closer to the source, almost deafening her physically. Her stepping was getting unstable. Energy and focus drained out of her with every bead of sweat layering her skin.

“Stop!” She yells, dropping her rapier as the cries become unbearable “It hurts, please stop!”

“Oh, no,” George, who was closest to her, now kneels down and tries to bring her back to consciousness as he lightly taps on her cheeks.

“George!” Lockwood calls, panic seems to finally sink in as he watches her wail in pain “The source must be close, try to find it. I’ll protect her.”

Nodding, George begins to crawl away and look for the damned blade. His hands found what seems to be an old cabinet and began to rummage through. With very limited lighting and no idea of what the blade looks like, searching for a piece of steel through a locker full of metal items feels fruitless.

Scanning from one drawer to the other, George lets out a satisfied chuckle as he finally finds what they’re looking for. But before he could take it out and cover it with their chain net, a handful of ghosts headed his way.

“George, watch out!”

In the heat of the moment, George throws the chain net to the drawer, hoping that it would land and cover the blade, before throwing the new bomb to the ghosts.

To their luck, the chain net did fall on top of the source but due to the close proximity and the lack of understanding of just how big the explosion the bomb would produce, George was thrown out of the wall from the impact. Bits of broken wood scratch his skin and there was a big gash on his forehead. 

George was unconscious.

—-

Opening the keys to 35 Portland Row with a tired yawn, she put down her scarf and hung her coat by the rack. She’s been staying at the hospital for days, only returning home to take a shower and bring a new set of fresh clothes for George. Her body was aching. The scars on her skin from the previous mission are still fresh and hurting but none of it compares to the fatigue of worrying for George’s being.

The terror from that night still haunts her. How her head was filled with wails one moment to complete silence and darkness as George successfully covers the source. She remembers scanning the floor with her hands to find her flashlight, trying to get some light to understand their situation better, only to be completely frightened by the sight of George, lying unconscious with blood pooling around him.

“You’re home,” Lockwood greets, a relieved expression evident on his face.

She nods, not giving him an answer as she walks past him.

“How is he?” He asks as she gets to the stairs.

“Still unconscious but his vitals are stabilising.” She answers  “You'd know if you visit him yourself.”

“I want to, but I need to finish the report and paperworks.” Lockwood reasoned, following her behind like a lost puppy “Lucy's out at the library to do some research about our next mission. With George at the hospital I think we'd need more time to make our plans.”

She rolls her eyes, fist balling as she tries to hold in her anger.

“I was wondering if you could go to the DEPRAC office on your way back to the hospital and drop the locket? Inspector Barnes called and-”

“Anthony!” She yells, finally turning to face the boy who's now pale from her sudden outburst “Are you even hearing yourself right now? Sending Lucy to work on our next job, asking me to stop by the DEPRAC office, you being busy in your little library, do you not even care in the slightest for George? He's lying unconscious at the hospital for a work I've told you to drop about!”

Lockwood remained silent. His expression is hard and unreadable.

“I've told you that we didn't have the equipment nor skills to do the job. I've told you that the visitors are much more powerful than the ones we've faced before. I've told you to at least ask for help for the task and yet you've dismissed it all and look what it's brought us, Anthony!”

“Yes, but we did it, didn't we? We secured the source.” Lockwood answers with feigned optimism, giving her his unsure smile as he steps closer “We took a hit, sure, but it's not like George didn't know what he was getting himself into.”

She blinks at his words. Now taking a step back away from him as she tries to digest his answer, “Is that what you're going to say when each of us falls?”

His expression softens, “You know I would never let anything hurt you.”

“Yet here I am.” She argues, her poison laced smile evident “Hurt and wounded.”

Lockwood was at a loss of words. He remained silent, staring at her with his pleading eyes that silently screams for her to drop this and forgive his faulty words. But his silence served as nothing but a mere slap to reality for her that Lockwood was just a boy with a naive dream and no understanding of the risks he's committing the team to.

“I thought this was all I wanted.” She says with a volume just above a whisper, a pitiful smile plastered on her face as she tries to keep her tone steady. The cracks of her breaking heart is visible through her expression “You're everything I want, Anthony.. But I can't deal with your ambitions anymore.”

Giving him no chance to explain, she retreats to her room and slams the door, leaving him defeated in the hallway. The house feels colder now somehow. As if the silence wasn't enough to weigh his guilt even more. Lockwood knew that he messed up but never had he imagined that he'd ruin things this far. Especially not with her.

—-

Days have been slightly better now that George's discharged from the hospital. The kitchen is once again filled with their chatter but not nearly half as much laughter as before. The nightmare of wounded George still haunts her days and torments her at night. She would never be able to work with the squad as she did before. Something has changed in her and there's no turning back now.

Lockwood on the other hand has tried every possible way to talk to her but with every chance he makes to pursue her, she just has a hundred more ways to turn it down and avoid him. Her silent treatment was driving him nuts and it would be an understatement to say that he's desperate to fix it.

Now sitting in his study room, Lockwood turns to the door as he hears a light knock. She peeks inside with a slight smile, the most he's gotten after their fight a couple weeks ago.

“Can I come in?”

“Have I ever said no?”

She nods, stepping inside the room timidly. A piece of paper in her hand.

“What is it?” He asks with a warm smile, hoping that this would be the start of their reconciliation “What can I help you with?”

She looks down to the letter in her hand, sighing before handing it to him, “I wanted to give you my resignation letter.”

Lockwood stares at her blankly, not moving from his chair.

Gently, she reaches for his hand and hands him the paper. Lockwood's eyes were glued on her, trying to catch any trace of jest from the words she uttered. He prays for all gods out there to let this be a joke. Some cruel prank she's pulling on him as payback for his dickhead move for the past months. But as the ticking of the clock in the room grew louder, her playful smile never appeared.

“Why?”

“Anthony–”

“I promise to do better, I swear it.” He begs, standing from his seat and carelessly putting the letter away “I'll make better plans, I'll calculate each and every possibility there is and I'll listen to you better. Any input you have, I'll highlight it and make it work. Please, just– Don't leave. Don't leave me.”

She had to look away from his eyes before her fortress crumbled. Lockwood knows just when to put those big puppy eyes out and win her heart. But there's just so many times she could spare herself for him. There's just so many chances she could give and no matter how much she wishes and prays that this time would be different than the last, she knew that the damage done would still leave scars on them. An invisible one that could only be healed with time and space.

“Please,” Lockwood begs, seeming on the verge of tears “Name your price. Anything, please, just say it.”

“What I want you cannot give, Anthony.” She answers with a bitter smile “Because if you could, I know you would have given it to me years ago.”

“Just name it, please. Do you want a rise? Do you want to switch rooms? Do you want your name to be the agency's name? Because I can do that. We can just change the company's name to yours.”

A tear escapes her eyes. She knows that he was being genuine, that he was willing to give up anything to make her stay. But even with all he offers to give, Lockwood still couldn't see the one thing she desires of him.

And it's crystal clear to her now that he could never give the one thing she needs of him.

Placing her hands to his cheeks, she cups him gently and smiles, “You're going to be a brilliant agent, Anthony. Lockwood & co will be the best agency there is, I know it. I believe it.”

“Then why are you leaving?” He asks with a defeated tone “Why won't you be here with me?”

Because you won't love me the way I love you, she thought.

“Please,” Lockwood pleads “I can't lose you too.”

Pulling him for a hug, his dam finally breaks as sobs begin to echo in the room. He holds her tight, afraid that she would disappear if he loosens his embrace just a little. He would miss the sweet scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her body when he needed some comfort after a terrible nightmare, and her joyful laughter that always seemed to drunken him in bliss.

If only he would tell her exactly how he feels.

“You'll never lose me, Anthony.” She whispers to his chest, listening to his heartbeat before they part “I'm yours, always.”

↠ If You’re Going to Break My Heart

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood angst #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood scenario #anthony lockwood fanfic #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood oneshot #lockwood and co #lockwood & co

[fieldofdaisiies]

Azriel x Reader | Crazy Stupid Love

edited!!

type: angst warning(s): self-doubt, harmful thoughts, age-gap, Azriel is Reader's boss word count: 5.4k words summary: Reader is one of Azriel’s spies. Nesta has rescued her from Illyria and brought her to Velaris. Azriel has seen Reader’s potential and has asked her to become his spy. Slowly, he has fallen for her and vice versa. But both have difficulties accepting those feelings, especially since Azriel has doubts about him being Illyrian when you just escaped the Illyrian war camps, thinking you would be disgusted by his love for you. This is now the edited version of a request (where Reader is one of tge IC members' children) that caused incredibly much hate and uproar. Once again I can only apologise and hope you will like this story now better. Additional info, Reader is jealous of Gwyn in this, so Reader’s dislike of Gwyn stems from disappointment and jealousy. I love Gwyn’s character a lot, so these are not my thoughts and hence why I put some cute Gwynriel friendship into it. 

- all rights reserved - 

The shadowsinger’s thumb carefully swipes over your cheek, barely brushing the surface, his palm soft and warm on your skin, his touch gentle. You almost melt into it, your heart rapidly beating against your rib cage, reveling into the closeness of him. Your skin tingles, prickling. Not only where he touches you. Everywhere actually. Your gaze is trained on the ground, unable to look at him. 

Azriel. Shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court. And your boss—you being his best spy and that for quite some years now. So these feelings are…very, very wrong. You know that, but—

“Hm?” he questions, his voice barely above a whisper. It is the gentleness in it that nearly draws tears to your eyes, this side of him that hardly anyone ever gets to see. He lets this gentles, this soft and caring side show whenever he is around you. 

And that hurts, because even though, your heart beats for him, there will never be more between the two of you than…friends. 

And friends is already the most of it. You are his employee.

“I just felt dizzy all of a sudden. Might have been the heat,” you answer, warmth filling your cheeks. Azriel does not really seem content with this answer and tips your chin up with his thumb. You are forced to meet his gaze eventually, your heart pounding in your throat. You clamp your mouth shut, knowing that you first had to order your thoughts and only then could talk. 

You mind is a mess whenever you are around him. You have always liked Azriel a lot. He always seems to understand you, making you feel comfortable in what you do and say and think. Until it changed. Or not. You still feel comfortable around him, but now also really nervous and sometimes a little bit...shy. 

Azriel is just–Gods! 

He…you find it hard to breathe whenever you look at him. But now, now that your eyes clash with those of hazel, it is a sheer impossibility to form any coherent thought and to make your lungs fill with air. 

“I think you might not have drunk enough today,” Azriel says, a tint of reprimanding in his voice. You roll your eyes a little–yes, you are a younger fae, but you aren’t a baby. You are an adult and very capable of knowing how much or little you should drink a day.

The shadowsinger clicks his tongue and chuckles, the deep rumble doing something to you, making your toes curl. “What did I say about you rolling your eyes at me, little one?” Taunting laces his features when his gaze moves over your face, the corner of his mouth tipping up. 

Snickering slightly, you simply roll them again. “Well, sometimes, Shadowsinger, one can only roll their eyes at you. I am no baby. I can perfectly—“ “I never said you are a not capable of knowing how much to drink or you being a bay, I just realised that during training you drank nothing at all. And also not during lunch.” 

So he was watching you during lunch? Your mind plays silly games with you. Why would he watch you? To see if you are fit for work?

“So during lunch you had nothing better to do than watch me and see if I drink enough?” Your brow raises in challenge, eyes aglow when the narrow in on the shadowsinger. He cocks his head, smiling at your teasing words. Azriel leans back on the lounger and stretches his legs, then he folds his hands behind his neck. His onyx hair glow in the bright sunlight, his hazel eyes sparkling with challenge. 

“I’m just looking out for you. Training requires strength. But so it does require that you eat and drink enough and have enough power.” 

His explanation is not entirely what you hoped to hear, nevertheless you bow your head and force a small smile on your lips, knowing it does not reach your eyes. 

You know this is wrong, know that you should not feel…so much for Azriel. It is strange, odd, weird, twisted. But you cannot do anything against your feelings, you cannot force your heart to stop beating so frantically whenever Azriel is around, whenever he is near. It just happens, you just happen to have caught feelings for him. Feelings that you cannot suppress, nor do anything against them. 

You cannot stand the tension any longer, how close he sits, how his scent fills your nostrils —night-chilled mist, cedar and a hint of sweat— or how his warmth reaches your body, how his thigh touches yours. How often have you imagined situations just like this in the dead of night, staring at the ceiling in your room, fingers toying with the edges of the romance books you have been trying to read but soon lost focus.

“Can we just go back to training?” You don’t wait for an answer, standing in one swift movement that has you tumbling a little bit.

“Only if you drink. You nearly fainted earl—“ You snatch the bottle from the bench next to Azriel, roll your eyes and take a big sip. Actually you down the whole thing in a few big gulps.

Unsmiling the spymaster stands, shadows skittering around him. Azriel rolls back his broad shoulders and stretches his wings for a moment.

You find yourself gazing. Your throat works on a swallow when your eyes trail over the thin, leather-like membrane, the vein up to his talon. From Morrigan and Nesta you have often heard the rumors that wingspan says a lot about—

“Staring at wings is inapproiate, Y/N,” Azriel chuckles and quickly snatches them in.

“Sorry,” you whisper, sharply turning away from him. He could never see the terribly blush staining your cheeks. Internally you curse Morrigan and Nesta for telling you about wingspans. 

Heading away from Azriel, you decide to join the children of the High Lord and the general of the Illyrian armies, them only being a good century younger than you.  

You just have to leave, wanting to get away from the shadowsinger that still has your knees wobble. 

Baxton already frantically waves at you, a big toothy grin on his lips. “Feeling better?” he asks and you bow your head, smiling. 

They inform you that they, Baxton and Nyx, would do some one-on-one combat while Dorian trains with his father, Cassian, on the other side of the pitch. Well, then you would not train with them. Which leaves you with–

A shadow appears above you and you don’t even have to turn to know who it is. “Let’s do some kicking. There are still some…lacks you have to work on.”

You really want to kick backwards, knowing Azriel just said this to anger you because he knows that you fight much better when you are angered. And this again...that he knows you so well, makes the content of your stomach sour. He knows you somehow better than anyone else, like and and his shadows can read you perfectly, your actions, your thoughts, just everything.

“Well, then, master of kicking, show me how it is done.” 

The grin that spreads over your face is cruel and mischievous when you turn to Azriel, innocently blinking your eyes up at him. His nostrils flare and a snort leaves his throat before he tilts his head, motioning for the right side of the pitch. 

"Little one..." he growls lowly, reprimanding but also amusement in his tone.

Nyx and Baxton are already dueling, fully focused on each other when you start with kicking excises that Azriel has just shown you, trying to imitate them. 

“If you continue kicking like this you will twist your ankle,” Azriel comments and yes, has you roll your eyes once again.

“Then show me how to stand, you oh so great Illyrian warrior.” Mischief sparks in your eyes when you throw him a challenging look over your shoulder. Azriel chuckles lowly, lifting his hand to show you a vulgar gesture. “No need to get feisty, little one.”

“Don’t always call me little one!” Your cross your arms over your chest. Well, you are little indeed since that is what makes a good spy. You have an easy time hiding, and sliding through narrow and small spaces, ducking down behind bushes or fitting into cupboards and closets to get secret information.

Your breathing comes to an abrupt stop when Azriel closes the distance between your bodies, now standing mere inches from you, his brow raised while he looks down on you. 

Night-chilled mist and cedar envelope you, the heat from his body stretching out and warming your skin. You try to hold his gaze, looking up at him with colour blooming on your cheeks. This is…different. This feels different. This feels intimate. 

“You are little,” Azriel argues and grins. You want to hit him, but you find yourself unable to do so. It becomes a sheer impossibility to breathe, to think, to…exist. 

His grin is nothing but cruel beauty. He is beautiful when he smiles, but gods, when Azriel grins, it feels like someone pulls the rug out from under your feet.

A cool breeze tingles your skin when Azriel leans in. Maybe you are imaging it, but still fully on its own accord your head tilts, your lids slowly closing. Offer and permission.

You feel his breath hot against your skin, Azriel is mere inches from you, his own heart rapidly beating in his chest. You can hear it. You can feel it.

The shadowsinger clears his throat, probably remembering that you aren't alone on the pitch, and the warmth leaves your body the moment he leans back. 

“Let me show you how should…stand,” he breathes, voice hoarse and croaky when he wipes his palm over his face. He steps back, unease lacing his features, a deep shade of red on his cheeks. 

Is he blushing? Is Azriel truly blushing right now? you think, still in a sort of trance of what has just happened. Only moments later you can, with quite a lot of difficulty focus back on training.

But in all honesty, you still think about how close he stood, how his breath felt on your skin, how he looked at you on the training pitch, when you are sitting in your bathtub the following evening. 

Soon it is Starfall Eve and you are going to have this big celebration where the whole Inner Circle along their friends will meet up at the House of Wind, celebrating the travelling spirits. 

Half a century ago, Nesta brought you along to one of her Valkyrie trainings. She met you in the outskirts of Illyria –you worked there as a laundry lady– and you immediately loved the idea suggested to you: become a Valkyrie and leave the war camp you worked in. 

Nesta brought you with her to Velaris, and soon you were offered a room in the Town House as there was always a place for people who needed it.

During the very first training Azriel has already seen your incredible potential, having somehow stolen you away from Nesta somehow by offering you to work as a spy form him. And that was what you did. You became his spy. Neither you nor Azriel has had any intention of falling in love with the other–you hearts apperently have had different ideas. And so did your souls. Two souls hoping to finally being united as one. 

Your fingers absently brush over your calves, your gaze trained on the tub wall, imagining how deep the brown of Azriel’s eyes looked when he locked his gaze with yours. How soft his scarred hands felt on your skin. You have always felt most comfortable around Azriel–it was always him who you sought out when you needed someone to talk to, when you felt sad or lonely. It was always Azriel who was there for you, comforted you. And it was always—

“Are you done, Y/N?”

“Almost done,” you answer the young Nyx, whom, when he was younger, you have often baby-sitted, when his father and mother went to High Lord meetings and you did not have to work. 

But well, you aren’t even close to almost done, but Nyx seems content about the answer, mumbling something before shuffling away. 

You haven’t been finished in twenty minutes, but apperently everyone seems fine it, the High Lord also having taken quite some time longer himself, fixing his suit jacket and his hair.

You were in the bathroom for so long, doing your hair and putting on some light make-up. You want to look stunning, you want to knock the breath from Azriel’s lungs, even though you know how silly that sounds.

You aren't in the best mood, swinging the wine in your glass and releasing some air through your nose. Even two hours after arriving at the House of Wind you haven’t caught sight of Azriel, starting to feel slightly uneasy. Where the hell was he? 

You have been hanging around with Nuala and Cerridwen, your two colleagues, for quite sometime until Nuala leaves to talk to the High Lord if still everything is alright and so it is Cerridwen and you. Cerridwen blabbers non-stop about a new recipe she has discovered and you only listen with one ear, always trying to figure out where Azriel could be. He has to see you in this dress, you think to yourself when Cerridwen guides you through the kitchen to head towards one of the balconies. 

The door to the balcony is open and the moment you lift your gaze, your heart splinters into a million pieces.

That is where he has been the whole time.

Your brother is still talking to you, still happily chatting, but you cannot make out a single word that is said over the blood pumping in your ears. You feel your knees get wobbly, a large crack appearing in your heart when you see it, the priestess' hand, placed on Azriel’s lower arm. Tensions brackets your mouth, tears burning behind your eyes when you look at the shadowsinger’s happy, joyful face. He is laughing, freely, whole-heartedly. His eyes are glowing brightly, his posture so relaxed, so at ease. 

Your hands fall to your side, the crack in your heart increasing, making it hard to breathe. Your lower lip trembles and your—

“What do you think is better–chocolate or vanilla?” Gods…Furrowing your brows you turn to Cerridwen and look up at her. Your lips part when confusion laces your insides. You have no idea. No idea of what she has said, of what you should do now, of how you should act now. You do not want to stay here. Not with them getting all cosy and Azriel probably falling in love right in this moment. He seems so—

A loud, whole-hearted laugh draws your attention once again back to the spymaster and the priestess. Azriel is slightly bent over, clutching his belly, laughing. Gwyn is chortling loudly next to him, her beautiful teal eyes glowing, a stunning smile plastering her face. She is stunning. 

Tearing your gaze away from them, you look down on yourself. She is stunning, but you are…What are you? 

Self-doubt and self-consciousness flood your entire body and suddenly all you want to do is get out of the skin tight, midnight blue dress. You want to rip it off your body and put on one of those big jumpers that would hide every little curve and edge of your figure. You aren't as slender and stunning as Gwyn and you know that. Azriel probably knows that as well. He finds her beautiful, this is obvious, has become obvious during training in the past…years. He might have been in love with her for much longer, even before the two of you even met, and you simply did—

“Y/N? Still with me?” Getting impatient, the shadow wraith snaps her fingers in front of your face. You turn to her, taking in her partly irritated but also worried expression.

“Sorry, I am not feeling too well,” you whisper. “What did you say?” She waves you off and gives her head a little shake. “What is going on?” she asks, her eyes turning softer. She puts his glass of wine down and fully turns to you.

“Nothing,” you quickly answer. Too quickly probably. She raises one brow at you and parts her lips, but you are quicker.

“I am close to my cycle I believe. I am just not feeling too well. I will head home now. It is best if I get some sleep, the past days have been quite exhausting.” You put your glass down and wipe your hands down your dress, smoothing it out or rather getting the sweat that has started to form on your palms off. “Are you sure? The spirits are about to start travelling.” “Yes, more than sure. I have seen this quite some times already and it will be the same next year. I don’t mind missing it this year.”

And yes…yes, you run down all the dreadful steps that lead up to the House of Wind. You can barely feel your legs, the pain in your heart so much more potent and drowning out everything else.

The journey back home becomes a blur. Storming into your room you already started pulling at the strings of your dress, finally wanting to get out of it. This beautiful dress that no longer feels beautiful. It feels too tight, scratchy somehow. It has the same colour as Azriel's siphons, you have chosen it…Cauldron, yes, you have chosen it for Azriel. And now you hate it. Loathe it.

Your fingers claw at the laces and straps until you finally manage to rip the dress off your body and toss it into the room, stumbling over your heels while you step over it. You slip out of them as well, now just standing in your undergarments. 

You head for the bathroom, needing to cool down. You splash cold water into your face, letting a sob you have been holding in for minutes finally escape. The sound of it hollows of the walls, reverberates through your body and fully cracks your heart open. Your soul feels so empty, so dead, the feeling so dull. It feels like someone had cut a thread and now your soul would never find a way to happiness ever again. 

Your lower lip still trembles when you stare into your face through the mirror. Your knuckles turn white from how tightly you are holding onto the sink. Obviously he would never fall for you. You are a good three centuries younger than him. And most importantly, he sees you as his spy, as someone who works for him, but he would never see you as a love interest, as his lover. But why is there this connection between the two of you? Why has this connection existed since the very first day?

A single tear rolls down your cheek, landing in the sink. You stare at your eyes, those eyes that would never be as beautiful as Gwyn’s. You have always liked her, she was always like an older sister to you when your first arrived here and now she is stealing your…your…your nothing. You bring one hand up to smack it over your forehead. Azriel is your boss that is it. He is nothing more or less.

You hear your own breathy sob hollow in the bathroom when you wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand. You breathing is ragged, air wheezing in and out of your lungs while you try to calm down. This is all so stupid. You are so stupid, you think to yourself. How could you have ever had hopes for this male? How could you have ever thought that Azriel would really fall in love with you? With someone like you when there were all those stunning females right in front of him.

You grind your teeth together, trying to think of anything other than Azriel. Every thought just jumps right back to him, how he was laughing, how happy he looked. It still hurts, your chest still aches, your soul still feels dark and cold, empty. 

Your soul isn’t the only one yearning. Sadness is etched into his features when Azriel’s gaze longingly travels through the room. 

Weren't you at the celebration earlier, wearing that stunning midnight blue dress? The spymaster does not want to make his searching for you too obvious, but he can't really focus when an uneasy feeling appears in his belly. Somehow like he can feel your hurt. Like he can feel that you are not well.

“And so I kissed him back. And it was beautiful because he gave me a choice and made me feel loved and respected in my decision,” Gwyn finishes her sentence, giggling softly, eyes gleaming with bliss. Azriel turns to her, raising a brow.

Gwyn swats at his arm. “Don't tell me you haven’t been paying attention the whole time.” Reproach laces her features while she shakes her head at the shadowsinger. 

“I did listen to your story, Gwyn. And I think it is really nice that you kissed,” Azriel mumbles, shortly looking past the priestess, trying to make out if you maybe are in the kitchen with Nuala. 

“What is going on, Azriel?” The spymaster shrugs a shoulder, shadows curling tightly around him. “Nothing,” he breathes and Gwyn rolls her eyes. It reminds the spymaster of you. His heart cracks a little bit because he shouldn’t be thinking of you. He should never be thinking of you. You work for him, he is at least three centuries older and—

Not once did he allow himself to pleasure himself to the thought of you. One time he thought about it for a split second and then was grossed out about himself. He is still disgusted about himself that he thinks about you in way that is more than just…friendly. He likes you, but he also knows that he can never love you. It simply would not be wrong…everyone would think he has only wanted you to work for him for the purpose of wooing you or making you his lover. He saw your potential on the first day and knew that he wanted you as his spy as you were simply great. Still are. 

But then, unfortunately, the feelings came in, his heart skipping an extra beat every time he sees you.

But what worries him the most: wouldn’t you be disgusted by this whole thing? This old male drooling after you?

Azriel has been pondering about these questions for months, years maybe. There have never been these feelings until a few years ago. Until some time ago when you came home form a mission…hurt. You had several broken ribs, a bloody face and slashes over your abdomen. Azriel was out of his mind, his heart splintering when he saw you and he knew in that moment that things between the two of you have changed. That he was so worried and broken to see you like this because you are more to him than just his spy. 

To him you are the most stunning and breathtaking female Azriel has ever come across. 

But you work for him, you have escaped Illyria and the Illyrian brutes, loving you now, wanting to be with you, this could not happen. It would be too twisted, too strange, too out of place. 

You probably only see him as your boss, the High Lord’s spymaster, the shadowsinger. Because that is what he is, and only this and never ever anything else or more, Azriel thinks. 

Absently, Azriel rubs his scarred palm over his chin, only then realising that he still hasn’t answered Gwyn.

“Nothing, I think I am just tired. Thank you for your concern,” Azriel quickly says, meeting Gwyn’s worried expression. Her hand once again moves to his lower arm, squeezing softly. “What is going on with you lately, you always seem so absent. So…sad,” Gwyn queries, her eyes soft, empathetic.

“Nothing. It really is just that I am tired. Work was exhausting these past weeks.”

Yes, work has indeed been exhausting. But not because of the work itself, but because Azriel constantly found himself distracted. It was either you sauntering into the room with a big, stunning grin on your face, you giggling or talking while you were discussing missions, you teasing him during training, simply you! 

But there could never be more between the two of you. He could never openly love you and you could never have a relationship, that is clear. And that hurt. And it hurts so gods damn much, it nearly tears the spymaster's chest apart.

“Have you seen Y/N somewhere?” Azriel then asks, rather out of the blue as they have actually formerly been talking about his well-being. 

“Y/N?” Gwyn asks and spins around on her heels. She looks around in the living room and shrugs her shoulders. “She has been here earlier, maybe she is getting herself something to drink? Why are you asking?” A small smile blooms on her face, her feature not giving anything away though.

“Just curious,” Azriel answers and takes a sip from his drink.

“She is doing so great during training, don’t you think?” Gwyn chimes in. And yes, you are doing amazing during training. Gods, Azriel is so in admiration of—

“Yes, she does.” “I bet she would have been a great Valkyrie if you hadn’t stole her away to become your spy,” Gwyn chuckles and nudges the spymaster with her elbow. 

Azriel bows his head and smiles. 

You don’t show up for the rest of the evening, or night, which has Azriel going close to mad. What has happened to you? Mor, already slightly tipsy from the fairy wine, only says as much as you did not feel well and obviously Azriel blames this on him. Did he do something wrong?

He has noticed that you have slightly changed around him, sometimes acting a bit shy and nervous when he caught you looking at him. But mostly you still were your sassy, confident self, so what could be the reason for you leaving early? Did you really just not feel well? Were you ill?

Those questions still haunt him later that night when he is lying in bed, arms crossed behind his head, throat dry, a thousand thoughts coursing through his mind. He definitely doubted his rationality. 

You have left the Illyrian war camps only to fall into his…grasp. 

He could not allow that. This was twisted and wrong, he could not have those thoughts, those feelings, for you. Loving you, wanting you, aching for you was off limits. He could never allow himself that. Never.

The spymaster’s sleep is uneasy, he does not find rest, his heart beating sadly in his chest, his shadows unruly, finding not rest either. And many times he questions why he has agreed to family breakfast the next morning which would obviously be held at the Riverside House. 

“All packed?” Azriel lifts his gaze to you, heart sinking when he takes in the dark circles under your eyes. 

The words leave his mouth before he can stop himself. “Where are you going?” 

He has not sent you on a mission and has not given you a day off, so where the hell where you going? A crease appears on his forehead when he swallows the lump in his throat and he feels the High Lord’s gaze on him, but his eyes are trained on you. On you only. 

The spymaster watches your throat work on a swallow when you slowly meet his gaze. “I will take a few days off work, I am sorry for only informing you now. I am going to the Day Court to pay Elain, Lucien and Iris a visit.” Although your hands tremble at your sides, your voice comes out steady, strong. 

Through working with Nuala and Cerridwen and eventually becoming friends with them you have also befriended the middle Archeron sister, you would now pay a visit. You just have to get out–get away from here. 

Your gazes stay locked, something like sorrow glistening in Azriel’s eyes. Has he hurt you somehow? he questions himself. Your demeanor is so different. You don’t smile at him, you don’t tease him, you don’t even smile at your parents. 

Has he made a wrong move? Is it because he touched you during training? Did he touch you too much? Somewhere where you felt uncomfortable? Was this because in the war camps those Illyrian brutes did touch you as well and now he was nothing better than them?

Disgust fills him once again, the back of his mouth tasting bitter when he grits his teeth and averts his gaze. 

“Tell them all the best from us,” Feyre hums, finally fetching you both back to reality. You have been wondering if he has spent the night with Gwyn, if they went to his place together. Or if he kissed her goodbye. 

“I will. Thank you. Good bye!” 

By the huge bag you are carrying Azriel can tell that you will be going for longer. The sheer thought of not having you here does something to him. He swallows the rising sorrow, stuffing another piece of egg into his mouth, his gaze drawn to the table. 

You cannot look at him either when you leave the room, waving the others goodbye.

Days pass and you love it at the Day Court, but still you find yourself caught in thoughts many times. You bounce a happily giggling Iris on your lap when Elain slides into the seat next to you, narrowing her eyes and placing her hand on your shoulder. 

“And now you tell me what is going on with you.” It is a statement not a question. She is so good at that–probably one of her seer abilities, seeing right through you. In the past days you have acted like everything is fine, but apperently she has seen right through your lie.

“I think I am in love with someone…”

“Why such a grim face then? This is beautiful, love is beautiful,” Elain hums, her eyes soft and warm. You shrug and Elain rolls her eyes. “Ugh, don’t tell me that that he leaves far away or something and you barely have a chance to see him. Did you meet him on a mission?”

A soft laugh escapes you and you give your head a tiny shake. “No, that is not it. Really. It is all just complicated.” “What is complicated?” Elain asks, softly stroking your shoulder with her thumb.

“Love is complicated. Crazy, stupid love,” you grumble and focus back on Iris who happily taps her feet on your thighs, giggling and squealing. You lift and lower her once, squeezing her slightly, grinning. 

“You want to tell me who it is?” You shake your head again. “I appreciate this. And I am really thankful, but—“ “Nothing but, it is perfectly fine. You don’t have to tell me. Just know that I am always here if you need someone to talk to.” You turn your head slightly, smiling at the Archeron sister and bowing your head. “I know, thank you.”

For a moment you deliberate about just telling her, but you know that when you say it, it would just complicate things because then she would always question you how you felt concerning…Azriel. And you do not want that. You don’t want anyone to know.

You have no time to ponder any longer, the moment of being caught in your thoughts soon gets interrupted by Lucien strolling inside the room. Not only Lucien, there is tall figure, veiled in shadows behind him. Azriel’s presence immediately fills the room, your breathing halting when your gaze moves to his, meeting, locking. 

His hair is ruffled, disheveled, his eyes empty when his lips part. “We need to talk.”

Part II

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