#this is why sometimes i get the urge to stand in the middle of the road and just start screaming

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Ten — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Poor Rhys gets cockblocked. Cassian and Azriel come to blows. Realisations dawn on Az that he doesn’t know what to do with. Kaeda’s not very good with rejection. Reader receives some unexpected support.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Depictions of violence and injury.

The male’s hand has found pride of place in Rhysand’s lap.

Currently, it sits on his thigh, but the temptation to inch it closer — closer — to that sweet prize between his legs is a lusty, burgeoning one.

A shame, truly, that they’re currently fully clothed and in the middle of the busy mead hall.

Rhys chews and swallows a mouthful of his dinner, a smirk toying with his lips as he glances at his most recent sexual conquest.

There’s enough heat in that gaze to set the whole of Windhaven blazing.

Zakai is a very pretty male, indeed, with rich dark skin and thick, long eyelashes for days. His tempting appearance is most certainly exacerbating this current haze of lust that has taken over him as of late, driven by a preference for males. It changes every now and then. Sometimes he favours males, other times he favours females.

Whatever takes his fancy, there’s always somebody to warm his bed.

“I do believe,” the future High Lord purrs, “that you’re trying to distract me from my dinner.”

Zakai’s full lips kick up into a smirk. “Maybe I am.”

“How terrible.” He leans in closer. “Depriving me of a nutritional meal. What of my sustenance?”

Zakai also leans in. “I have something else you can wrap that pretty mouth around. I think you’ll find it to be more than adequate.” So boldly, as if no one else is around, he snaps out and drags Rhys’s bottom lip between his teeth.

Rhys makes a low noise, food all but forgotten—

But a kiss never comes to fruition as they’re shoved apart, and Cassian is slotting himself between them. “Your mother is here.” He steals Rhys’s plate. “Did you know?”

Rhys tamps down on the urge to slam his face into that food. “I would hope so, considering it was I who flew in with her.”

Cass hums. “We’ve been banished from the house for the time being.” He turns to Zakai. “Rhys will have to suck your dick elsewhere. May I suggest the pillory? He could even tie you up. Would be very kinky—”

“Banished?” Rhys quickly interrupts with a frown. “Why? Is my mother alright?”

“Roza’s fine. It’s Y/N. They’re having a serious talk.”

“About what?”

“Serious stuff, I guess.”

Cassian can be really, really frustrating sometimes.

Rhys shoots him a look that communicates precisely that. “What serious stuff? What did they say?”

“Roza called it girl talk.” Cass takes another huge bite, chews — and pauses in thought, “Do you think Y/N has been acting a little strange recently? Not her usual self.”

In all honesty, Rhys regrets not being around more, with all Y/N has had to contend with as of late. But even with him flitting between Windhaven and Velaris, he’s noticed a change.

A change amongst everyone, really. Something is…off.

“She has a lot going on. It’s hardly surprising.” He says, studying Cassian — the male is still in deep thought. “But I think there’s more than she’s letting on. I thought you would know more than I do, considering you’re around her more.”

Cassian says nothing. He chews and chews like he can no longer taste the food in his mouth, and he’s just giving it absolutely anything to do other than speak. Even Zakai shoots Rhys a look that says he’s not buying it.

“Shall I give you two some space to talk?” Rhys’s lover suggests.

Rhys dips his chin in gratitude. Makes sure that a little bit of heat still swims in his eyes — a suggestion of what’s to come, when he’s finished here. “I’ll come find you.” He promises.

Zakai winks. “I’ll be waiting by the pillory.” And with a shared laugh, he’s standing and strolling away.

Rhys turns back to Cass. He’s at least swallowed the mouthful of food, but there’s still a faraway look in his eyes. “What is it you’re thinking so hard about?”

Cassian just chews his bottom lip.

“Cass.” He gives a little kick to his leg. “If there’s something you know about Y/N—”

“I think I may have fucked up. Badly.” Finally, his friend turns to him. The severity on his face is…rare. Worrying. “Maybe I should have told you this before now, I don’t know. But…you see…Y/N and I…we—”

There’s no chance for him to complete the sentence.

Not as the mead hall’s huge wooden doors burst open, loudly and abruptly enough that conversation just ceases. Everyone turns. Azriel looms in the doorway.

He only becomes more of an intimidating figure as he gets older — anyone would be an idiot not to recognise that. But there’s something about him right now, like this, that has even the most steeled Illyrian warriors eyeing him cautiously.

Though his hair is wet-through from the snow, he’s not at all dressed for the cold weather. The casual, tight-fitting shirt and breeches will do very little to protect him from the brutal temperatures, and his tan skin is already pinkened where the icy air has bitten it.

But his eyes — his eyes are a blazing, churning inferno.

He looks huge in the doorway. Bigger than he ever has. His chest falls and rises heavily, and his fists clench at his sides. The firm set of his jaw is a warning. He hasn’t come here to play.

His boots thud harshly against the wooden floor as he storms in, and everyone watches, waits to see who the shadowsinger has a problem with, and what he’s going to do about it. He appears to have no weapons on him — a rare sight that only adds to the rugged, impulsive nature of how he looks right now. Like he forgot all else in his pursuit to come here.

What nobody is expecting is the way his dark, golden gaze zeroes in on Cassian. And the love that usually sits on Azriel’s face when looking at his brother has been replaced with something infinitely colder. Harsher. Angrier.

Dangerous.

Rhysand glances between them, recognising very quickly that something has occurred in his absence. He slowly rises from his seat.

“Az?” He says calmly. “You alright?”

No.

No, Azriel is not alright.

Everyone knows it. Cassian especially.

He’s staring back at his friend, and a thousand realisations pelt him that he genuinely did not consider before now. He’s got a terrible habit of acting first and thinking later. Of not looking at the bigger picture and considering every single person that might get hurt as a result of his actions. He doesn’t mean to be so thoughtless or impulsive. He’s gradually learning.

But as he drinks in the sight of Azriel, he somehow knows the source of his rage without it needing to be said. It never occurred to him before, but it does now.

Both he and Rhys have secretly speculated, over the years, whether something more might grow from the loving friendship between Azriel and Y/N. But time passed, and nothing came of it, and—and—

And with Kaeda on the scene, Cassian had assumed that no romance would be blossoming after all.

But that didn’t mean there weren’t still feelings there. Complicated feelings.

And in that moment, as Azriel stops at the table, the true weight of Cassian’s actions strikes him like a bolt of lightning.

He clears his throat, taking in the sight of him. Even his shadows are staying out of this. “Az—”

“Get up.” Azriel demands fiercely.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told—”

“I will not tell you twice, Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s eyes darken. “Get. The fuck. Up.”

Every single person is watching — waiting. Cassian doesn’t move.

And then he says quietly, “No.”

It’s not that he has any problem getting in a punch up with either of his brothers — Cauldron knows, it’s happened more times than any of them care to remember, where they’ve roughed each other up and resolved things quickly after. It’s just a method of Illyrian affection.

But this isn’t like that. This is hugely, frighteningly different.

This is serious.

Cassian is realising very quickly that he fucked up — not necessarily in the act, itself, of having sex with Y/N. They are both free, consenting adults, after all.

But if he’s guilty of anything, it’s of not thinking about who he might hurt with his decisions. And if he’d bothered to stop and think that night in the kitchen, he’d have known damn well that him having such relations with Y/N would be upsetting for Azriel. At the very least, Cass should have spoken to him first.

And that’s what he wants to do, now. Not fight. Not draw blood and leave bruises. Just…talk. Explain himself. Make it clear that he would never, ever intentionally hurt Az.

“I’m not fighting you.” He says, far quieter than his usual Cassian volume. “We should talk—”

Azriel’s lunging across the table and nipping that suggestion right in the bud. His fist goes flying so hard into Cassian’s jaw that his head snaps back. He barely has a chance to right himself before Az is throwing himself at him fully and knocking him to the floor.

“What the fuck is going on?” Rhys snaps, but neither of them seems to hear, and then the noise is picking up in the room and people are rising from their seats to get a closer look at the fight. Encouraging them with rowdy shouts.

This is no competitive brawl between friends. Through the gathering people, fists are swinging and blood is flying all over the place. Azriel is pummelling Cassian’s face over and over, and choked, angry words are leaving him as he does.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?!” The shadowsinger seethes, throwing another punch. “You know—” Punch. “Know how I feel—” Punch. “And you still had to go and do it.”

Too much is happening at once for Rhys to put the pieces together. All he knows is that this is bad. All he can do is watch.

And Cassian is barely fighting back. He’s not interested in returning the punches. He just wants to put a stop to this.

“You knew. I know you knew.” Az then grabs him by the collar of his tunic, and he’s lifting him and slamming him back down against the floor, so hard that the whoosh of air that leaves Cassian can be heard across the hall. “Fuck. You. Cassian. Fuck you—”

“You—” Cass coughs blood at him. “You had Kaeda—”

“Piece of shit—”

“Perhaps…if you hadn’t been…so blinded by your fucking lust…forgot all about Y/N—”

Oh, that’s entirely the wrong thing to say.

A snarl is leaving Az, or maybe Cass, or perhaps both of them at the same time.

What happened leading up to this point was mere child’s play.

The two of them utterly lose it, and Cassian forgets all about talking and allows his temper to take over, and the real fight begins. Rhys is shoved back, stunned, as people try to push closer. All he can hear is the sound of his friends’ punches landing on each other. With more blood drawn, the noise becomes a sickly, wet one that tells him this is getting out of hand.

He barges his way through people, trying to get to the centre of the fray, but a noise is stopping him in his tracks.

“HEY!”

Somehow, his mother’s voice is loud enough, commanding enough, to reach every corner of the mead hall and wash over each and every occupant. Something about the raw order in her voice has everyone stopping. Quietening.

Even Cassian and Azriel cease their fighting. But they’re still exchanging harsh words that are compromised through split lips and mouthfuls of blood.

“Fucking vile—”

“I’m—sorry—Az—sorry—”

“That is enough.” Roza storms into the hall, a hand resting on her belly. She’s well and truly displaying the façade of the High Lord’s mate; someone not to be argued with. “Stand aside at once.”

If it weren’t for the serious nature of the situation, there might be something amusing about seeing honed Illyrian males slink back like threatened animals. But Rhys can only watch as they back away from Roza and lope back to their seats.

“Mother.” He turns to her, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have no idea what’s going on—”

Roza holds a hand up, cutting him off. She turns to Azriel and Cassian, who are now just staring at each other like sworn enemies.

“Off the fucking ground now.” She snaps.

Azriel’s eyes shutter. He’s breathing heavily. He hesitates, wants to go against the order.

But even through the red mist of anger, he respects Roza too much to do that.

Heaving a deep breath, he pushes off Cassian. Rises to his feet.

Roza jerks her chin at Cass. “Help him up.”

Azriel makes an incredulous sound. “He can get up himself—”

“Help him the fuck up, Azriel, before I bash your damn heads together.”

Az clenches his jaw. It might be childish that he refuses to look at Cassian as he juts a hand out, but he doesn’t fucking care. Nor does he care that he puts the bare minimum of strength into hauling him up off the floor.

As soon as Cass is on his feet, he’s shoving Azriel away from him.

“There are so many things I could say to you idiots right now.” Roza snaps. “But I’m way too pregnant for this shit, and I want to sit down.” She angles herself to Azriel. “You — go spend the night at the dormitories. Clean yourself up and calm down.” She turns back to Cassian, to Rhys. “The two of you are coming back to the cottage with me. I don’t give a shit about who said or did what. Don’t want to hear a peep out of any of you. Do I make myself clear?”

This is just a teensy bit humiliating — the three of them bowing their heads while they receive a scolding in front of their fellow Illyrians. But they’re not stupid enough to argue it.

They are stupid enough not to respond, though, and that only pisses Roza off more.

“Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear.” She thunders.

“Yes.” All three males intone.

“Good.” She steps back, nods at Azriel. “You first. Go. Dormitories. Now.”

Azriel sends one last, scathing glance at Cassian before stalking off. He limps out of the doors and into the snow — a fact that leaves Cassian feeling just a little smug.

“Get that damn look off your face, Cassian.” Roza narrows her eyes at him, and he quickly corrects himself. “And get moving. If you don’t get your asses back to the cottage this instant, I’m locking you out. Understood?”

Cassian says, “Yes, Roza.”

Rhys mumbles, “Didn’t even do anything.”

Roza looks at him like she wants to throttle him. And that’s enough for him to straighten himself out and offer his pregnant mother his arm. She takes it silently. Cassian moves to her other side.

“When we get back,” she says quietly, “the two of you better start explaining what the fuck has been going on in my absence.”

Neither males are exactly sure.

But they’re both wise enough not to say that.

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The steaming bath is supposed to soothe you, but it does not. Nothing can. Not even Rhys’s sweater that’s currently swallowing you up and encasing you in his scent.

And when you traipse down the worn wooden staircase at the first sound of voices, you feel like crying all over again. You hope for Azriel — hope he’s come back, willing to hear you out. But stepping into the living area, that tiny shred of hope evaporates.

Conversation ceases, and Rhys and Cassian are looking up at you from their respective spots on the couch. Roza is pottering around the kitchen.

At the first glimpse of Cass, your heart drops.

It’s not that you’re unused to seeing him roughed up, but this is…this is different. He’s clearly not riding on the wave of his normal post-brawl adrenaline. He looks downtrodden, hurt — both physically and emotionally.

Blood streaks from his face. He’s cut and bruised in numerous places. A gnarly black eye is beginning to show itself.

He finds interest in his hands. Can’t seem to bear looking at you.

“What—” Is all you’re able to gasp out, before you’re hurrying over, perching yourself on the coffee table before your two friends. You reach out. “Cass…what—”

“Take a wild guess.” He mutters, still not looking at you.

You angle yourself towards Rhys, looking for an answer. And the fact that you can’t read his expression…it threatens to cut you open.

 “I don’t have a clue what’s going on.” He says with a shrug. “Clearly, nobody tells me anything.”

“Azriel did this.” You say quietly. It’s not a question.

“Yes. He did. Turned up at the mead hall and absolutely lost it.” Rhysand’s violet eyes flick between you and Cass. “And I’m guessing it has something to do with the two of you. Care to share?”

Your eyes shutter, because having to speak it aloud again might finish you off. But you suppose the worst has already happened. Azriel knows. You might as well share the truth with Rhys, also, and show him what a wretch you are.

You open your mouth, and unplanned words leave you in a rasp, “I shouldn’t have done it.”

Rhys studies you. “Done what?”

“We slept together.” Cassian finally speaks, wiping a strip of blood from his chin. “Y/N and I.”

You can’t stop your eyes roving over to Roza in the kitchen. Even though she already knows, a bolt of shame hits you all over again that she has to be present for this. Not only does she have far more pressing matters to worry about, but you simply cannot bear it — of all people you’d hate to let down, it’s her.

And she may have her back to you as she busies herself in the kitchen, but you know damn well she’s listening to every word.

Rhysand purses his lips, and he sits back, folding his arms. “Why?

“It just happened.” Cass shrugs. “Night we went to Fenlaros. Y/N was upset after the fight broke out, and I was helping her, and it just…happened. I didn’t think there would be a problem, given that neither of us are tied to anyone, but apparently it is a problem. Honestly, Azriel has no damn right. He’s been busy with Kaeda for months—”

“Yeah, Cass, but we also know it’s not a straightforward situation.” Violet eyes dance over to you. Back to Cassian. “Surely you must have known that he—”

“No, I didn’t, because like I said,” Cassian snaps, “he has no fucking right. What reason does he have to be angry with either of us? We don’t owe him shit. Y/N is a grown female. If she wants to fuck any one of us, that’s entirely her choice. It isn’t for him to dictate—”

“I don’t disagree, but—”

“Not to mention the fact that he’s passing these judgements from his cushy little high horse that he’s been fucking Kaeda atop of. I should have fucking given him hell back there, but I didn’t—”

“There’s more to it than that.” You cut in, every word slicing at you. You lower your gaze as the two males turn to you. “There’s…there’s more to it than you realise.”

Cass eyes you. And usually, he would reassure you — tell you not to put the blame on yourself.

He doesn’t.

He knows, just from looking at you, that he can’t.

He grits out through his teeth, “What.”

“Az has a right to be angry.” Your hands shake as you drag them over your face. Your eyes are red raw and sore from all the crying you’ve already done. “Not at you, though, Cass. It’s me. I…I’ve been so stupid.”

“Stupid how?”

“Azriel and I were engaging in sexual stuff, too. Okay?” The admission comes barrelling out of you. “It wasn’t planned. He asked me for…for some help. With his confidence. One thing led to another, and he and I were doing certain things. We didn’t sleep together, but we did other stuff. And it was all intended to help him approach such things with more confidence, but then I realised I wanted more, but he was interested in Kaeda, and I was upset and jealous and I just…I’m sorry. To both of you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Utter silence.

Your friends stare at you. Even Roza turns around.

You think you’d prefer to be shouted at rather than this. They’re looking at you like…like they don’t know what to do with you, say to you, anymore.

And then Cassian laughs. Not humorously, but a bitter, soured laugh. He shakes his head. “So, what you’re saying was that you used me to forget about your feelings for Az?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I…it wasn’t like that. Not intentionally. You and I both know that what happened between us was impulsive…and unplanned…and it didn’t mean anything. It just happened—”

“Because you were upset about what happened in Fenlaros! You instigated the kiss! Am I to believe it was a coincidence that you did so after Azriel had just put on some valiant display of starting a fight over Kaeda?”

“Cassian.” Rhys warns quietly. “Don’t shout at her.”

“I told you,” Your voice is beginning to break, tears heating your eyes again, “that I was feeling shit about myself—”

Another brusque laugh, void of humour, cuts you off. “And what of earlier tonight?” Cassian demands. “When Roza walked in on me kneeled between your damn thighs. What led to that?”

“That is enough.” Roza stalks over, folding her arms. “I’ve been staying out of this so you can have an adult conversation, but I will not tolerate that disrespect under my roof. I won’t have you talking to Y/N like that, Cassian. Or any female for that matter.”

Cassian slumps back slightly, muttering a half-hearted apology. To Roza, not you.

But he has a point, doesn’t he? Having laid it all out to you like this.

You slept together because you were hurting and wanting to chase away your feelings. And he may have instigated what happened earlier tonight, but you reciprocated — because you wanted to chase away your feelings.

You used him. And the second you truly realise that fact, you feel sick to your stomach.

Tears drop into your lap as your eyes shutter. Shame is ravaging your body like a sickness. You wish you were somewhere, anywhere, else.

Wish you were someone, anyone, else.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and the words alone choke you up even more. “I am so sorry, Cass. I don’t—I shouldn’t have—”

You can’t get out whatever it is you want to say. The emotion is simply too much. A pain that is both mental and physical. It’ll eat away at you until you’re skin and bones. A husk of yourself.

There’s movement, and then someone is perching beside you. Wrapping an arm around you and tugging you into their side.

“Y/N…” Rhysand murmurs, resting his chin on your head. “Azriel should never have come to you for practice to use on another female. Why would you agree to that?”

You know precisely why. But you will not say it aloud again. Choking out those words to Roza was enough. They’ll only hurt even more.

You just cling to Rhys, and you cry harder.

And after a moment, it’s Cassian who’s sitting forward and answering Rhys’s question for you.

“Because you love him. Don’t you?” He’s so quiet. Painfully quiet. “You love Azriel.”

Yes, you want to scream at him, I love Azriel, and I wish I didn’t, because even if Kaeda didn’t exist, I would be the last person in the entirety of Prythian that he’d ever look at. Me with my ruined wings and broken soul. What do I have to offer? What could I ever give him that would be worth sticking around for?

But all you can manage is a soft cry. Rhys holds you tighter as your shoulders shake.

Roza takes the seat that he vacated, next to Cass. Her hand strokes over her belly. “Mistakes have clearly been made.” She speaks. “But believe me when I say that these things are not worth ruining such good friendships over. Ever. The bond that the four of you have is so, so special. Your love and support for each other is beautiful. And so, you may be angry at each other for a while, yes — but it’ll be okay. What you have is far bigger than anger. It’s love.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” You whisper. “I would never.”

A deep sigh leaves Cassian, and he’s leaning forward. “I know that. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”

He shouldn’t be. You deserve it. Deserve worse.

“I still don’t think Azriel was justified.” He then says. “He’s being fucking irrational—”

“Yeah, well, he just needs to calm down.” Roza cuts him off. “You all do.”

“And stop sleeping with each other.” Rhys adds. “Definitely don’t do that again.”

Cassian’s response is a mumble, “No danger of that.”

You can only manage to shake your head in response. You’re so very, very tired.

Roza seems to read that on your face. “I think we should all head to bed. Y/N, Rhys, you both go on up while I see to Cassian’s injuries.”

You don’t need telling twice. As Rhysand pulls you up, he damn near supports your whole body weight. It’s like you’re boneless, slumping against him. Exhaustion suddenly smothers you and threatens to drag you down to the floor.

But as Rhys drags you past the couch, a hand catches yours. Encloses around it.

Cassian stares up at you. Looks beaten down and tired and hurt. But he squeezes your hand and says softly, “Love you, sweetpea.”

You run the risk of breaking all over again just by opening your mouth, but you have to get the words out. You swallow down a lump and tamp down on a sob, and you just about manage to return, “Love you too, Cass.”

His answering smile is weak, but he kisses your hand and let’s go. And then Rhys is pulling you towards the stairs.

You don’t deserve a friend like Cassian — someone who can be utterly furious with you but will still break through that anger to tell you he loves you, because you need to hear it. He’s so golden. More valued than he will ever realise.

And Rhysand is, too, as he supports you on every step of the staircase. His arms are firm around you, strong. He’s not letting you fall, even as he stops outside of the bedroom that you always share with Az.

“Will you stay with me, Rhys?” You find your hands bunching the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him with shameful desperation. “Please? I don’t want to be alone.”

He studies you, and then he’s nodding resolutely. “Of course, I will.”

The smile you manage to give him is watery and unconvincing, but you force it, anyway. You turn, opening the door — until Rhys stops you. Your tired eyes glance over your shoulder in question.

And the mischief that’s on his face is so normal, so Rhys, that it actually makes you feel better. That look he gets when he’s about to say or do something that’ll earn him a slap up the side of his head. One half of his mouth tilts up, and his eyes are glimmering.

“Out with it.” You say blandly.

“Just don’t make a move on me, okay?” He grins. “Let’s not go for three out of three.”

You scowl, stalk into the bedroom, but in all honesty, you appreciate the humour. It’s far better than the hurt.

And Rhys knows that — which is precisely why he made the effort to crack a joke at all.

When you’re tucked up in bed beside him, his scent and body heat lulling you to sleep, you find his hand beneath the covers and give it a gentle squeeze.

And like always, he squeezes back.

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There’s a new crack in the ceiling.

There were six the last time Azriel counted. A seventh one now cuts a jagged line that zigzags directly over his bed.

This bed, in this room, in these dormitories.

This bed, that Y/N sucked his cock in. That he kissed Kaeda on. With the lumpy mattress and scratchy blankets.

Azriel fucking hates this bed.

He hasn’t slept a wink all night.

He knows that morning must have arrived, because people are walking the halls and readying themselves for training and talking too loudly. Az would usually have been up before all of them, already out there training in the harsh cold. But this morning, he doesn’t move an inch. It has nothing to do with the good few punches that Cassian managed to get in during their fight. If anything, Az relishes the discomfort.

Y/N and Cassian fucked. It’s all he can think about. Plays on a constant loop in his head. The truth is an oily one.

And with that truth comes further truths. Realisations.

The first — that after a night of lying awake and turning it over in his mind, he’s not sure he even has a right to be mad.

Y/N owes him nothing. Cassian owes him nothing. Their choice to lose themselves in each other’s bodies should make no difference to Azriel whatsoever. No promises have been made — aside of Y/N’s agreement to help him build his confidence. And that was a favour. Nothing more.

But those two words — nothing more — keep bringing Azriel to his second realisation. One he’s so fucking stupid for not realising until now, when it’s too late.

It was more — to him. Right from that very first kiss in the mead hall, when heat had surged his veins and he’d been left wanting more, more, more. It was that want, that carnal desire, that had had him coming straight back for further experiences with her. It was easy to say it was all about practice. Easy to pretend it wasn’t the terrifying thing it was. Easy to deny the truth.

Right from that very first kiss, he wanted Y/N.

Wanted to keep kissing her. To touch her. To have her touch him. He didn’t want to experience those things with anybody else, and he didn’t want her to want anybody else, selfish as that may be. That need had overtaken him after one fucking kiss, and he should have realised it there and then.

It was why he’d reacted to Jonan’s flirting the way he had. Why he’d lost his shit in Fenlaros, when Thedis had been ready to drag Y/N off to a shaded alcove and fuck her senseless.

It was why, no matter how damn hard he tried, he couldn’t generate that same desire with Kaeda. Kaeda was not Y/N.

And Y/N was everywhere he looked. In everything he felt. Her heart and her beauty and her laughter and her damn good soul. Her strength. Gods, that unwavering strength.

And that was why he’d reacted so damn irrationally — because he wanted Y/N, and it was his own fucking fault that she’d fallen into the arms of someone else.

He sits up in bed, dragging a hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to go to training today, doesn’t want to face anyone—

But a knock lands on the door, and he tamps down on the urge to tell whoever it is to fuck right off.

“Azriel?” Kaeda’s voice comes from the other side. “I know you’re in there.”

He heaves a deep, long sigh.

He really, really does not want to face Kaeda right now, of all people.

But she knocks again, and he finds himself kicking his sheets away in pure frustration and stalking towards the door. He almost yanks it off the hinges.

Kaeda takes in the sight of him, a pinched expression on her face. “You look like shit.”

Azriel really doesn’t have the patience for this right now. His voice is cold, flat, as he bites out, “Why are you in Windhaven.”

“I came looking for you to see if you’d given any thought to my offer, and I found out you’ve been brawling with Cassian.” She reaches out, brushing her fingers over his bruised cheek. “What happened?”

“It was nothing.”

“Clearly.” Sarcasm laces her tone. She rubs her arms. “Can I come in? It’s cold.”

The last thing he wants is anyone in his space. And he should stand his ground, tell her that. But he silently steps aside.

Kaeda breezes in, tucking her wings in tight. She turns to face Az and folds her arms over her chest. “Well?”

Azriel kicks the door shut. “Well, what?”

“What of my offer?”

Her offer is the furthest thing from his thoughts. How can he think about a life in Fenlaros when his life in Windhaven is such a colossal fuck up? Not to mention he would never make such decisions without consulting his friends — his family — first—

But things with his friends aren’t in such a good place right now.

“You dumped all of that on me not even twenty-four hours ago.” He points out. “I can’t just come up with an answer for you.”

“What we’re trying to do is important, Azriel—”

“I have other things going on right now. Alright?” He snaps. “Your father’s vision is not my priority.”

Kaeda stills, balling her fists. “What things? Something to do with why you were fighting with Cassian, I presume.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Kaeda.” He pivots, turns his back to her. “I just…need some space.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Az thinks that perhaps she’ll actually listen and leave.

But then he feels movement behind him, and Kaeda’s front is pressing to his back. Her arms wrap around him. He tenses.

“I’m sorry for pushing you.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I just want what’s best for you.”

Az’s eyes shutter. Her touch feels wrong. All wrong.”

“Azriel.” She whispers, and those hands travel lower, towards the waistband of the low-slung cotton trousers that hang from his hips. “I can make you feel better.”

The second those fingers begin to slide beneath the waistband, he’s launching himself out of her arms. Stumbling back against the wall.

“No.” He breathes. “I—can’t.”

Kaeda stares at him. Purses her lips. “Why?”

Because you are not Y/N. You’re not her. You’re not, and never have been, who I want.

“I just…need to be alone.” Is all he manages to get out. “You…you need to go.”

The expression on Kaeda’s face tells him just how rarely anyone asks her to leave. He feels rude, and brusque, and unkind.

He can’t bring himself to care.

“…Fine.” The tone of her voice suggests that it absolutely isn’t fine. She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin. “I’ll go.”

Az inclines his head. “Thank you.”

She strides towards the door, coldness rippling off her. And when she wraps her hand around the doorknob, she turns.

“When you’re ready to stop being such a fucking coward,” she levels him a look, “you know where you can find me.”

Azriel doesn’t bother replying.

He climbs back into bed. And he relishes in the sound of the door clicking shut.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“You’re sure you want to do this today?”

Outside the chipped wooden door of your father’s house a day later, you’re frozen on the spot. Your breath clouds in front of your face, and you wish you’d accepted the coat that Rhys had offered you before leaving.

It’s tempting to turn around and go back to the cottage. Warm yourself by the fire. Hopefully fall asleep and avoid the pain in your heart, at least for a little while.

But you know that now is the right time to do this. Your father will be hard at work in his forge, and you’re free to gather your belongings and turn your back on that hollow home for good. At least it’ll keep you occupied for a while.

So you turn to Roza, and you nod. “I’m sure.”

“I still don’t think you should be doing this alone.” She eyes you cautiously. “Why don’t I send Rhys to help?”

“I’m fine, Roz, honestly. I think…I think I’ll appreciate the space.”

The space to cry and cry without anyone smothering you. You appreciate the love and support over the last twenty-four hours, you do — but being under the same roof as Cass…not knowing what Azriel might be doing, thinking, feeling…it’s all a bit too much.

So, yes, you’ll appreciate the breathing space.

Roza seems to finally recognise that. She nods. “Alright. I’ll come back for you in an hour.”

You lean in and press a kiss to her cheek, and then you’re turning and ripping the bandaid off before you can talk yourself out of it.

The house is as dark and dingy as it always has been. It smells musty. It feels soulless.

You step in and shut the door behind you, and you’re suddenly faced with every bad memory that has ever played out there. The shadow of your child self skitters around on bare, dirty feet, scrambling to get the fire lit, the dinner cooked.

The walls are painted with the hateful, malicious words that your father has spat over the years. Some of them have been punched in his many fits of anger.

This place will always be suffocating and evil. It will always shrink you back down to that tiny, terrified child who just wanted love.

You wrap your arms around yourself and drag your feet through to your bedroom. It’s just as it was before you left. Never feeling personal nor lived in. Certainly never feeling safe.

But you try to block all of that out and focus on what you came here for. The silence is welcomed, despite every little creak and bang putting you on edge, filling you with dread that your father might have returned home early. If you had to face a confrontation with him right now, you wouldn’t have the strength to defend yourself. You’d roll over at the first blow of vitriol.

And so, when you hear the sure sound of the door rattling open, your heart plummets. You freeze, hands bunching the tunic you were folding. Clear, confident footsteps approach.

Azriel appears in the doorway, and you don’t know what to do.

Perhaps facing your father would be easier right now.

He stares at you, his expression guarded. Where he would usually allow you to read his emotions, he wears a cool, flat exterior that even your keen awareness of him cannot get past. It’s deliberate — an act of self-preservation.

It makes you want to cry, just realising that he feels the need to do that around you. He never has before.

“What are you doing here?” You rasp, clearing a lump from your throat. “I thought…I mean…I would have come to find you, but I thought you needed space.”

Az nods. “I do.” He says. “I’m not…not ready to talk about anything yet.”

“Then why—”

“I made you a promise a long time ago.” He steps closer, stares at you in a way that is…quiet. You notice the dark smudges that sit beneath his eyes as he continues, “I made you a promise that I would be there for you, no matter what. And I didn’t keep that promise on Solstice, but I’m keeping it now. Even if I’m not ready to confront things yet…I won’t let you face this alone.”

After twenty-four hours of tears, you were certain you’re all cried out.

But tears fill your eyes again, and you feel like the broken pieces of your heart are breaking even more.

Azriel knows, better than anybody, how difficult it is for you to come back to this house. To face so many of the demons that you fought against with him by your side. He knows that you may have told Roza that you were fine, that you could do it alone, but you’re not, and you can’t.

You never wanted to do this alone. You just didn’t want to do it with anyone but Azriel.

And despite being hurt, and angry, and confused…he’s here.

“How did you…” You clear your throat again. “How did you know?”

“Was flying above. Saw you with Roza.” He strides further into the room and goes straight to one of the drawers in your dresser. “Are you taking everything?”

You’re still a little stunned, but you manage a nod. Your everything is, in fact, not much at all.

Az begins to fold your clothes and sort them into piles. He’s completely silent. Doesn’t even look at you. But a shadow reaches out and tickles your arm.

There’s so much you want to say to him. You also just want to throw your arms around him. Apologise, and apologise, and apologise.

But you’ll always respect his boundaries. He isn’t ready. So you return to the task and work just as silently as he is.

It’s a little while later, when he’s moved on to your small gathering of keepsakes, that he speaks again.

“Do you want to take this?” He turns to you.

In his hand is the little wooden owl carving he made for your thirteenth birthday. The damned thing has seen you shed so many tears, stayed clutched in your palm through so many nightmares. Never will you ever part with it.

“Always.” You answer quietly. “I’ll always take it wherever I go.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, and then he nods. Tucks the trinket into the pocket of your satchel. You watch the entire thing with a gaping wound in your heart.

“Az?” You murmur, and he glances at you over your shoulder. “…Thank you…”

His eyes catch yours again, and then he’s dipping his chin. “I made you a promise.” He says again.

You don’t speak another word to each other after that.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

As soon as you’re finished, Azriel is taking to the skies once more. He doesn’t bid you goodbye.

Roza appears almost immediately, and she takes in your scant belongings with a pitying look.

“Come, little dove.” She reaches for your bag. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

“Let me carry that, Roz.” You say. “You’re pregnant. And the cottage isn’t far—”

But your words cut off when, with a wave of her hand, she’s spiriting all of your belongings away, into thin air. You cock an eyebrow.

“We’re not going back to the cottage.” She says. “I’m taking you to Velaris.”

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

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #acotar series #acotar fic #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #reader insert #illyrians #rhysand #cassian #practice on me

[cosmiiwrites]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ lovebirds

·:¨༺ clingy!sinner! adam x clingy!sinner!fem!reader ༻¨:·

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ req/summary: PLS clingy!sinner!adam and clingy!fem!sinner!reader where Adam reincarnated in Hell and went to the Hotel for help and ended up falling in love with Reader and they just CAN’T STAY AWAY FROM EACH OTHER. Like, a concerning amount of PDA. Completely smitten, love-braindead, absolute lovebirds 😩. To the point where the other guests can’t stand them. If you don’t want to it’s okay! love your content 🥹 cw: fem!reader, cussing, fluff, partially suggestive a/n: accidently posted this in the middle of writing so i had to restart :') sorry this is also kind of late 😞 @callmerainman ty for the request <33 adam was fuming, he'd spawned in the place he swore he hated! he was stuck with all the filthy demons and sinners whom he'd used to slaughter. now he was one of them. disgusting, he thought. adam was left with one choice: the hazbin hotel. "fucking damn it." when he appeared outside the hotel’s doors, everyone (mostly vaggie) was urging charlie to turn him away. however, charlie being charlie, gave him a chance. why wouldnt she? this hotel was all about second chances!

adam definitely flipped vaggie off behind charlie’s back

at first, adam thought the hotel was boring; they had strict rules, most of which applied to him.

that is, until he set eyes on you. suddenly, he found himself actually wanting to participate in charlie’s “stupid therapy group shit” as adam would call it, because it meant that he’d be near you.

luckily for adam, you felt the same way. it wasn’t long before the both of you started dating.

and, oh boy, did you two make it clear.

you and adam were on each other 25/8, doesnt matter where or when.

wherever you were, adam was never far behind. (yes, that includes the bathroom. what did you expect?)

adam once tried convincing charlie to let you two just share a room, but she had to reject the idea. in the nicest way possible, of course.

“listen, adam, i LOVE how you and (name) are so close! but, um, i’d prefer if you two stayed in your separate rooms. everyone knows how… passionate you are together.”

poor charlie.

husk has had to kick you two out of the bar from time to time, after catching you with adam’s tongue down your throat in front of him. even angel dust, whose whole personality is being horny, gets grossed out by the both of you sometimes.

not to mention the PDA. adam had his hands on you. all. the. time. most of the time, he’d have his hand snaked around your waist while walking. or when sitting down, adam would have you on his lap.

if he feels like someone is talking to you for too long, he’d start making out with you on the spot to get them to walk away, partially traumatized.

you and adam are also embarrassingly cheesy. this includes nicknames.

charlie’s tried to sit you both down to talk about your behavior, but it was awkward when adam had you sat down on his lap, rubbing teasing circles on your thigh. she’d tried talking but her words were cut off by the sounds of your giggles. with a sigh, she gave up and let you two be.

———————————————————————

“i love you more!” you giggled, sitting on adam’s lap as you playfully pinched his cheek.

“no, i love YOU more,”

“nuh uh, i love—“

“OH MY FUCKING GOD. SHUT THE FUCK UP,” yeah, vaggie’s so done with you guys.

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel #adam hazbin #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie morningstar #emily hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel fluff #angel dust #sir pentious #vaggie

[scuderiahoney]

On The Horizon

Max Verstappen x reader // Strawberry Wine Pt IV

Masterlist // Series Masterlist

Summary: Like a sunrise over the ocean, there are nothing but good things on the horizon for you and Max.

Word Count: 7.3k

a/n: here she is, part 4 to what was supposed to be a one off story! co-writing credits to @enchantecafe for this one, bc cait helped me workshop basically this entire plot. everyone say thank you cait!!!

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual references, non graphic/non descriptive mention of vomiting, the lightest sprinkling of angst

“You know,” Lando says, eyeing you and Max warily. “You two are usually my favorite couple to hang out with because you’re not super PDA-ey.”

“Aw, thanks, Lan,” you say sweetly.

“I said usually,” he says. He wrinkles his nose. “But lately you guys are gross.”

You laugh. Lando’s not exactly wrong. Even now, you’re standing in the paddock, and Max has his arm around your middle. His fingers rest comfortably against your side, holding you close with your back against his chest. He’s chatting with GP, not even paying attention to Lando, but he keeps you there. You’re not complaining.

You know why he’s being clingy. You know sometimes he still wakes up and worries you won’t be in bed next to him. You feel it too- the lurching feeling in your chest when he’s out of reach. The inescapable urge to hang onto him for dear life. So you don’t complain when he pulls you close or kisses your forehead in public or holds your hand so tight you worry you’ll lose circulation. You’re clinging just as tight, fingers twisted in the fabric of his jackets as you follow him through crowds, your hands in his pockets when you’re chilly, your face pressed to his chest when you get sleepy. When he’d suggested quitting your job and taking time off to travel with him, you’d eagerly agreed.

“You’re just jealous,” you tease, and Lando balks.

“Am not!” He squeaks. His eyes light up, and he leans around you. “Daniel! Aren’t they being weirdly gross?”

He beckons the older driver over. Daniel saunters over to the group of you. Max is finally paying attention to Lando, drawn in by his frantic waving. Out of anyone, Daniel is the only one who actually knows that you probably are being weird, and the reason behind it. His gaze bounces between you and Max, and he smiles. Then he turns to Lando.

“I think you’re just lonely,” he says, and you laugh. “I could be your wingman, if you want.”

“You’re an awful wingman,” Max teases him.

Daniel turns to him, a fire in his eyes and a smirk on his face. “Really, mate? You wanna say that again?”

You look up at your boyfriend. Max rolls his eyes, but his lips melt into a sheepish smile. For a moment you’re a bit confused- you were dating Max before you ever met Daniel, so he’s not talking about you. But then you remember him picking you up from the club when Charles called, and then how he brought you to Max, and you start to laugh.

Lando makes a noise of confusion. “Seriously, they’re being weird!” He whines. “Something changed.” He reaches for your left hand, grasping at your fingers. “No ring, so it’s not that!”

Your cheeks go red, and this time Daniel’s the one who laughs. Max pulls you closer into his chest and sighs. You pull your hand away from Lando.

“Yeah, when are you gonna make an honest man out of Mr. Verstappen?” Daniel asks teasingly.

You roll your eyes and shove at his shoulder. Lando’s laughing now, too, and you feel Max’s chest rumble with a giggle behind you. For just a second, you let yourself imagine it. A different scenario, where Lando asks why you’re being weird and then spots the ring on your finger. Something simple and elegant, and then Max is holding your hand in his and showing it off, telling everyone the story. You want it. You want him to ask you.

You snap back into the present moment with a racing heart.

“Maybe we should be asking him that, no, schat?” Max teases, pointing at Daniel. “He and his girlfriend have been dating longer than us, you know.”

You laugh. Danny does too.

“S’not about who’s been dating longer,” Daniel says, brows raised. “It’s about who buys the ring first.”

Lando falls into a fit of laughter at their teasing each other. You follow suit. But behind you, Max isn’t laughing, at least not really. And Daniel’s staring him down. Weird. Soon, someone’s calling Max over, and he leaves you with a quick kiss to your forehead. Lando breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief.

You find out what was going on with Max and Daniel later. You’re in bed in the hotel suite they’ve put Max in this weekend. You can hear them talking- Daniel and Max. Daniel and Lando came over to hang out for a bit after dinner- Lando’s since gone to his hotel, but Daniel’s got a tendency to stick around. You went to bed early, but now you’re awake again, and you decide to grab a glass of water from the living area and see if you can convince Max to come to bed. You stop in your tracks in the bedroom, door partially open, when you hear your name. You shouldn’t eavesdrop, you know. But god, you can’t help but want to know what they’re saying. Besides, they’re not exactly being quiet.

“- don’t know, Daniel,” Max says. You hear the scrape of a fork against a plate. “I don’t want to move too fast, you know.”

Daniel scoffs. “You bought the ring months ago. You still have it, don’t you?”

You slip your hand over your mouth. Your heart clenches in your chest. No. That would mean- There’s no way-

“Of course,” Max says. “But it was before… the break, you know?”

“But things are good now?” Daniel asks.

“Of course. Things are good. Maybe better, you know? I just…” he sighs, and you can almost picture him, staring at the counter, rubbing his thumb against it. “I don’t want to scare her off. That comment you made earlier. She looked like a deer in the headlights.” Max sighs again.

“She looked like she was in love with you. Which she is.” Daniel counters.

“Things are good. I don’t want to fuck it up. I’ll wait until I’m sure.”

“And what if you wait too long?” Daniel asks.

You don’t stick around to hear his response. You close the door and make your way back to the bed as quietly as you can, and then crawl back under the covers. Then you stare at the ceiling. Max bought a ring. Max bought the ring before you asked him to take a break. That means that when you said you needed space, Max had been thinking about asking you to marry him. God, you feel sick to your stomach.

When he crawls into bed a while later, you pretend you’re asleep. You can’t shake the heavy guilty feeling- it clings to your bones. You think of Max, the way you left him asleep in your bed that morning, and how he probably had the ring in his bedside drawer. Next to you, he rolls over and wraps his arm around your waist, presses his lips to the shell of your ear. “I know you’re awake.”

You sigh softly, melt back into him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he murmurs. “Talk to me?”

This is his new thing. It’s helping a lot, actually. He notices you slipping, and he calls you out. Talk to me. You’ve gotten so used to it that you’ve started using it, too. Can I just talk to you? He smiles every time you ask, even if you’re close to tears. Because it means you’re trying.

You want to talk to him. You want to apologize, to tell him you heard him talk about the ring, to beg him to forgive you for leaving him that morning. You think of all the times you woke up without him there and how your chest had ached, and you wonder how awful it must feel to reach for someone who isn’t there, expecting skin under your fingers and only finding cold sheets.

But that’s something you’ve talked about and apologized for already. He won’t understand why you’re upset about it all over again unless you admit you heard him talking, and then you’ll have ruined that, too. If, someday down the line, he does decide to ask you, you don’t want it to be because you know about the ring. You don’t want to pressure him into it.

So you roll over in his arms and wrap yourself around him. “I was half asleep, but I was waiting for you,” you say. “I don’t sleep as well when you’re not here.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not the whole truth, either, but it seems to work.

He kisses your forehead, and then your lips. “I’m here, now. Whenever you need me, I’m here.”

…..

You love the ocean. The sounds, the beautiful blue expanse of it, the sand between your toes. You love Max on vacation even more- skin sun warmed, a hazy smile on his lips. So when he suggests a trip to Greece for the summer break, you don’t even have to think about it. He rents out a little villa at a beach resort, one where you’re only steps away from the water and a short walk from everything else you could possibly want. The first night you’re there, you barely make it through a quick room service dinner before you fall asleep, exhausted from the last few weeks of traveling.

The first full day there, though, is magical.

You wake up just after sunrise, pale morning light filtering in through the curtains. Max is still asleep, snoring softly. His hand is resting on your back. You lay there and trace his face with soft fingertips. The slope of his nose, the jut of his jaw, the line of his brow. You could watch him sleep like this forever, you think, as you brush your thumb over his Cupid’s bow.

He wakes up eventually with a flutter of his eyelashes and a stuttered sigh. You take the opportunity to press yourself close and worm your way into his arms. Max isn’t always cuddly, but when he’s only half awake he’s much more receptive to it. He laughs when you press your face into his bare chest, and he wraps his arms around you happily.

“Hi, my love,” he murmurs, squeezing his arms around you tightly. “Good morning.”

“Hello,” you say back drowsily. “Missed you.”

He laughs. “I was right here.”

“I know,” you say.

You didn’t mean for it to be sad, but suddenly your chest feels tight. Max doesn’t push or prod or question you. He just holds you a little bit tighter, lets his hand trace a line up and down your spine. He bends his head to kiss your temple. Both of you know without having to say it. When you say you missed him, you’re not just talking about now. You’re talking about all the time you were apart. Eventually, the feeling passes. You let out a breath, and Max does too.

“What do you want to do today?” He asks. “We could go get breakfast.”

His voice is scratchy and sleep muddled. Part of you wants to ask him to just lay here with you all day. You think he might agree to it.

“It’s 1:00 in the afternoon,” you tell him, and he lets out a laugh.

“We were tired, huh?” He says.

“I’ve been awake,” you tell him. “Waiting on you.”

His hand slips lower, and he pinches your hip lightly. You squeak and try to squirm away, but he holds on tight. Then his fingers are digging into your side as you try to shove him away. He rolls the two of you over until he’s laying on top of you, and then he drops his whole weight on you. You let out a groan.

“We could stay in bed all day,” he suggests.

“Sounds boring,” you joke, despite the fact that you’d just had the same thought.

Max muffles a laugh into your collarbone. “I can make it interesting.”

You sigh softly when he disappears under the covers. His hands slide down your bare sides, and you think maybe he’s right.

You finally crawl out of bed by 2:30 and head for the shower. Max, of course, tries to follow you, but you banish him from the bathroom, insisting that you want to go do something, knowing he’ll never let you out of the hotel room if he gets his hands on you again. You trade places with him after you’re done, though he tries his best to coax you back under the warm spray of water with him. It almost works. Finally, by 3:30, the two of you set off for a walk along the beach.

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

His fingers are knit with yours, and the two of you walk in step with each other. He’s wearing a white button up, the top two buttons undone. His hair is perfectly tousled, still damp despite your attempts to blow dry it for him after you dried your own. And god, the smile on his lips, that peaceful little grin, makes your heart melt.

“M’starving,” you admit, bumping your arm against his.

He smirks down at you. You elbow him deliberately this time. He keeps your fingers together as he laughs. You never want him to let go.

“Let’s get you some food, then,” he says.

You have a wonderful, very late lunch at a little seafood place right on the beach. You spend the rest of the daylight lounging on the beach with him. He lays out a beach blanket just down the shore from your villa and carries all the supplies down for you- snacks and towels and sunscreen and your book off the nightstand. You lay in the warm sun and listen to the crash of the waves and watch the rise and fall of his back. He’s going to fall asleep on the beach and get sunburned if you’re not careful, so you drag him into the water instead. Waves crash around your legs and tug at your toes. He follows you willingly, knee deep in bright blue. His hands fall to your hips, warm and sandy on your bare skin.

If you could stay right here with him forever, you would. You’d let the ocean swallow both of you whole and hold on tight to him. That fleeting thought passes your mind again, along with the tight feeling in your chest, and you try to push it away. You almost lost him.

Max cocks his head at you and squeezes your hips. “Talk to me.”

You sigh. “I just. I almost lost you. I almost fucked everything up so badly.”

Max doesn’t argue, but he brushes his lips against your forehead and says. “But we’re here now.”

“I just feel guilty sometimes, you know? When we have these nice moments, I feel like I don’t deserve them.” You say.

He nods and then cups your face in his hands. His thumbs press gently into your cheeks. His eyes are like the ocean, wide and blue and washing over you.

“I love you,” he says, so heartfelt it makes your head swim. “And we’re here. I’m not going anywhere. You deserve all of this. There’s nobody I’d rather be here with than you.”

Eventually, standing in the water and staring up at him, the feeling passes. It melts off your shoulders and washes away with the waves. You tell him you love him, too, and watch the words wash over him like water.

Two days later, you share an even later dinner in the fancy restaurant near your villa. It’s a white tablecloth, candles in the centerpiece sort of affair. You almost feel underdressed in your long sundress, but Max tells you you look beautiful and that’s more than enough for you. You have good food and better wine and you hook your ankle around his under the tablecloth. It’s everything you want it to be, and it’s only the first day.

Neither of you really feel like sleeping, even though it’s nearly 2am by the time you make your way back to your villa. The world is dark outside, the sun having sunk below the horizon hours ago. Max is laying on the bed, legs hanging off the edge as you putter around the room, humming to yourself and picking up the clothes you left everywhere while you got ready for dinner. He’s watching you, you can feel it.

“You know what I wish we had?” You voice.

He props himself up in his elbows to look at you. “What, schat? Anything you want, I’ll get it for you.”

Heat swirls in your stomach, and you turn to stare at him. “Strawberry wine.”

Max juts his chin towards you. “You said you didn’t like the taste of it anymore.”

He’s talking about the night where he found you on the rooftop. Your hands fall to your sides, and your chest feels tight again. You wish that feeling would just go away.

“No, I- it’s not…” you sigh. “I do. I was just feeling so guilty, and drinking it just reminded me…”

Max nods in understanding. He pushes himself up to sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look in my suitcase.”

You frown and stare at him. He nods again, and you turn to where his suitcase sits on the dresser. You flip the lid open, face to face with his clothes. When he doesn’t say anything, you dig past the layers until your hand hits glass. Your heart lurches in your chest and tears prick at the corner of your eyes. God, you love him.

You wrap your hand around the bottle and reach for the beach blanket, sitting on the dresser next to the suitcase. You turn back to Max, cradling the bottle of wine to your chest. He’s smiling up at you from the bed.

“You should find a corkscrew,” you tell him. “And meet me on the beach.”

Max laughs as you step out of the sliding glass door and head for the ocean. Then you hear him scrambling to follow.

“I was going to save it for the last night,” he tells you when he meets you on the beach. “But this seems perfect.”

You hold the bottle out to him. “Why wait?”

He takes it from you and pulls the cork out with expert precision. You watch the way his arms flex as he does, lit up in pale moonlight. He hands the bottle to you so you can have the first drink. It’s warm and far too sweet, but it’s exactly what you wanted. You sigh happily and hand it back to him. He seems to brace himself before he takes a drink. Anxiety blooms in your chest.

“I still like it,” he reassures you, knowing you’ve caught the look on his face. “I just. I got sick once and threw it up. It’s not as good on the way back up.”

You frown, taking a step closer to him. The sand is cool between your toes. When you grab his hand, it’s warm and firm.

“You got sick? When?” You ask.

The look on his face makes your stomach lurch, and suddenly you wish you hadn’t asked.

He tilts his head. “Do you want to know now?”

It’s going to hurt, you know. You get glimpses of Max, of what he went through when you were apart, and they tear you to shreds. But in the same way you owe him answers to how you’re feeling, you owe him this, too. He’d been hesitant to tell you things at first, worried you were only trying to punish yourself. But he understands now, though he still gives you the chance to back out each time.

You nod. He sighs and sits down. You sink onto the blanket next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. He takes another sip from the bottle before he hands it to you, and then he tells you.

It was the night he came home while you were there gathering stuff to take back to Audrey’s with you. He’d had Italian food and a bottle of wine, asked you to have dinner with him. Space, Max. You can remember how you said it, the tired defeat in your voice. How small he looked sitting in the kitchen. You’ve often wondered what would’ve been different if you’d just sat down with him that night.

He tells you then, on the beach under the stars, what happened after you left. How he’d tossed his food in the trash, put yours in the fridge like maybe you’d come back for it. Then he took the bottle of wine onto the balcony, stared at the lights of the city, and drank the whole thing.

“Sugary wine on an empty stomach,” he says, lightly. “Not a good mix.”

You don’t laugh. You never do when he tells you these things, despite how casual he tries to make them sound, how he tries to play it off. He’s trying to protect you by joking about it, you know. But the thought of him throwing up all alone, in the home the two of you made together, makes you feel sick. You wrap your arms around his upper arm and try not to cry. He grabs your knee with his other hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “I’m so sorry.”

He shushes you and rests his head against yours. “We weren’t ready to talk,” he says, so sure of it that you just know he’s right. “If you’d have sat down we both would’ve acted like nothing happened and then…”

You’d have ended up right back where you started, sooner or later.

You sniffle. “Yeah.”

He takes another drink. “I love you,” he says, because you think he thinks if he says it enough you might really believe it again. “So much. More than strawberry wine or racing or anything in the whole world.”

You press your hand over your mouth. “I love you. You are my whole world, Max.”

The time slips away like sand through your fingers. You sit and talk and talk, about everything and nothing at all. You kiss and hold each other close. The stars shine above your heads, and the moon lights up the water. You draw designs in the sand with his fingers. Waves crash on the shore and wash them away, and you think each one washes away just a little bit more of the pain you’ve been feeling. You dig your feet into the sand, press your hands to the ground, and breathe deep. Next to you, Max watches and laughs and wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“My sweet strawberry,” he murmurs into your hair. “I missed you.”

You know he’s not talking about now. In front of you, you see the sun begin to peek up over the horizon. You blink through a fresh blur of tears and hold onto his elbow. Sleep is pulling at your bones, but the sun is rising and painting everything pink. You stand up, take his hands, and drag him to the water’s edge. He chatters about your dress, about how much he likes it and doesn’t want the saltwater to ruin it. You turn towards the sun, your back to him, and pull it over your head, leaving you in your bra and underwear.

He chokes, and when you turn over your shoulder to look at him, he’s searching the beach frantically. “Nobody’s awake,” you tell him. “It’s just us.”

He’s grinning at you then, cheeks rosy pink even without the help of the sunrise. And then he pulls his shirt over his head and hops his way out of his shorts. You run into the waves before he can get to you, and he follows, fingers reaching for yours.

When he wraps his arms around you, both of you tumble into the water. You come up for air next to him in the pink sea. He kisses you between laughs, waves crashing around you, and it mends another piece of your heart. His too, you think.

…..

You see Daniel in the paddock at the first race after the summer break. He greets you both with hugs and then reaches for your left hand. He sighs dramatically and rubs his thumb against your empty ring finger, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“He’s got absolutely no balls, does he?” Daniel teases.

Next to you, Max scoffs.

You look up at Daniel and sigh forlornly. “I got my nails done and everything, Danny.”

Max chokes on a laugh. “You would’ve gotten them done either way, we were on vacation!”

You shrug and look up at him, winking conspiratorially. Daniel is already off on a tangent about nails and beaches and perfect proposals. But you watch Max’s face, the way he smiles down at you, and you hope he knows you’re ready. That you’d follow him anywhere if he just asked you to. He ignores Danny’s ramblings and kisses your temple. Nearby, Lando sees it and groans loudly.

…..

In the early fall, for the first time since the break, Max heads off to a Grand Prix alone. He leaves you behind in your shared apartment. It feels strange. It didn’t used to be like this- both of you were good at being independent, at understanding you couldn’t be together all the time. But now you sit at the kitchen island and stare at his empty seat and wonder why you didn’t just go with him.

This feeling will fade, you remind yourself. If Max was here, he'd reach out and hold your hand. But he’s in another country, in a hotel room somewhere, probably already asleep. You have to get used to being alone sometimes. You sit at the counter and scroll on your phone and try not to think about how quiet the apartment is. When you’re finished eating you join the cats on the couch, finding comfort in other living beings and the way they remind you of Max. You think back to when you were first seeing each other, the way they followed you around and Max called them traitors. They still seem to like you more most days.

You wake up hours later with a dry mouth, face smashed against the couch cushion. The tv is still on, playing some show that definitely isn't what you were watching. Someone’s phone is ringing on the show.

No. Wait. Your phone is ringing. You scramble for it, heart racing when you see Max’s face on the screen.

“Max?” You answer.

You hear a soft sniff, and then a huff. “I was trying to get your voicemail. Did I wake you?”

“No,” you lie. “I was up. M’watching-“ you rub your eyes and stare at the TV screen. “Watching Say Yes to the Dress.”

“At 3 in the morning?” He says, bewildered.

“It’s 3am?” You ask, sitting up. “Shit, I should go to bed.”

You can almost hear Max rolling his eyes. “Did you fall asleep on the couch?”

“I was awake,” you insist. “Hold on, why were you trying to get my voicemail?”

Max sighs. “Schatje, you should go to bed.”

“Max.”

“I woke up and you weren’t here,” he admits. “I haven’t woken up without you since the break… and I can sit here and tell myself everything is fine but I wanted to hear your voice.”

“So really, it’s better that I answered,” you tell him.

He sighs again. “Yes, but you should be sleeping.”

“I haven’t gone to bed without you here since then,” you remind him. “I might be avoiding it a little bit.”

He hums. You hear the sheets rustle on his end. “Why don’t you go lay down in bed, and we can talk until you fall asleep?”

It sounds nice, so you agree. You head for the bathroom and brush your teeth while Max tells you about his day. You put the phone on speaker while you change your clothes and tell him about the cats and the lady at the coffee shop that morning who complimented your outfit- he, of course, asks for pictures. Then you lay down in bed, clad in nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of underwear, and snuggle deep into the blankets. You wrap your arms around his pillow, press your nose in it, and close your eyes. As he talks quietly, you can almost pretend he’s there.

When you wake up and he isn’t next to you, tears spring to your eyes. But the cats are curled up in bed with you, and the sheets still smell like him, because he hasn’t been gone long and he’s coming back, sooner than it feels. You’ll make it through this, and when you see him again you know he’ll hold you close and kiss you and tell you he loves you. And then he’ll beg you to never let him sleep alone again.

You remind yourself that soon enough you’ll be back to traveling with him. You’ve just missed out on a lot of time with friends in the past few months, busy reconnecting with Max and yourself. Both you and Max had thought maybe it was a good time to do a trial run, to remember what it’s like to be away from each other. At first, it sounded like he was suggesting space, which had nearly sent you into a tailspin, but he explained and you realized he was right. Honestly, though, you hate it, so you’ll be taking him up on his offer to follow him across the globe for the rest of the season. You’ll have to go back to work and your normal life eventually, but not yet.

When you tell him that, he’s all smiles and no complaints.

“I missed you like hell,” he says.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” you reply.

…..

When the winter break finally starts, after Abu Dhabi and all the other little events he has to go to post season, you and Max fly home and sleep for nearly 12 hours. When you wake up, the sun is low in the sky, your mouth is dry and tastes awful, and there are lines from the sheets pressed deep into Max’s cheek. He smiles at you from his spot on the pillow, and then he kisses you even as you protest about your probably awful morning breath. You think back to the first time you woke up in bed with him, how timid you were then, how you’d brushed your teeth before he even woke up. Now here you are.

It’s 9:00 in the morning, and Max suggests going for a drive. You tease him, ask if he hasn’t done enough driving this year, but you agree anyways. You ask where to, and he says it’s a surprise. The two of you take your time getting ready, having nowhere to be at any specific time for the first time in what feels like forever. You throw on a sundress and comfortable shoes and bring along a light jacket. Max grabs drinks and snacks for in the car, and then you’re off.

He drives like he knows where he’s going, despite the fact that the route doesn’t seem very familiar to you. He’s not headed to Nice, or Italy, or towards any of your favorite breakfast restaurants in Monaco. But you love him, and he has this excited smile on his face, so you don’t ask questions.

You play music from your phone on the way, a mix the two of you started when you first started dating and have continued to add to since. It’s mostly your music and songs you think he might like, but he adds a few every so often. Here Comes The Sun by the Beatles comes on, and you both look at each other with wide smiles. He takes your hand as you both sing along. You think about months before, how burned out and worn down you were, and how happy you are to just be next to him now. Here comes the sun, indeed.

Eventually, he maneuvers the car through the French countryside. You spot a little roadside farm stand and tug on his hand. The sign boasts about fresh flowers and fruit, and Max squeezes your hand in response.

“Want some flowers?” He asks.

“Always,” you say.

He pulls into a parking spot. You follow him out of the car and up the path to the farm stand. There are rows upon rows of flower bouquets, vegetables, bread, and…

“Strawberries,” you say, softly. “It’s December, how do they have fresh strawberries?”

It should be impossible. You know when to get the best strawberries- the middle of July, when they’re fresh picked. But these are bright and red and you swear you can almost smell the sweetness. You turn to look for Max, who’s inspecting the flowers, trying to pick the perfect bouquet.

“Max,” you say, and he looks up at you with a smile. “Strawberries.”

He raises his brows and grins widely, making his way to you. He nudges your shoulder with his, looking down at the containers of berries.

“You want some?” He asks.

“I mean, yeah, but- it’s winter, it’s so far out of season,” you say. “How are they fresh?

“We grow them in the greenhouse,” a girl says in a heavy French accent. You look up at her, and she’s smiling at you. “You like strawberries?”

“They’re my favorite,” you say.

“Would you like to see?” She asks, pointing behind her. “They’re perfect right now.”

You look at her with wide eyes, then look to Max. “Can we?”

“Of course,” he says, the soft look on his face that he reserves just for you. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you in there. I left my phone in the car, you’ll want pictures.”

He scurries off and leaves you alone with the girl. She waves you along towards the domed greenhouse. When she opens the door, warm air pours out- it’s not cold outside, really, but it’s much warmer in the building. You step in and breathe in the humid air, and it smells like strawberries.

There are rows upon rows of the plants on tables, growing wildly, covered in berries. Tiny white flowers dot between the green leaves. There are little round string lights hanging from the ceiling, lighting up the greenhouse even on the cloudy day. You take a step towards the aisle, then stop yourself, but the worker nods. You stroll between rows of strawberry plants, a little haven in the middle of the countryside in France.

“We sell them here, and then we also send them to a winery just down the road,” she tells you. “We grow them all year. The farm owner, his wife loves strawberries.”

You smile softly, running a finger over one of the delicate leaves. “So do I,” you say.

You hear the door open, and Max steps inside, looking around with a soft grin. His eyes are lit up. You wave him over, entranced by the tiny white flowers.

“I’ll leave you two to explore,” the girl says. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

She shuts the door behind her. Max makes his way towards you. His footsteps fall softly on the ground. You have the urge to pause this moment forever. He steps up next to you and slips his hand into yours, fingers intertwined, slotted together like puzzle pieces. If you could hold onto him forever, you would.

It’s just. Forever sounds nice, doesn’t it. His wife loves strawberries. How romantic. How sweet. That’s love, in its purest form, isn’t it? To know what your person likes so much that you’ll defy nature to give it to them. Build a greenhouse and fill it with plants just for them. You’d move the world for Max. You know he’d do the same for you. And that’s enough- that’s more than enough, it’s everything you’ve ever needed and the strawberry on top, too. You feel his thumb brush against the back of your hand and think you’d be happy with just this, just him, forever. You don’t need a ring or a piece of paper to tell you that. His hand in yours is enough.

And then you turn and find Max kneeling down, a little black box in his hand.

Your heart is suddenly racing, all the air sucked out of your lungs. Tears fill your eyes immediately, but you’re smiling so wide you think it’ll split your whole face. Max keeps one hand linked with your left one, and you raise the other one to cover your mouth. You’re going to cry before he even says anything. You glance up at the ceiling to try to will the tears away, but then he says your name and you’re drawn right back to him.

He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “Liefje,” he says, voice wavering with emotion. “I love you so much. I have for a long time now. And I want more. I want forever.” He opens the box, and you don’t even bother looking at the ring. “Will you-“

“Yes,” you squeak out, before he can even really ask if. “I love you, yes, I-“

He laughs, slides the ring onto your finger with shaky hands. And then you’re reaching for him, pulling him up towards you, desperate to kiss him. His lips meet yours and that last little piece of your heart falls into place. Because yeah, forever sounds pretty great.

He holds you close, and you rest your head on his shoulder, your hand on his chest. He reaches for your hand so he can look at the ring on your finger. There are tears in his eyes, now, too. You brush them off his cheeks with a shaky thumb.

It washes over you, suddenly. “Oh my god, you knew!” You say, wide eyed. “You didn’t just see the sign and ask if I wanted flowers, you-“

He laughs and cups the side of your face in his free hand. “I knew. I found you strawberries in the winter.”

A love so big you’d defy nature to give them what they want. His love is so big you’re not sure you’ll ever feel like you deserve it. But he stands there and holds you and whispers the sweetest things in your ears, and you know it’s true. You know it because it’s exactly how you feel about him. You’d give him the world if you could.

“I love you,” you say.

It’s all you can say, it’s everything, and it’ll never be enough to explain how you feel. You think he gets that, though.

He takes pictures of you in the strawberry house, has you hold your left hand over the plants to get the perfect photo. He admits that he’d had the worker take some photos through the door, too, on a nicer camera that the owners of the farm had offered when he planned this whole thing. They’ve promised to send the pictures later. When you leave the greenhouse, the worker is smiling knowingly. She hands you a bouquet of white flowers and a large container of strawberries, and says they’re a gift. You wonder if there’s a way to keep the strawberries forever. You wish there was.

As you walk to the car, you see an elderly man standing at the house nearby, his wife clinging to his arm. They’re waving. You and Max wave back, and your heart fills with warmth. It feels like a blessing.

“Where to now?” You ask.

He shrugs, grin wide as ever. “It’s lunchtime, and I hear there’s a winery down the road.”

You talk his ear off on the drive, about how much you love him and the ring and the strawberries and how you hope the wine is as good as your wine. He laughs and tells you he loves you too, and that he hopes the same. It’s only when you see the sign out front that you realize.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, tears already forming in your eyes again. “Oh my god.”

He laughs, puts the car in park, and leans over the center console to pull you close. “All this time, and we never knew this place was this close, huh?”

On the sign, there’s a logo. It’s one you know well. You’ve seen it countless times on bottle labels and corks, the ones that sit in his bedside table and in your jewelry box. It’s your wine. For a split second, the feeling is back- you don’t deserve this, a tight weight on your chest, crushing your rib cage. But Max is holding you, and there’s a ring on your finger that says he wants you forever. You didn’t lose him. You figured it out together, the way you always do and always will.

And now he’s brought you to the place that makes the wine that started it all. He brought you to see where they grow the damn strawberries. Back to the very beginning of it to start a new future.

“I love you,” you repeat, because you don’t think you could ever tell him enough. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, schat,” he says, pressing the words right into the skin of your temple. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He slides the ring off your finger at the table inside the winery, even though you protest immediately. But then he turns it over, holds it out to show you the inside. A tiny strawberry, engraved in the metal.

“So you always have strawberries,” he says. “No matter what time of year or where you are.” Then he slides the ring back on your finger before tapping on the stone. “And to remind you that you always have me. No matter when or where.”

You let the tears run down your cheeks at the table and hold onto his hand tightly. He’s tearing up again, too. Neither of you seem to mind. How could you, when there’s a bottle of strawberry wine in a bucket on the table in front of you, and forever on the horizon ahead of you?

…..

Two days later, when you finally make it home- he’d booked a hotel for you to stay at for a couple nights with the deepest tub and softest bed you’ve ever seen- you take him by the hand and drag him to your bedroom. He starts laughing, like he thinks he knows what’s happening. But you drag him to your nightstand instead of the bed and slip your hand into the drawer, coming out with a thin black box that you hand to him.

“I knew you’d want to be the one to pop the question, but I knew when that did happen… I would want you to have something, too,” you say, softly.

Inside the box is a gold cuff bracelet. He picks it up and turns it in his hand, thumb brushing against the smooth metal. You watch him look at the inside of it, and when he sees the strawberry engraved there, tears fill his eyes. He slips it on.

“I cut a little piece off the cork from the first bottle,” you tell him, as you rub your thumb against his wrist and the bracelet. “And they ground it up and mixed it with the metal. I’m sure it, you know, got hot and burned up or whatever, but the essence is there,” you say with a shrug. “So that wherever you are, you’ll have that with you. I mean. If you want to wear it-“

“Liefje,” he says, voice wavering. “Thank you. I love it. I love you.”

The look on his face is so soft it makes your heart melt. He kisses you then, and you feel the bracelet press against your jaw as he holds your face in his hands. You press your left hand to his cheek and you know he feels the ring there, too. Love in physical form, finally resting on your skin and his instead of hidden away in bedside drawers. It’s almost relieving. Like something you’ve been waiting a long time for has finally fallen into place.

Check out the final part of the series, Love Of My Life!

a/n: did you catch the dialogue from the poll? hope so :) thanks for reading!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @ggaslyp1

#max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen series #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fic #formula one fluff #formula one x reader #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #strawberry wine verse #mv33 #honeywrites #dr3 #ln4

[drak3n]

THE LOST LOVE

ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: two lovers who went seperate ways years ago… one of the cases we love most!

ꨄ. CONTENT WARNINGS: exes to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, age gap (reader was in college & toji in his thirties when they met), dad!toji, breakup, implied divorce, insecurities, smut, unprotected sex

bold italic quotes = letter excerpts

PROLOGUE. | SERIES MASTERLIST.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i like to think that meeting each other was like a breath of fresh air. for both of us. wouldn’t you agree?”

wake up. go to work. get home. eat. sleep. repeat.

toji’s life was a vicious cycle, one of a middle age man with no goals in life. it was funny to him how people would actually call that a life.

the only times he truly felt like he was alive was when he was seated on the bleachers watching a good old horse race. or a boat race. or whatever it was that he had bet money on.

no one understood him.

toji knew that life rarely gifted him anything. he was no lucky man. in the many years of betting and gambling, he seldomly won. and the money he had won those few times was enough to cover the ticket and perhaps a nice dinner.

and although knowing he was probably going to leave empty-handed, he did it for the thrill. it made him feel youthful again. like he hadn’t wasted his years on useless things that aged him faster than he had hoped to. like he was still the same old teenager he had been years ago.

it wasn’t until one fated day that he found out that there were other things that could bring him back to his youth, other than doing useless crap that only burned a hole in his pocket.

said thing being you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“the way we met wasn’t really romantic. it wasn’t like a scene out of a movie or a novel. looking back, it was quite comedic, even. i’m sure you felt the same way.”

there were a lot of terrible things that came with being a busy person, one of which you were facing right now. standing in front of a ridiculously long line at the grocery store.

you ran out of basic ingredients for cooking, it was a saturday evening, and you really did not want to order takeout again for a third time this week.

standing in front of you was a group of drunken kids — by kids you meant they were around your age, maybe in college like you — but they were different. they seemed carefree. they used their time to have fun and laugh instead of constantly grumping and punishing you with more work than you had.

you wished you could be like them, too. at least sometimes.

what made you get out of your train of thoughts was the sound of an item being placed on the conveyor belt, the rattling sounding too familiar for your liking. another person who hated cooking, so it seemed. and another person who barely had enough change to get a cup of instant noodles.

it was a man — you heard from the occasional sighs and grunts leaving his lips, and the way his cologne wafted over to invade your senses.

why did you suddenly have the urge to turn around and bond with this random stranger? perhaps hit him up with something like ‘heck, youngsters these days, right?’

absolutely not. that would be goofy as hell. and judging by how slowly the like progressed, you were likely going to stand here for at least ten more minutes. you would rather die than make a fool of yourself and then proceed to stand here for even longer afterwards.

oddly enough, the huffing stranger beat you to it. your breath hitched in your throat at the gruff voice sounding.

“s’cuse me, little lady.”

a bulky arm shot forward from behind you, making you step aside to grant him access to the side of the conveyor. you cleared your throat, turning around with an apologetic smile— and damn was he hot.

he looked quite a bit older than you, and he looked quite… distraught. sleepless, deep green eyes, unruly jet black hair that looked like he hadn’t gotten cut in a while, and a stubble gracing his jaw and chin.

you hated romanticizing people who weren’t feeling their best. so, you quickly snapped out of it.

“sorry for hogging the conveyor.” you chuckled, trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere as everyone else in the line was quite angry. the man gave you a halfhearted smile, scar on the right side of his mouth stretching. you wondered how he’d gotten that scar.

“don’t worry ‘bout it,” he waved your apology off, slightly motioning at the impatient woman huffing and puffing behind him. “someone’s just very fuckin’ annoying.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. then, your eyes wandered to the conveyor, staring up to meet his again. “you can get in front of me, sir.” you offered kindly, already moving to make some space in front of you, “don’t have to wait even longer for a single item.”

the surprise in his eyes was a dead giveaway that no one had been polite or nice to him in a long time. before he could make it obvious, he shook his head, uttering, “s’fine. thanks.”

but you insisted, for some reason. it wasn’t until he was standing in front of you, cup of ramen placed in front of your groceries, and the seething woman now standing right behind you, that you were happily smiling.

the man walked off after paying for his noodles when the line finally progressed what felt like years later, not even sparing you a glance. you were barely able to contain your disappointment as you bagged your groceries and shuffled outside of the store, ready to take the train back home with full hands.

just to see the man from the line in the grocery store thumbing at the instant noodle cup’s lid, lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

his hands wordlessly approached yours to take your bags of groceries, not even frowning at the heaviness of them, as he let out a puff of cigarette smoke.

“i’ll drop ya off, little lady.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“our love was fierce. characterized by sleepless nights, stolen breaths and undying passion.”

ragged breaths filled the air of your small bedroom. it was dark, perhaps around nighttime, and the air was thick with sweat, arousals and the sinful smell of sex.

a lazy kiss was exchanged between you two with swollen, trembling lips as you settled down in each other’s arms. your eyes were shut as toji moved a little to light a cigarette.

your fingertips traced over his bare, built chest, post-orgasmic glow making his handsome face look even prettier. you were convinced he was the prettiest man you’d ever seen in your life.

“are you staying for dinner?” you asked, voice hoarse and quiet from how he had formerly railed you into your mattress. toji wasn’t a gentle lover. the word soft was very foreign to him. but you didn’t mind that. you didn’t mind him squeezing your hand too tightly whenever he held it. he didn’t know any better.

he exhaled the cigarette smoke away from you, large palm settling on the tender, bruised flesh on your hips. his thick, rough fingers traced over the softness of your skin that he had grabbed and kneaded mere minutes ago while manhandling you.

“sorry, baby,” he mumbled into your hair as you already knew what was coming, “gotta go. i’ll stay over next time, promise.”

you wanted him to stay, you really did, but with a sigh, you watched as he got dressed and left — not without pulling you into another kiss. missing the way his eyes twisted with a hint of guilt as he shut the door to your apartment behind himself.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“you weren’t a man of many words. you didn’t like talking too much about yourself. but you’d always listen to whatever i’d say. and whenever i wasn’t up to talk, we’d relish in each other’s silence. it was calming.”

“how many girlfriends have you had before me?”

the silence surrounding the air on your balcony after your question made you reconsider if it was a smart thing to ask.

it wasn’t. since when was it okay to talk about exes? you remembered it as one of the most off-putting conversation topics to ever come up with.

toji’s bare arms were propped up against the metal railing, gaze wandering from the unspectacular sight below him that consisted of old, run down buildings and sketchy streets, to you.

he knew it was too late to tell you the truth. he pressed his scarred lips together in regret, before opening his mouth to respond to your question.

“many.”

he saw the way your nose scrunched up at the ugly word — he wished it had been the truth. much better than hurting you with a fucking lie. made him wonder how you’d react to the truth.

“c’mere.” when you didn’t make a move to approach toji, he pulled you into him, dwarfing your body in his form. “you’re not mad, are you?”

“how could i ever be mad at you?”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“there was just one thing i wish you had just told me from the beginning. you know, i actually knew the entire time. i was just waiting for you to tell me.”

“dad, the show’s about to start.”

toji was now a couple of years older, about to celebrate his fourth decade of living in a few weeks. he wouldn’t admit that he was getting older. he had just plucked another gray hair from his scalp this morning, but no one had to know that.

sock-clad feet padded from the kitchen to the living room, bowl of salted popcorn in his hand as he placed it in front of his college-aged kid. toji was in awe at how the brat was becoming more of a carbon copy of himself the more years passed.

the only difference being his spiky, wild hair and blue eyes he had gotten from his mother.

“we’re not watching a match today?” toji sounded rather bored as he leaned back on the couch with a can of soda in his hand, legs finding the surface of the living room table as the younger man munched on sweets.

megumi shook his head, eyes focused on the screen that was still playing some shampoo commercial. “have you ever heard of TATMYLB?” the green-eyed man beside him narrowed his eyes at the obnoxiously long abbreviation, .

“kid. i don’t understand your language,” he grunted, “i’m headin’ out if it’s another high school rom com.” said boy only snorted as he pointed at the tv that happened to be playing a trailer of what was going to be playing next.

“reading today… TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE’s 26th letter!” toji kissed his teeth. of course it was going to be some sappy ass show. why was it so popular anyway?

he raised from the couch, scratching his belly lazily under his sweater as he pointed to the door with his thumb. “gonna check the mail,” he uttered, “we haven’t emptied our mailbox in days.”

megumi hummed, too immersed in what today’s live episode was going to be about. just as toji approached the door, curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself listening.

“unfortunately, she won’t be joining us today, but we have received a beautifully written letter by her! what a lucky man to have been loved like this.” the host spoke gleefully as the audience erupted into cheers and applause.

“our writer is a 29 year old lady from tokyo, a journalist for a very popular newspaper, which explains her splendid writing,” the co-host added, “she has met a man she refers to as her LOST LOVE nine whole years ago.”

toji set his keys down on the shoerack and walked back to the living room. megumi took notice of his dad walking back and smirked. “caught your attention, old man?” he only scowled at his son and placed his hands on the back of the couch.

the stage was beautifully built, and one could tell how much budged was spent on it all. it was a hell lot of pink, too much for toji’s liking — then again, any amount of pink was too much for his liking. the hosts were dolled up to the max, host dressed in a baby pink, frilly dress with her hair done up while the co-host was dressed in a pink suit.

“adding on to that… we have not received an answer or a reaction from the recipient.” a glum round of oh’s echoed across the studio, which made toji snort. “which doesn’t have to mean anything, of course! perhaps he’s just terrible at checking his mail.”

megumi stopped mid-chew as he side-eyed his father, who shot him a look. “old man, you don’t think—” megumi might have been young, but he had a very good memory of his father’s past lovers. especially that one woman who had changed him forever. you.

although he had never met you, he could tell it was you who had a huge impact on his father. and he figured that toji never opened up about having had a son.

“don’t be silly, bud,” toji laughed, reaching over to steal a handful of popcorn from the bowl in his son’s lap. he didn’t even like popcorn, why the hell was he eating it? it had to be the most annoying snack in the world with how the shell of the kernels always got stuck in one’s gums or throat.

you must have moved on years ago. it’s been almost a decade, for fuck’s sake. perhaps you were married already. had kids. he hated how the thought made his jaw clench. it was none of his business anymore, after all.

“mistakes. we all make them. so far, we have had a lot of letters speaking about wrongdoings,” the host clapped her hands together, “but how about keeping secrets? crucial ones?”

of course they were going to drag it on. what a bunch of clowns the audience was for eating it up. he totally wasn’t, not with the way he was clutching the couch cushions in anticipation.

he just wanted to know it wasn’t you, so he could move on in peace. because if you have moved on, then he shall do the same.

the audience was then asked to talk about their experiences with secrets in a relationship, before they started guessing what the person might have done.

eventually, an elderly woman received the mic and laughed. “it wasn’t another woman, so,” she paused, “i’d say hiding a child.”

the two hosts opened their mouths before knowingly looking at the audience, and toji cleared his throat. by now, megumi was fully facing his father, a look of disbelief on his face. before he could speak, toji raised a palm.

“i said don’t be silly,” he warned megumi, “it’s not me. jesus.” megumi shook his head before raising his palm to invite his father to a handshake, challenging him to a bet, “fifty bucks if it’s you, then.”

toji could never say no to bets. maybe he should have checked his mailbox first, though.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

the show was halfway through, currently on a commercial break as you found yourself in the kitchen to prepare yourself a cup of instant noodles. the sight of the cup still brought you back to day you had met toji.

before you could open the lid of the cup, you were halted by the sound of your doorbell ringing. leaving behind the sounds of your kettle whistling, you approached tye door to look through the—

your hand immediately flew to the handle to fling the door open. to stare right at the man you hadn’t seen in over seven years.

there was a lot both of you wanted to say. he wanted to apologize for having disappeared out of nowhere, for having abandoned you when things had been going so well between both of you; while you wanted to slap him, cuss him out and scream at him.

alas, all that came out was a choked sob on your behalf. a sound forced out of your throat, displaying the despair you had felt out of the lack of closure.

toji watched with wide eyes as you broke down in front of him. he wanted to make you happy. or get yelled at. anything but you crying. fuck, he was terrible at this.

toji was only ever good at leaving. that’s what he had done back then when his family no longer served him; that’s what megumi’s mother had spat at him before she left.

screw the past. screw all of his fears. he had waited far too long to come clean. you didn’t deserve this at all.

“i’m sorry.” he breathed, taking a step closer, now partially surrounded by the warmth of your place that hadn’t changed in the slightest. “i hid him from you because—”

you shook your head, trembling hands raising to wipe at your reddened eyes, “i don’t give a damn, toji.” he shut his mouth, because respectfully, you had all the right to be angry.

what he didn’t expect was for you to chuckle through tears. “stop looking at me like that,” you pointed at his lips, “that stupid pout of yours��” he had a habit of pursing his lips whenever he was distressed. you hadn’t forgotten about it.

when you stepped aside to welcome toji inside, he was baffled. “‘course you didn’t read the letter,” you sneered, which made him look down grimly, “if you had, you’d know that i could never be mad at you.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

you didn’t ask toji to, but he told you everything. how he had just gotten divorced when he met you, and who had fought for split custody the entire time. who couldn’t have you over at his place because of the child’s room he had.

it wasn’t like he was ashamed to have had megumi. he considered him one of the very few good things in his life. but, he couldn’t risk scaring you off. not when he had found someone as perfect for him as you.

and when things got serious, he did what he knew best. which was to bolt.

it wasn’t a surprise to him that you already knew. he had the wrong idea of you by thinking you’d push him away just because he had a son. now he knew that you could have been the best stepmother megumi could have asked for.

if he hadn’t blown it all.

“so he’s in college now?” you were smiling as you were both situated on your couch. toji feld oddly calm looking at you. you hadn’t changed much.

“this was us at his high school graduation,” he couldn’t help but smile too as he showed you his phone wallpaper. the thought that you could have been on that picture too made your smile fade for a second before you found yourself melting at how proudly he glanced down at his son in his crinkled button-down shirt, one arm lazily slung over the boy who looked at the camera with an irritated, forced smile.

you wondered if megumi would have liked you and already accepted you as his stepmother if toji hadn’t left. wondered if you two would have been married by now—

thoughts like those were useless now.

it happened so fast. like the force of two magnets attracting each other, it felt like you were pulled towards each other. a mumbled ‘i missed you’ left your lips before they planted themselves on his, both of you getting lost in the sensation of the other’s lips.

toji’s lips tasted like salt and popcorn, whereas yours tasted of the peace of candy you had popped into your mouth while waiting for the water to boil.

ah… right. the water. the kettle had stopped whistling a while ago. but both of you were busy sucking each other’s faces to notice that.

you were sat prettily on toji’s lap, hands running across his muscles hidden by his clothes. the only sign of him having aged were the tiny wrinkles on the corners of his eyes. other than that, he still looked like the 31 year-old toji you had met in the line of the grocery store.

he was the same man you had given your heart to. and you were eager to do it all again.

your clothing was shedded in a matter of minutes, hastily and in a rush. it felt like you were being intimate with each other for the first time all over again with wide eyes and shaky hands.

toji pressed you into his chest as he slid inside of you, and it seemed like the world stopped for a while. toji didn’t do soft, he wasn’t gentle. but you could swear you saw nothing but softness and adoration in his eyes in this very moment.

once he started thrusting up into you, your hands straddled his face, fingers digging into his skin as if afraid to let go. toji saw and felt the fear in your eyes, and he took both of your hands to place soft kisses on them.

“‘m not leaving again,” he grunted, relishing in the tightness and warmth he was buried inside of, “promise.”

you whimpered, nodding as you pulled him into yet another sensual, messy kiss while you worked each other through your releases. out of all the times you and toji had sex, this had to be the rawest, most intimate time.

it wasn’t fucking. it was love-making. the kind you’d never expect from a man like toji.

he stayed inside of you after both of you came, buff arms trapping you as you listened to his slowing heartbeat as both of you trembled. neither of you wanted to move, if you could, you’d stay like this forever.

toji’s lips against your temple pulled you back from your daze, and you reached for your underwear to avoid a mess, sighing softly when he pulled out of you. “shower?” he asked, to which you nodded lazily.

before he could lift and throw you over his shoulder, you placed a kiss on his collarbone.

“let’s eat instant noodles and rewatch the episode after that. since you haven’t read the letter—”

oh, toji was never going to hear the end of this.

but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk toji x reader #toji x reader smut #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji zenin x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst #jjk fluff #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x you #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader smut

[angelltheninth]

A Few More Minutes and Then Some More

Pairing: Manjiro "Mikey" Sano x FemReader

Tags: fluff, cuddles, sharing a bed, cuddles, making out, lazy day, domestic fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Flufftober Day 8: Rainy Day

A/N: I was really looking forward to this flufftober piece, hope you enjoy!

Rainy days weren't that bad of a thing to you, if anything it was an excuse to stay in bed for a little while longer and be lazy for the day. You couldn't think of a better day to spend inside and you couldn't think of a better person to spend it then your boyfriend. If only he would answer your phone calls. Hopefully he's not in some kind of trouble again, or worse in a hospital again.

No, if he was you would have gotten a call already, you're in his emergency contacts after all. Mikey was probably just busy hanging out with his friends, not getting into trouble this time around. Yeah right! He's always getting into some kind of trouble.

Regardless you knew he would be visiting sometime today, he promised. While you got dressed for the day you kept looking over at your phone, waiting for a call or a text, but you were in and out of the bathroom and still nothing. What could he be doing on a rainy day like this that required so much attention? "Am I needy?" Yes, you probably were and it was Mikey's fault for spoiling you.

The rest of your morning routine went without a phone call too. You were right in the middle of making yourself breakfast when there was a series of quick knocks on the door.

You didn't bother to look who it was, it could only be one person. Although you weren't expecting to see Mikey standing in the hallways soaked to the bone.

"You gonna let me in or do I need to ask nicely?" He turned his head up a little to meet your eyes, his hands suspiciously hiding in the pockets of his pants and the top of his foot tapping impatiently against the floor. "Need a kiss for payment?"

Yes, but not right now, "Get in here already." When he passed by you he left little puddles in his wake, the rain draining down his clothes. He looked like he'd been in the rain for a while, there's no way he could have gotten this soaked just from walking to here, it's not even raining that hard yet.

Granted Mikey didn't seem to be shivering at all, which again begs the question, if f he's running to hot he can't feel the cold rain, what the hell has he been up to. "Something in here smells good. What you making babe?" He was careful when running his hand through his hair to get it off his face, he didn't want to splash any more rain around. Mikey turned to you a little smile on his face and beckoned you closer.

"Just bacon and eggs. If you called me I would have made you something too." You approached him while paying mind to the water. When you were close enough he made a move to pull you closer, "Ah-ah, nope. I'm not kissing you like that." You pressed your hand against his face and steered him in the direction of the bathroom, "Go take a bath before you make yourself sick!" Mikey was durable, but he wasn't gonna win a fight against Mother Nature.

"Wanna join me? I might need a little... extra something to warm me up in all the right places." He made a slight hip thrusting motion that he knew would only get him an eyeroll but it was more then worth a try in his opinion. Luckily he turned around just in time not to see your face getting hotter then...

"Shit! My breakfast!" You rushed back into the kitchen, saving your breakfast, mostly anyway.

The water in the shower kept distracting you as you ate. There was a slight urge to take Mikey up on his offer and join him but today was meant to be a lazy day. The next day? Maybe not so lazy.

Mikey though seemed hellbent on making it not a lazy day for either of you as he came out of the bathroom bare-chested and grinning happily. That wasn't what drew your attention though, "Your fists, you were in a fight after all." They were covered in bruises and not it was clear to you why he kept them in his pockets. Right as you noticed he showed them back in, shrugging like it was no big deal, "Nope, not today Mikey, let me have a look."

You took his hands in yours and looked at the little red bruises on his knuckles. The skin was scratched, splintered in various formds of healing but red around, probably due to the hot water he used to take the shower. If he needed to get his fists this banged up the it must have been quite the fight.

Mikey used to hide his injuries from you a lot more when you were only friends, and when you first began dating. Lately he seems to enjoy it when you treat them. At least the smaller ones.

"You should…"

"See the other guys? Yeah, I'm sure they've got it worse." You rubbed your thumbs over the injured knuckles, careful not to press down and make it uncomfortable for him.

Mikey shook his head, another smirk thrown your way, "I wanted to say give me something to wear but if you want me to tell you about the guys I beat up I can. I'm sure it's gonna be a fun story for a nap." You felt heat spreading across your face as you looked down his chest and abs, where little drops of water dripped down into the waistline of his pants. "Then again, maybe you want me more naked."

"Y-You're spending way too much time around Draken!" Or maybe he was finally opening up to you more. After all he's known Draken for longer. "Anyway, today is a lazy rainy day. None of that for you." None of you either but you could keep that to yourself. "Let's get you to bed, you look like you need to sit down and rest." Mikey didn't protest, he just smiled at you and pulled you into his lap when you showed him to the bed. "Mikey! What did I just say?" There was nowhere to go with his arms pulling you against his chest and more importantly his big grin enticing you to get even closer.

When you were close enough he stole a kiss, or two, or three from you. Well, is it really stealing if you give them away so easily.

"Not fair." You rubbed your nose against his and brushed his hair off his forehead, "Your hair is still wet. You really want to catch that cold huh?" Your hands reached for the blanket and draped it around his shoulders, looking very much like he did when he wore his jacket.

"No, just want you close to me. It's better when it's like this." He pulled you down with him, arms around your back and lips against yours, tongue asking for and being granted access to your mouth so easily. "That's better."

You put your whole weight on him, which to him wasn't hard to support, he's been in many brawls where most were taller, heavier and stronger then him and he still came out on top. Right now though he wants you to be on top of him, warming him up with your body, sinking in between his legs and pressing your breasts against his chest, so god damn soft, almost feels like a dream to him.

One hand moved down to your thigh, fingers dancing as far down as he could reach, then slowly back up and snapping the band of your pants against your skin. The sudden sting made your hips buck against his, definitely feeling a little more then you thought you would.

"Pervert." You kissed the word against his neck, leaving red lipstick marks there, marking him as he marked you so many times before. Mikey didn't comment, he didn't push for anything more then kissing, despite what you could so clearly feel down bellow. He seemed too tired to actually go through with what his body wanted. "Sleep, you little hothead."

"In a minute." His voice was already so groggy, his eyelids heavy and breathing evening out, along with yours, "Want to hold you a bit more." You nodded and leaned your head on his chest and sighed when he pulled the blanked from behind his back and on top of the both you, "Don't want you catching a cold either."

He came all this way to see you, after a fight and during rainfall nonetheless, all so he could have an excuse to shower and cuddle at your place. But you couldn't be all that mad at him. Behind that hard, tough guy exterior he really did have a heart of gold. And that heartbeat of his, right in your ear, just so happened to put you to sleep better then simple rain ever could.

#tokyo revengers x reader #manjiro sano x reader #tokyo rev x reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #manjiro sano imagine #tokyo rev imagine #mikey imagines #tokyo revengers fanfiction #manjiro sano fanfiction #tokyo rev fanfiction #mikey fanfiction #tokyo revengers fluff #manjiro sano fluff #tokyo rev fluff #mikey fluff #tokyo revengers x you #manjiro sano x you #tokyo rev x you #mikey x you #x female reader #flufftober

[7ndipity]

Mine

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: Joon gets easily jealous, but do you mind, really?

Warnings: Swearing, Joonie’s kinda possessive, very suggestive

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Sorry it took a few extra days, this month’s been a lot, but we’re finally starting to feel better! This one started off angsty in my drafts but somehow turned out way more suggestive than I planned (At what point should I start a blog for spicy fics? lmk)

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on in Namjoon’s head that evening, mouth pressed into a hard, thin line as he only half followed the conversation he was currently in the middle of, but you could feel the weight of his eyes constantly tracking you from across the room as you talked with one of the other artists that were at the event Joon had invited you to as his plus one.

You fought the slight urge to roll your own eyes as you caught his hard stare through the crowd, trying your best to ignore him for the moment and keep your focus on your own conversation.

This was starting to become a recurring situation between the two of you; if he saw you getting too close (in his opinion anyway) to another guy, or sometimes anyone at all, his stubborn jealousy would rear its ugly head, turning your normally sweet and understanding boyfriend sour and possessive.

He, of course, vehemently denied that that was what it was, that the other person was just giving him bad vibes and he was just looking out for you, although you couldn’t help wondering if/when he would notice that the those ‘vibes’ he kept picking up on was just their interest in you.

Almost as if on cue, you felt a familiar pair of hands land on your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing patterns against your sides through the fabric of your outfit, though it was unclear whether it was meant to calm you or him.

“Having a good time?” He asked, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. You didn’t miss the way his tone went up at the end in annoyance, despite his rather feeble attempt to mask it.

“I am, what about you?” You replied, tilting your head to look back at him.

“I think I’ve had my fill of socializing for one evening. Shall we go?”

“Do we have to?” You asked.

“I would like to.” He said, leaning closer. “I’ve also had my fill of other people stealing your attention from me.” He whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

The car ride home was unusually quiet. You noticed that he was still tense based on the way he was gripping the steering wheel, but you chose to leave it be, leaving him the responsibility to present the topic to you if there was something truly bothering him.

You barely made it through the door though before he was on you, catching you in a bruising kiss as he pressed you back against the wall.

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” He mumbled against your lips. “Couldn’t stand the way they kept looking at you.”

“They weren’t.” You gasped between kisses.

“You don’t see what I do.” He said, trailing kisses over your jaw and down your neck to your pulse point.

“Who cares?” You replied, hands struggling to find purchase on his shoulders.

“I do.” He practically growled.

“You shouldn’t.”

Your response made his head whip back up to look at you. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because they don’t matter.” You said, cupping his face in your hands, feeling the heat of his skin against your palms. “I only want you, no one else. You believe that, right?”

He sighed, instinctively leaning into your touch. “Of course I do, I just don’t like people thinking that they can take what’s mine.”

“Yours?” You raised your brows at him. ”What, like you own me?”

He shook his head. “Absolutely not! You belong to only yourself. But-” He stopped, unsure of how to continue.

“But?” You urged, catching him off guard as you wound your hands into his hair and gave a quick tug.

His eyes darkened. “But you're mine.” He pressed another hot kiss to your mouth, stealing your breath as he spoke. “You’re mine and I’m yours. Only yours.”

You relented for the moment, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of him as his hands ghosted over your body, making you press even closer to him.

"Mine."

#namjoon oneshot #namjoon scenario #namjoon scenarios #namjoon drabble #namjoon blurbs #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #bts scenarios #bts one shot #bts reaction #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts blurb #bts smut #bts requests #7ndipity

[sweetiecutie]

OMG! For the event, how about some hcs from when Valeria was in jail? And reader is her cellmate, and just get on her nerves. I go crazy thinking about this. And when Valeria broke out of jail, she take the reader with her aaaaaa.

Pairing: Valeria Garza x fem! Reader

Warnings: jail?, criminal stuff I dunno, lesbians in love and escaping from jail, prison riot but not too intense

A/n: omg YES! Why does this gives off Jojolion vibes?😆

Valeria knows all too well how to behave in a jail. How to handle herself in certain provocative situations, how to gain status around these places. It’s not like she intended to stay in prison for long, but it’s better to be respected among bastards than to be their bottom.

And here were you, her cellmate - a pretty little thing with a personality of a devil, who got in jail for hitting your cheating ex with his car. You weren’t exactly popular or on top of prison’s hierarchy, but you weren’t one of the slaves either.

First week Valeria had to quite literally fight back her urges to strangle you - this is how much you tried to get under her skin. She just clenched her jaw, inhaled deeply and closed her eyes in attempt to calm herself down as you kept on taunting her, with or without any reason.

But at the same time you were never aggressive, indicating that all of your relentless teasing was just your own way of trying to get along with your cellmate. God knows how long you were gonna spend together - it’s better be friends anyways. And without noticing, Valeria made a crucial mistake - started liking you.

You spent numerous nights muddled up in your bunk bed, talking about all the things in the world. You started developing a very intimate connection - not exactly friendship, but something way deeper then that.

At the same time Valeria wasn’t wasting her time, pulling all the right strings inside and outside the prison, getting everything prepared and ready for her escape.

A huge riot was about to happen among prisoners, Valeria’s own people were ready to break into the prison, helping her to get out. Tension was almost palpable in the air, and a dam finally broke as one day a fight occurred between a guard and one of the prisoners - chaos went loose.

Valeria didn’t lose a perfect opportunity, her military skills coming in handy while tackling a few guards to the floor, pocketing their guns and patrons while making her way out of the jail, her cartel soldiers flooding in the building gradually.

You were unlucky to end up in a middle of a huge carnage - people were fighting everywhere, prisoners pubbeling guards and other prisoners, place smelt strongly of sweat and blood, noise so hard, it made your insides shake. You were of a smaller complexion, standing no chance to other, way bigger and stronger women; you were practically dumbstruck, too terrified to move an inch.

Suddenly, someone grabbed you by the shoulder, tugging you forcefully towards them. You squeaked, trying to fight back until two strong hands grabbed both of your wrists, enabling all of your movements. You squeezed your eyes shut, too scared to face the attacker.

“Y/n, for fucks sake!” You heard an angry shout, eyes snapping open to look at the person who grabbed you. It was your cellmate - Valeria, covered in blood and thin sheen of sweat, panting heavily, a few guns attached to her waist.

“We’re leaving, now!” She shouted, letting go of one of your hands, tugging you in direction of the washhouse. Once there, you saw numerous heavily armed people in balaclavas waiting for you two, all windows blown out. Valeria pushed you towards the window, you made quick job of getting out, Garza and her men following closely behind.

About a half a kilometer far in the woods surrounding the prison, a few cars were waiting for you. You didn’t remember much, just how you got shoved into a backseat and Valeria’s shouting as she said something angrily in Spanish, soldiers nodding to her words, replying sometimes as well.

Soon you arrived at the makeshift base, not able to go any further since all police were out in the streets, searching for escaped prisoners. Situation was slightly easier since you were not the only ones who escaped - about half of prisoners used blown out windows of the washhouse to get out, distracting policemen as well.

Once settled in a temporary base, Valeria approached you. “We’re going to Mexico” she informed plainly, plopping down on a couch with a heavy sigh. You nodded your head, at her words; both of you were silent for nearly ten minutes before you decided to break the silence “Why me?” You asked, making Valeria perk up at the sound of your voice.

“Why did you decide to take me with you?” You said, looking at Valeria expectedly. Her expression didn’t change even a littlest bit, as she said plainly - “I like you”. You raised an eyebrow at her reply, obviously not satisfied with her answer. “You seem like one of my people, you know? Don’t give a shit about what others think, do whatever you want but still loyal to your friends. I like these qualities. And I want you close to me. So, what do you say?” She explained, dark eyes looking over to you expectedly.

You stayed silent for a few minutes, trying to take in all the events of this eventful day, before sighing heavily. “Do I have a choice? Your men will come after me if I say no” you joked, slumping against the backrest of an old shabby armchair. Valeria grinned, gazing at your relaxed form with great interest.

She nodded towards the door in the corner. “Shower is over there. Let me know if you suddenly feel lonely” she winked, sly smirk curling her full lips. You got up, heeding towards the bathroom “Oh, I will, don’t worry” you shot back, winking at Valeria as well, making sure to sway your hips seductively on your way there. Hell yes, did Valeria like you.

#writing event #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria mw2 #valeria el sin nombre garza #el sin nombre #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza x you #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty modern warfare

[libraryofloveletters]

Can’t Get Away From You

Erling Haaland x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: a mini fight, some shouting, one mention of throwing something at someone, your boyfriend is attached to your hip and follows you like a puppy, power outages, jumpscares, some swearing, stuck in the middle of no where. 

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: okay I lied, I know I said no fics but this was in my drafts and I had the urge to finish it :) also this was a random idea that @themandaloriansdiaries​ and I came up with on ft many many nights ago

-- 

"Why do you always do this?” You shouted at the man across the room from you. 

Your boyfriend stares at you like you had gone insane and sometimes he thought you were, but tonight’s shouting was justified.

The two of you were supposed to go to your sister’s surprise birthday party but big shocker, Erling chose to stay back and kick a ball around for another 2 hours. Their training session was already done, he had no reason to stay back and yet he did. You were waiting for him so you could go together opposed to taking two cars because he kept telling you 10 more minutes and he’d be home, but you ended up being two hours late to your own sister’s party.

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” He looks at you and you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Yes, because that makes up for the fact that I was late to my sister’s party. You’d never do that to your sister, would you? And you know I would never do that to her either. I actually care to show up when I say I will.” 

“Y/n, you're overreacting. She didn’t even care that you were late.” He huffed, sitting on the couch. 

You cannot believe him; he was late, had the audacity to tell you she didn’t even care and now he can't even stand up so you can shout at him? You were sick of his shit, you needed to leave before you threw something at his head. 

The man watches as you grab your purse and phone, storming out of the front door and letting it slam shut behind you. He gets up, following you out the door.  

“Where are you going?” He shouts from the porch, you don’t answer but instead get into your car and back out of the driveway. 

You had no idea where you were going but you needed to be anywhere but there. 

You drove for what felt like hours before you finally stopped in some random parking lot off the side of the road; you had driven out of the city and into the countryside. Hunger was kicking in and you tumbled through your purse for a mint, a piece of gum or literally anything edible. Eventually giving up on the tumbling, you dumped the contents of your purse into the passenger seat and switched on the light. 

There’s a set of keys staring at you, a bright blue man city key chain hung on the bunch; the keys to the cabin. 

Shortly after you and Erling began dating, the two of you decided you needed a place to go when you wanted to be away from the city. That’s how you ended up with a cabin 3 hours outside of Manchester. 

The sky was varying shades of the black and the once viable moon was now blocked by clouds. You figured since you were closer to the cabin then you were home, you might as well spend the night there. 

Another hour and you pulled into the muddy driveway, it seemed to have rained at some point during the day. You silently thank your boyfriend in your head for putting in sensor lights, otherwise you might have just slept in the car. The yard was pitch black and the Remingtons, the couple who owned the house across from your place, were away for the summer which meant you were all alone in the middle of nowhere. 

The thought freaked you out, but not enough to make you turn back and go home. 

You shoved everything back into your purse, slinging it over your shoulder as you avoided the puddles of mud on your way to the front door. The look clicked as you turned the key and you sprinted into the cabin, shutting the door behind you. 

A hand dragged across the wall, feeling for the light switch and you pressed it, lighting up the place. You also turned on the light in the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom because you were alone.. not because you were scared or anything like that. 

The cupboards were pretty empty, anything of substance was eaten the last time you two were there because you didn’t want it to go bad. The only things were a few boxes of mashed potatoes, a can of corn and one can of sliced pineapple. 

You couldn't be bothered to cook so you pulled the pineapple can out and was about to crack it open when there was a knock on the front door. 

It was safe to say your blood ran cold. 

The Remingtons were gone, you were certain of that because they told you to check on the house when you come down if you did, which meant they weren’t there. 

No one else lived around here, and you can’t just say no one is home because you switched on every light possible. 

Setting the can down, you slowly made your way to the door. You waited to hear if there’s another knock, you peeked out the front window in hopes of catching a glimpse of whatever was outside. 

“Babe!” The voice called, startling you. “Open up!” 

You groaned, the voice belonging to none other than your boyfriend. You opened the door, unfortunately, and found your giant of a boyfriend standing there with a bag in hand.

“Are you gonna make me stand in the rain?” He asks, the hood over his head blocking the water from his face. “I figured you didn’t eat dinner, so I brought you something to eat.” He stepped into the house; he was so big, you couldn’t really stop him if you wanted too.

“When the rain stops, I want you out.” You turn to him and he smiles, nodding. 

He handed the bag over to you, the smell of Chinese food filling your surroundings. You refused to cave, holding your ground and staying mad at him. He shut the door behind him, turning the locks. 

“What the fuck man? How’d you know I was here?” You handed the bag over to him, acting like you didn’t want it. Erling shrugged, taking the bag back and going to the kitchen. 

He unpacked the boxes, setting them on the counter. “You left your location on.” 

You groaned quietly, cursing yourself for leaving it on. Erling ignores your theatrics and puts some food on a plate for you, bringing it over to you and setting it on your lap. He knew you well enough to know if he offered the plate to you, you’d refuse and you needed to eat; part of why you were so snappy with him was because you were hungry. 

He can’t help but notice how you un-tense now that he’s around; it brought a smile to his face but he didn’t dare say anything. 

Erling sat beside you, eating quietly.

“Can we play a board game?” He asked, setting the plate on the coffee table. 

“No.” 

Erling hummed, going to dig the monopoly box out from the tv stand drawer. He set up the board, all the little pieces, the cards and the dice and began playing by himself. 

You ignored the man, trying not to laugh as he screwed him over on one of the places he wanted. He rolled the dice, counting out the places he needed to move when the lights shut off. 

The sound of thunder startled out, causing you to jump slightly. 

“Babe, you okay?” He called, getting up. “Ow fuc-” he groans, probably stepping on one of the little pieces. 

“I’m fine,” you get up, walking to the kitchen to get your phone off the table. It wasn’t pitch black, you can still make your way around the house so you searched through the kitchen cupboards for some candles, anything that can give you light for the time being. 

Erling had gone quiet, you were about to turn around to see where he was but a hand on your shoulder caused you to drop your phone and let out a scream. 

“It’s just me,” he laughed and you smacked his arm. 

“What the fuck man! God, you are so- ugh.” 

You sit at the table, phone back in hand as you called the power company. They finally get to your call after an hour on hold and let you know that the power won’t be turning back on until tomorrow morning. 

The phone dropped on the table, your head tipped back as you groaned. 

Erling reaches for the candles on the top shelf and lights them, setting them on the table. He sits across from you quietly, the two of you listening to the rain until the sound stops, the last flash of lighting strikes and it goes quiet. 

He looks out the window and back at you, the soft orange glow of the candle light reflecting off of your skin. “I should head out,” he says, pulling your focus to him. 

“What?” 

“The rain.. it stopped. You said leave when it’s done raining.” He reminds you, standing up. 

“Oh.. right, yeah. Okay, go ahead.” 

Erling kisses your head when he walks past you, telling you to call him if you needed anything but you ignored him, still holding out on being upset even though you weren’t anymore. 

The door shuts, you move from your spot at the dining room table to the couch but before you could sit down, the doorbell rings again. “What?” You shouted, walking over to see what he wanted. 

He smiles at you when you open the door, pointing to the tree that’s fallen and blocked the driveway. “I’m stuck.” 

“Use that viking strength of yours and push it away.” You shut the door again and went back to the couch. 

You felt a bit bad, the guilt of him sitting out in the rain sunk in, even more so seeing that you had nothing to distract you. You pulled yourself off the couch and opened the door again, assuming you’d see his car on and him in it but it was off, the driveway was dark and the tree was still there. 

“Erling?!” You shouted in the emptiness, “where are you?!”

There’s no answer but what are you supposed to do? Stand out in the rain or maybe go looking for him in the dark? 

You shut the door, turning back around to see him sitting at the kitchen table.

“WHAT THE FUCK ERLING?!” You screamed, your heart jumping out of your body momentarily. You let out a breath, hand pressed to your chest. “How the hell did you get in here?” 

“The back door was open.” 

“Why are you lurking at the back- wait, it was unlocked?” Your brows furrowed, looking towards the back door. 

Erling nodded, “yeah, I wasn’t lurking though. I went to check if the generator would turn on.” 

“And it did?” You wrapped the blanket from the couch around yourself. 

Erling looked up at the light that’s yet to turn on. “I mean, obviously not.” 

It was freezing in the cabin, considering that the power had shut off and it was raining, it only made it colder. 

“C’mere,” Erling calls for you, his arms opened as he waits for you to come cuddle up next to him. You shook your head, waddling your way to the bedroom. Your boyfriend follows you, watching as you dropped on the bed and pulled the comforter up on top of you. 

You can feel the cold running up your spine, the cold air creeping along your skin despite the two blankets and the giant man in the room lifting the blanket wasn’t helping. 

“What are you doing?” You grumbled, not turning around. 

Erling slipped into bed next to you, pulling you flat against his chest. His body was like a heater, the man wrapping his arms around you and kissing your shoulder before fixing the blanket. 

You tried to wiggle away but he held you firmly in place. “You can stay mad but I'm not letting you freeze.” 

You let your boyfriend hold you, simply because it's cold and not because you were mad at yourself for being mad at him for no reason. At some point, the two of you must've dozed off.

-- 

The lights were what woke you up; bright white lights shining down on you from the ceiling and the fact that the curtains were still open didn't help your eyes that were now adjusting to being open again. 

There’s some heavy on you, you can’t even pull yourself up and you’re almost certain you know what it is. You look down to find your giant of a boyfriend on top of you. His arm tossed over your hip, face smooshed against your stomach as he snored quietly. 

You smiled, forgetting all about last night as you pulled the hair tie from his hair. He stirred, settling moments later when you passed your hand through his hair. Your fingers rubbed along his scalp, massaging his head. 

“Morning,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your stomach. He kicked the blanket off of him, “it's hot.” 

“Power turned back on.” 

He shifts, laying beside you and pulling you into his side. “I’m sorry about last night.” 

“Mhm hm, I know.” Your fingers dragged along his shirt. Erling looked down at you, “are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Sorry,” he says, like it's obvious. 

“No,” you joked, smiling at him. Erling knows you were, you don’t really do emotions or say sorry but he knows you are. 

He laughs, kissing your forehead.“Shall we go get breakfast?” 

You groan, burying your face in his side. “We have to take two cars.” “Oh and move the tree.” He reminds you, making you groan again. 

--- 

taglist: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle​ @kylianswag​

add yourself to the taglist! 

#erling haaland #erling haaland x you #erling haaland x reader #erling haaland x y/n #erling haaland imagine #erling haaland fanfic #erling haaland fluff #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football imagine #football fic #football fanfic

[autisticlancemcclain]

Pidge stares hard at her twisted fingers. Her eyes have long since begun to burn, and she holds her face carefully parallel to the floor, knees presses to the sides of her head, watching as her vision gets blurrier and heavier, until eventually the tear drops from her eyes and splatters on her glasses.

“How did you handle it?” she asks hoarsely, not even looking up. “The homesickness.”

For a while Lance doesn’t say anything. His breathing is steady and near-silent, quick little inhales and long, shallow exhales. Practiced breathing, when he’s choking back tears. He does it several times a day. Sometimes Pidge can’t stand to look at him. She doesn’t understand where he puts it all, the sadness that is constantly bubbling out of him. Doesn’t understand where he finds the strength to let his voice get choked up in the middle of a sentence and keep going like there’s nothing wrong. She feels hot shame heat up her own body, in the clear absence of his; a secondhand embarrassment at emotion that shouldn’t be advertised so easily, so trustingly, so constantly.

Eventually he sighs. When Pidge looks up there are tears in his brown eyes, as there so often are, but she fights the urge to look away and tucks herself under his open arm, instead.

It’s warm, in his hold. Bony too. But he holds her without fear of squeezing too tightly, winds his long arm around her back and shoulders and presses her face into his neck. He smells, as he always does, of flowers, although Pidge could not identify what kinds, and she imagines that she’s sat under the rows and rows of shelves in her mother’s greenhouse, watching her work. Her hands shake so she winds them around the creases of Lance’s jacket and grips tightly.

“I don’t,” he says after thinking about it. “I carry it with me. I always have.”

Pidge thinks she knew that, in her bones. She thinks she understood that about Lance from the very second she first saw him, two years ago at the Garrison auditorium in September; this boy who slouched and grinned and shot finger guns and laughed like a hyena and cried four times a day. The boy whose eyes were deep and dark and filled with an abyssal pain that hurts to look at. Off-putting.

“That sounds lonely.”

Lance hums. He shifts, resting his chin on the top of her head. She feels the slow drip of his tears, down his nose and plopping onto her scalp, and parcels at how his heartbeat doesn’t change, the ease in his voice. The shaky steel of it.

“It is. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t. Lonely. It’s just something I carry.”

Her breath shudders out of her, big and large and shaking her shoulders. She hears what he doesn’t say: I have gotten used to it. She thinks to herself: I will never get used to this weight.

She says: “I don’t understand.”

Ever so slowly, he begins to rock them back and forth, barest sway of their bodies. His lips press her hairline. Her face crumples and her breathing quickens as she forces down the tears, shoves back the mirroring feeling, the mixing of Lance and Matt happening in her head.

“When I was four my oldest brother moved away. He was getting married. I never got over that, I don’t think. He lived down the street longer than he lived down the hall but I never really stopped missing him.”

He pauses for a moment, and Pidge knows it’s deliberate in the way his whole body stops moving, pondering, before starting again.

“Sometimes I miss him on purpose.”

Pidge pulls away, enough to look him in the face, to watch his sad eyes and slight smile and the familiarity in the uncanny expression, the Lance of it.

“Why?” she asks desperately, hands twisting further in his sleeves. “Why would you ever — on purpose?”

“Because I love him on purpose.” The tears drip down Lance’s face as a steady waterfall and he doesn’t even flinch at them, doesn’t even blink. Lets his eyes fill and spill over again and again like cupped hands under a leaking faucet. “When I miss my mom I love her. When I miss my sister I love her. When I miss my brother I love him. When I miss Keith I love him. When I miss you, I love you.” He gently pulls his sleeves away from her clutched fingers, wrapping his hands around them instead and squeezing. “The grief hurts like a never healing wound. But I’m terrified of not having that. I don’t want to wake up one day without the reminder of how deeply I’ve loved and how deeply it will always be a part of me, that love. I don’t know how I’d ever function without it.”

“You don’t function with it,” Pidge argues. “It — haunts you. I see it in your face.”

Lance shrugs. “I function with it. I function because of it. Every day that I miss them I live because I will miss them until I see them again. It’s an — anticipation, almost. I miss you and I can’t wait to see you again mean the same thing.”

A strange noise bursts out from Pidge’s throat, gut-punching. I miss you and I can’t wait to see you again mean the same thing.

She misses her brother in her bones. Her father in her blood. Her mother in her heart.

Waiting to see them again pulses at every level in her body. That’s — manageable.

“Oh,” she says, and she means oh, in the way you blink your eyes open in the mornings. Oh, I see now. Oh, that hurts. Oh, it’s bright.

Lance squeezes her hands again. “There are worse things than loving so much it hurts you,” he says softly.

“Oh,” Pidge says again. “Oh.”

#i have been carrying this for a while i think #hm. anyways #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #pidge #pidge holt #pidge & lance #brown eyed lance #langst #pidge angst #pidge is so young actually #hurt/comfort #klance #like barely and if u squint but idc #my writing #fic #longpost

[konigbabe]

John Price headcanons (SFW & NSFW)

Author: @konigbabe

Pairing: John Price x f!reader

Warnings: domestic!Price; fluff; nsfw [smut] below the cut

A/N: A small bunch of relationship-related headcanons I came up with ever since my obsession over Capt. Price came to life. This is my own idea of how Price is in a relationship! NSFW under the cut.

masterlist • request • faq • taglist • AO3

─ ୨ SFW ୧ ─

Okay, so you two definitely met either during one of his missions with TF 141 when you were assigned to help or at some pub near his place.

If you two met at the pub, he made the first move almost immediately after spotting you.

"And I thought the scotch was the only good thing about this place."

For the fun of it, you dodged his advances at first but at the end of the day, you agreed on a date.

If you two met on a mission, he didn't act on his attraction towards you until the mission was successfully and completely over. He was your captain and a professional after all.

You said the L word first despite him knowing he loved you since your first kiss.

He doesn't hurry anything. That's why it took him ages to ask you to move in with him.

He's not home too much and always getting called back to work but when he is at home, his days revolve mostly around you.

You love dancing with him even when he's just standing in the middle of your living room while you circle around him dancing to modern pop. He prefers 80s and 90s music - what he grew up on - but still lets you have a blast with to Lady Gaga or Beyonce.

He loves cooking you breakfast, especially because he wakes up before you and won't wait for you to cook for him.

He's a tea drinker while you love your cup of coffee.

You always wear his shirts at home - they are comfortable and warm and if he's not home, they are your reminder of him.

Sometimes, he lets you trim his beard in the morning - you still in his old shirt that you use as pjs, sitting on the bathroom counter with his calloused hands running up and down your thighs and his eyes fixated on your focused gaze as you ever-so-carefully slide the blade on his cheeks.

He's a silent observer - watching you dust, cook, read or do your favorite things, he will always be around, his eyes never leaving your figure as you move around the house.

Price isn't a big fan of PDA but he goes absolutely feral when someone hits on you outside. He wraps his arm around your waist or holds your hand or even gives you a kiss just to prove that you belong together.

Not a big fan of dates outside the house - he would rather cook you a romantic dinner and run a warm bath with rose petals and candles just so you two can spend the evening together, without the prying eyes of other people.

He always buys you candles even tho you never lit them (except for the dates).

He's absolutely a sucker for skinship even inside the house - his hands always on your waist, fingertips grazing your arms, casual kisses on temple/forehead/jawline/neck or literally anywhere he can reach, "thank yous" always followed by a peck on the lips.

The primal urge you give him whenever he sees you doing your evening yoga to relax your muscles before bed...

─ ୨ NSFW ୧ ─

...and you know what your yoga routine does to him so you use it as a weapon whenever you want to fuck.

Price is a switch but still remains a power bottom.

He's a pussy-pleaser and a gentleman inside and outside the bedroom - ladies always first (preferably multiple times).

He loves eating you out while you're sitting on a table or the edge of the bed.

He prefers deep penetration positions where he can see your face and touch you - his ultimate favorite is the cowgirl.

He secretly likes it when you take control from time to time, holding his hands above his head while sinking deep on his cock as he watches you take all of him, the feeling of proudness only adding to his pleasure as he snaps his hips upwards, getting a satisfying moan out of you.

He always, always makes sure to clean you out with his tongue afterward as you lay on the bed, completely submitted to his mercy.

Both of you are big on aftercare.

He's a gentle dominant lover most of the time but there are days, usually right after he comes home from work when the only thing he wants to do is spend the rest of the day balls deep inside you - you two don't even need to be fucking, he just wants your cunt to warm his cock, to feel the tight squeeze of you.

During those days, he sometimes goes totally primal in bed - sure, he makes sure you come before he's even inside you but after that? You feel like nothing but his own sex toy as he manhandles you into any position known to humankind and uses your body to chase his own desired high. And you taking it all makes him love you even more.

The first time he wrapped his fingers around your throat and the sound you made, it caused him to lose his rhythm as he watched your pupils grow and moans become louder than he ever heard.

He loves it when you deepthroat him but never forces you to do it.

He was the first person to make your legs shake during sex - you always believed it was only a myth until you met Price.

He might need some time recovering after each round but that man can go for HOURS - he's a captain for a reason after all.

#cod #callofduty #codmwii #callofdutymodernwarfare2 #captain price #john price #captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain price smut #john price smut #captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price headcanons #headcanons #cod headcanons #captain price headcanons #headcanon #smut #moni writes

[duyxjpg]

Text messages between you & your f1 besties pt. 4

Summary: Just random dialogues between you & your f1 besties + your crush. Friends in question: Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris & Max Verstappen Note: Eventually the boys will take the matters in their own hands since it hurts physically to watch you (be so chaotic). Part 4 of the non ending saga is ready ofc with more chaotic Y/N content + bonus part.

Y/N always fake flirting with Charles just to annoy him. It always works..

Lando receiving his daily dose of headache at 01:34 AM as usual nothing new really..

Gossip girls are just dirty minded. Nothing wrong with Y/N and Maxie at all?!

You believe me when I say Charles is sometimes done with Y/N? Unbelievable but true.

Y/N being Y/N

What do you mean you see someone Bob? You gotta be more specific about it!!

Nothing just Y/N flirting with her babygirl Max.

Tf you mean you don't love Y/N more than Carlos? Is that even possible?

Next target 👉🏼 Christian Horner ✔️shit happens - check

Steiner just don't know yet what he is getting himself into. Y/N is not the one to take a hint and get out of trouble. Hard to believe that Y/N is a troublemaker right?

****************************************************

B o n u s :

random short insight into Y/N life with the boys:

„You are not going to do no such thing!” Y/N protested stamping her feet like a toddler, standing in the middle of the gaming hall.

“Why not? You like him, don’t you?” Charles grinned at Y/N widely. Y/N wanted to punch that smug grin off his pretty face. Y/N wanted to escape this very situation she was forced to be in, well sort of, so badly.

“Don’t grin like the cheshire cat and stop talking nonsense. How dare you?!” Y/N smacked Charles arm. Charles rubbed his arm while trying not to burst laughing.  She looked around. Nervosity took over Y/Ns every single cell. Y/N could not believe that her so called friends made plans with the most handsome and perfect f1 driver on the grid at a gaming hall and did not tell her. Out of million places, the gossip girls choose violence and took her to the gaming hall. Y/N was competitive af and hated losing. The last time she went to a gaming hall Y/N had entry ban for three months.

As Y/N wanted to protest again Lando and Max did their entry. Lando was smiling from ear to ear. What a dumb man Y/N thought, trying the urge to roll her eyes. As for Max, he had his nonchalant way of looking. Casually dressed, his hands in his pockets and smiling at Y/N. What a man Y/N thought. Her "I have a crush on Max Verstappen" vibe was visible from the moon. Awkwardly greeting both of the drivers Y/N wanted to run away. She could feel the elephant in her stomach, yes elephants no butterflies, period.

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

“Y/N please calm down!” Lando laughed at Y/N. Y/N was horrible at racing games and currently she was losing miserably.

“I hate you all, how is this even a fair game? Racing with f1 drivers? What a fugging joke.” Y/N protested for the 100x time in the last five passing minutes.

“Since when do you care about fair play?” Charles mocked Y/N. Since I am terribly losing Y/N thought. She pointed Charles her favourite finger.

“Remember when you cold heartedly with a total serious expression explained me the rules to that one game wrongly so you could win?” Lando questioned with a fake disappointed look in his face.

“You did not!” Max laughed out loud. Laugh again you loser Y/N thought. It sounded like music in Y/N ears. What a beautiful man Y/N thought.

“It’s not my fault, it’s your own stupidity.” Y/N shrug and showed Lando her tongue. Y/N could see from the corner of her eye that Max was smiling while shaking his head. So pretty Y/N thought.

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

“I knew that Y/N would find a way to get her ass kicked out again!” Charles laughed.

“Disappointed but not surprised…” Lando added shaking his head.

“I still don’t know how she managed to punch a hole into the fucking wall!” Max questioned with a slight surprise in his voice.

"It was an "inchident." Y/N replied. Gaining a burst of laughter from Lando, a death glare from Charles and a grin from Max.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

****************************************************

Writers note: I didn't want to let you wait for too long + I thought it would be fun to show short parts of Y/Ns life with the boys. What you do you think about it? Would you like it or no?

#f1 #f1 x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lando norris #max verstappen scenarios #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc scenarios #charles leclerc scenario #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris scenarios #lando norris scenario #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines

[lovefoolholland]

santa doesn’t know you like i do

summary: in which matty tells you you are everything he wants.

warnings: angst, but honestly not much.

a/n: felt inspired by sabrina’s fruitcake. hopefully a first of many christmas’ short one shots.

English is not my first language !

The moment Matty had started growing facial hair, everyone knew. They just knew, it was obvious, that you finally had him entranced and with no sign of turning back.

“You would look really good with a beard” and just a man in love would follow through and through to show you how much he listens to you.

But how come— when he looks at you from afar all lovey-dovey, takes you by the waist when talking to other people, and tells everyone he wrote songs about you mid-concert— the two of you hadn’t made it official?

And here you stand, in the middle of a Christmas Eve party at Charli’s and George’s, taking a sip of eggnog while Matty is lively talking to his bandmates, and you’re just there. Alone.

Maybe it’s your boring white Rory Gilmore sweater. Maybe it’s your blurred lipstick from earlier, after you kissed Matty’s tears away from his cheeks right after he told you about Pitchfork naming him Villain of the Year. Or maybe it’s the eggnog that’s making you a little dizzy.

You put the glass down and take a glass of water from the kitchen. That is when you feel a pair of familiar hands around your waist, making you put the glass on the counter and whip your head to the side with a smile.

“Hey gorgeous” Matty says with his usual raspy, (goddamn) sexy voice tone.

“Hi,” you say in response “what’s up?”

“Just wanted to see how my girl was doing,” he tells you, kissing your cheek and making your face grow hot “let’s go talk to the guys, okay?”

“Okay” you answer softly.

He guides you back to his circle and this time around things go more swiftly than before. You have always gotten along with Matty’s friends, but it was just that situationship factor that didn’t make you feel good around them. Like, why was Matty keeping you there if you weren’t, at least officially, his girlfriend? He’d never asked you the question, he’d never hinted at it at least, he just introduced you to new people as ‘Y/N, my friend.’

“Can I go home with you after the party?”

Matty scrunched up his nose at your question.

“Of course. Why are you asking? You always stay at mine, right?”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded.

“Yeah… Just needed to get sure.”

Matty immediately noted the way you weren’t comfortable at all, you saw it in the way his eyes shifted from confused to harshness.

“Come on, let’s just go now.”

“What? No, you’re having a great time now.”

“But clearly you’re not,” Matty says a little louder than expected, and you lift your head from his to look around with a small frown “why do you care if someone hears us?”

“I don’t– Just, come on, let’s go talk somewhere more private.”

Taking his hand on yours, you drag him to one of the empty bedrooms, closing the door behind you with a sigh.

“I’d be making a joke about you wanting to get me alone and shit, but honestly you’re scaring me a bit” Matty commented, furrowing his brow as he took your other hand in his.

“I’m okay just…” you sighed “Matty, what are we?”

There it was, the question that would probably scare him away. For good or for bad, it had to be asked.

“What do you mean?” Matty asked, even more confused.

“I mean… Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Friends that sometimes hook up?”

Matty put his lips in a thin line before answering.

“Y/N, we started this because you wanted just to fuck.”

That makes your heart drop, and you have to fight the urge to sigh in defeat.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s been almost a year, and… I mean… I like being with you.” you explain to him, biting your lip slightly before continuing talking “We go on dates and we have clothes at each other’s apartments. We’re close. We’re not just a couple of people that want to fuck anymore!”

Matty was startled by the way your voice had risen and your cheeks were starting to get red from frustration. And so were you, but you didn’t care, this needed to be finally solved.

“Babe, breathe.”

“Breathe? How do you want me to breathe?!” you asked him, slipping your hands off his to put them in your head “I think I have the right to say that out of the people in that room, I know you better than anyone. We’ve been through each other’s good and bad Matty, why… Can’t I be the one to give you everything you want?”

Matty immediately steps up to you and takes your hands off your head, placing them on his chest so you can feel just how warm he is. His eyes pierce into yours and then you feel it. His heartbeat, going a hundred times a minute. It makes you flustered that just like that, he can calm you down, but once more, it perfectly shows how good he knows you.

One or two curls fall onto his forehead as he looks straight into you and starts talking. You curse in your head that even in this time and place he looks freaking gorgeous.

“Y/N, I didn’t make anything official because you never told me you wanted to make it official,” you open your mouth to argue but he doesn’t let you speak “no, don’t argue against that. Communication is the key if we want something formal between the two of us, and God knows I’ve been craving to be with you and brag about you ever since you asked me to be your fuckfriend, but I didn’t do it because I thought you didn’t want to.”

You gulp and frown. It is true, the two of you didn’t communicate clearly with one another.

“Yeah, you are… Right,” you say with a sigh, squeezing his hands in yours for reassurance. He does the same in response and that makes you blush in a soft manner “why didn’t you say anything though?”

Matty raises an eyebrow.

“Did you just see yourself? You were almost breaking this off.”

“What?! No I wasn’t!”

“Yes you were,” Matty said, a small smile on his lips “you’re neurotic sometimes babe.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Make me.”

In a swift and quick move, you land a kiss on his lips, and when you pull back with a smirk, he puts a hand on your neck and pulls you in to devour your lips fervently, but quickly, leaving you dizzy as he pulls back.

“There,” he says, smiling widely now as he watches your eyes blurry with love and happiness “happy?”

“Very much.”

Matty smiles and grabs you in a hug, squeezing your body against his as you huff out a ‘I hate you’ and he murmurs a ‘And I love you’. After pulling back you hook your arms on his neck and he puts his hands on your waist.

“Oh and Y/N?” he asks in a whisper.

“What?”

Matty leans in, kisses your cheek and says to your ear:

“You are the one that can give me everything I want.”

#matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy x reader #ross macdonald #matty healy fluff #matty healy oneshot #matty healy imagine #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy one shot #matty healy drabble #matty healy fic #the 1975 angst #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fic #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 fanfic #matty the 1975

[luvtsumu]

atsumu's "bad" habit

atsumu x chubby reader!!!!, friends to lovers, more of a blurb of thoughts tbh LOL, gentle biting???, fluff, middle school atsumu, high school atsumu, timeskip atsumu LOL

best friends to lovers atsumu who never outgrew or got rid of his habit of biting you. at first it was a cuteness aggression, something he picked up from his mom who used to always lightly bite him and his brother's arms; now it was just a bad habit that is 9 times out of 10 done unconsciously

it started in middle school when you were voluntold to be his partner for a class project that would have to be worked on during summer vacation. the heat is brutal and so you had shown up to their house in shorts and a tank top that showed your arms off—all the other times you just showed up in a baggy shirt that allowed the breeze to hug you before leaving through the rest of the shirt.

there was no wind that one day--at all--so this was the first time atsumu had caught a glimpse of your shoulders.

he fought the urge to bite you the entire time you two were working on whatever the hell it was—it's not like he actually focused. it was only when dinner time came around and you had to go that something just came over him. at the door, as he and osamu were saying goodbye to you, atsumu just leans over and gives you a soft bite on the arm with his lips covering his teeth.

you literally froze and just gawked at him, unsure why the hell this dude was doing what YOUR mom would do

"atsumu!" osamu hissed, smacking his brother which pulled his twin right back into reality. atsumu stands straight with his face flushed red and frantically rubs your arm.

"m'sorry! i couldn't help it! y-yer so--" he swallows thickly, panicking to find the right words. his rubbing only gets quicker which generates a tickling heat on your skin. "yer just-- i was just-- when i-- i mean--"

it's only when you burst into laughter and grab onto his wrist that atsumu's shoulders relax. in fact, his whole body could have just dropped to the ground.

"it's okay," you reassured him with a smile, dropping your hold to give his hand a quick, gentle squeeze. "my mama does that, too. says it's because i've got chubby arms 'n it reminds 'er of marshmallows."

atsumu gasps and nods. "y-yeah!! and-- and yer just so sweet anyway!"

the biting continued and sometimes he'd even ask to which you always responded yes. it's not at all hurtful and it's pretty cute, especially when atsumy accompanies with a little chomping noise.

his teeth never actually grazed your skin, always covered by his lips to make sure he never actually hurt you. sometimes, if he couldn't bite you, he'd just opt to give you a gentle pinch. his nose would always scrunch when he did this and you'd always laugh.

eventually, it went unnoticed. eventually, because perhaps you were enabling him too much, the biting actually reached to other parts of your body like your shoulders, your forearms, sometimes even your ankles. but it was never something you two noticed. eventually, it was something others always noticed.

like that one time in 3rd year high school that atsumu bit (once again with his lips covering his teeth) your cheek to say goodbye.

"why don't you just give her cheek a kiss?" suna chuckles as he, the miya twins, and ginjima made their way from the cafeteria to the gym for a quick meeting, "it's more normal that way, you know?"

atsumu gives him a confused look. "huh? what do you mean?" the blond tilts his head. "why would i kiss her cheek?"

osamu rolls his eyes. he's tired of his brother's oblivion.

"why would you bite??? her cheek???" ginjima shoots back.

there's a silence and everyone just stares at atsumu. he, for the life of him, couldn't even recall that he actually did that. he bit your cheek??? really???? he's quick to yank his phone out of his pocket to text you, typing, "did i??? bite your cheek?????"

you respond with, "ya. i don't mind LOL it didn't hurt."

"bro i didn't even recognize that i did that."

"really? LOL i always thought you knew. you've been doing it more often actually. i really don't mind though. it's cute."

"yeah anything i do is cute. but damn. maybe i am an airhead..."

"yeah and conceited too :-|"

it eventually stops though when you two separate after high school. you went to osaka for university and atsumu went straight into achieving his dreams of professional volleyball.

of course you two didn't lose touch!! there were plenty of video calls, text messages, voice messages, video messages, personal poscast episodes, you name it!!! there just wasn't as much physical closeness as there used to. there was something missing and at first atsumu couldn't figure out what.

he tells you he misses you, says that things aren't the same when you aren't there to yell at him in person or throw things at him. he says it's even more lonely that osamu isn't with him 24/7. he says he's not used to having nobody whine about the heat, or whine about wanting a popsicle, or almost cry about an onigiri craving they've had for weeks.

and then, he remembers why it's YOU he misses. he jokes that he misses biting you and nothing satisfies him (even if he downs an entire bag of marshmallows ((which is???? wtf??? 😭😭😭))))))

you jokingly tell him there's so many new people he can meet and start biting, especially when he finds "the one"

this is you testing the waters a bit, wondering if atsumu might talk about any kind of feelings he juuuust miiight have. it's always been confusing for you, not sure where you fit when it comes to his categories of relationships. sure you were the only one he was ever that physically affectionate with... but what if it's because you two grew up together and he maybe sees you as some sort of sibling?

you're reassured when atsumu lets out the biggest sigh, telling you that "nah. no one's like ya. i only wanna bite ya. s'never gonna be the same and i don't even wanna try it."

you laugh and atsumu smiles. there's a dreamy look in his eyes that goes unnoticed by you during this video call.

but you see it so clearly when you surprise atsumu during one of his games.

"y-y/n?!" atsumu screams at the top of his lungs, "that you?!???!?! you standing there with my jersey number on??!?!"

you laugh and wave your arms, not even given a chance to respond before you're body checked almost to the ground. you laugh harder as atsumu cages you in his embrace, giving you the tighest hug you've ever had thus far. he squeezes you, lets his hands grab at your skin and breathes you in.

"i fucking missed you," he'd breathe into your neck, almost tearing up at the way his body knows he's safe with you, "even though you literally sat in a video call with me during my before game poop."

you laugh and smack his arm. "why would you say that out loud?!" you exclaim, your head thrown back which atsumu places his hand behind. he lets you stand, admiring you expression before joining you. he keeps you close though, his other hand glued to your hips as he moved the one behind your head to your cheeks.

"i missed these!" he beams, giving your cheek a pinch before leaning in to bite them gently. he pulls away, giggles to himself before nipping down your jaw, to your neck, to your shoulders, and eventually to your arm. your breath hitches the entire time and you're tense.

you're adults now. it's just a little different than before.

but it's all the same to atsumu. especially when he pulls away only to give you a quick peck on the lips.

"since suna was tellin' me that biting ya wasn't enough."

your expression twists, but the both of you share a laugh.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq x y/n #haikyuu one shot #hq one shot #haikyuu imagine #hq imagine #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #atsumu #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu headcanons #atsumu headcanons #msby #msby x reader #msby x y/n #msby reader insert #msby fluff #haikyuu reader insert

[arachine]

. . . tender wounds & soft kisses (won't you stay?) ; i. midoriya

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis :: trouble comes knocking on your doorstep seeking salvation. the question is, do you answer it?

── ˚₊✩‧₊ general tags :: pro!hero au, angst, fluff

── ˚₊✩‧₊ content warnings :: fem!reader, mentions of blood + death but nothing explicit, reader patches his wounds, intense feelings, making out, 3k words

── ˚₊✩‧₊ notes :: part one of two (?) of a future mini series :3 next part will include filth pinky promise !

it doesn’t matter how many times he shows up at your door like this—battered and bruised, that is. you’ll never get used to it. you want to turn him away, to tell him he’d have better luck going to a hospital—but—it’s half past midnight, and it’s cold, and it’s raining, and…he doesn’t know where else to go. 

he knows you’re tired. can see it in the way you lean your head against the door frame, and the way you blink up at him with indifference, as if your eyes are telling him “come in now or i’ll leave you out in the cold”.  

with an appreciative smile, he enters through the door and brushes past you. takes his heavy, muddy boots off, one by one, and leaves them to sit in the foyer where they contrast starkly against your pristine-perfect ones. 

it’s a sight that’s starting to become all too familiar to you. sometimes it looks like there’s another person living here, like there’s someone to share the space with, but you know his presence is only ephemeral. you’d wish it weren’t, though. especially since he already knew the floor plan of your apartment like the back of his hand. 

even in the pitch-black dark, his steps are confident. calculated. familiar. he dredges down the corridor with impressive precision, and yields absolutely no qualms of bumping into your many awkwardly placed pieces of furniture. doesn’t even trip over the new coffee table you recently purchased. because instead of him doing the bumping and tripping, you do.

izuku comes to a sudden standstill in the middle of the living room, and you walk right into his back, knocking him forward a bit from the force.

“what’s wrong?” you question, trying not to let yourself sound too concerned, but it comes out more tender than anything. he breathes out a quick nothing, and continues the trek to your bathroom, wincing through gritted teeth while clutching his side. 

if he’s in pain, he won’t say it. which is another reason why you’ve come to resent his spontaneous fix-me-up visits. impatiently, you side step by him and rush to the bathroom. turn on the light and stand at the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest, like you were practically urging him to quicken his pace so he could be out of here faster.

but he takes his time. because despite the sharp-ache in his ribs, and the sting above his brow, he gets to see you. izuku midoriya gets to be touched by you. to be cleaned by you. patched up by you. sinewy muscles and bruised flesh, all taken care of by—you. 

so, yeah. he takes his sweet time getting to the bathroom—even if he’s five steps from getting there. he’ll make it ten. anything to make this last longer. 

“come on, i’m tired,” you say, turning on your heels to open the cabinet. “i’d like to get back into my comfy bed as soon as possible.” 

when you take a look inside the cabinet, you frown at the shortage of supplies you’re met with. which, honestly, shouldn’t even really surprise you—considering he was the one responsible for its barren state. 

regardless, you pluck what you can of what’s left, then set them down on the counter in the order of which you’ll use them: clean rag, soap, ointment, steri-strips, and gauze (in case there’s a bigger wound somewhere under his tattered clothes). 

from your peripheral, you can see his silhouette appear from out of the darkness, and you watch intently through the mirror as his now fully-illuminated body trudges behind you. god, he looks worse than he did standing under the light of your front porch. 

well, that’s what you think. prior, a good portion of his face had been enshrouded by night, so you couldn’t really make out anything worth noting—even if you wanted to, at least.

but now you bear witness to the hues of red that dance across his face; both from the inflamed capillaries underneath his skin, and the blood ribboning down the gash above his brow. 

“you know the drill.” your gaze is pointed, and you eye him through the mirror while dousing the rag under the warm running water. 

he comes to a halt in front of the toilet, grimacing once, then clutches his side protectively before bending down to sit. you note that too. 

“so…” a beat. “you gonna need help taking that off? or—“

“i’ve got it,” the green haired boy quips, moving to retract his arm from his side. 

you throw your hands up in defeat, and reposition yourself to lean against the sink’s ledge. your eyes trace every movement, and you watch amusedly as he pathetically struggles to remove his gloves, but eventually achieves. 

next, he attempts to tackle his zipper. a grimace. then, he attempts it again, only to withdraw in pain. 

“let me do it,” impatience on the tip of your tongue. you lunge forward to unzip the damn thing yourself because you can’t bear to watch any longer, small hand swatting his much larger one away. 

dropping to your knees, you sit between his legs and zip it down until the entirety of his torso is revealed. a solemn frown settles on your lips, and it takes everything in you to not shed a tear. 

gathering your wits, you continue undressing him, gently pulling each arm from its consecutive sleeve, before moving to unclasp the mask tugged down his neck.

“i hate when you do that,” your voice speaks up, replacing the unpleasant silence. there’s evident irritation laced in it, and he can’t help but to wince from the way it pulls his heart strings. 

“when i do what?” you take a brief moment before answering him. busy yourself with the loose thread hanging on the side of his leg pant, tug on it until you snap it off. “when you pretend you’re not in pain.” 

izuku sighs through his nose, something long and heavy. “i’m sorry,” he attempts at an apology, though he knows he’d have better luck convincing someone else who wasn’t accustomed to seeing him like this. 

“no you’re not, otherwise you’d stop waking me up in the middle of the night to tend to your wounds.” there it is. that venomous tongue of yours, the one that doesn’t hold back in telling him what he needs to hear. he can’t even counter it—so he takes it. leans back into the cool porcelain of the tank, and watches as you walk away to the sink, only to return with a stool and rag in tow. 

for a minute, you mull over which area of skin to tackle first, until you decide on prioritizing his torso. you take the damp rag and run it along the perimeter of his wound where there’s a culmination of dried blood and fresh red. his abs flex in response to the sensation, a sharp intake of breath.

“sorry,” you mutter without looking at him, eyes focused and hands working diligently between swipes. 

“nope, ‘m fine.”

“liar.”

“yeah,” he breathes. 

“how’d you get this one, huh? oh, wait, let me guess. off doing god knows what, at god knows where, chasing after some guy you’re not even authorized to be chasing.” 

you rise up from your seat to dispose of the rag, grabbing the remaining items on the counter. “did i get any of that right?”

izuku laughs, a small admittance. “i don’t think i’m at liberty to say.” 

scoffing, you plop back down in front of him, and carefully, begin cleaning the inside of the wound with a damp piece of gauze. every now and then, you check his face to gauge for any pain, but his relaxed expression is unfaltering. because he’s looking down at you with so much warmth it’s scalding.

his gaze feels like a thousand little pricks, makes you shiver from the intensity, and you silently pray he doesn’t catch it. though, it’s really wishful thinking on your part. he noticed most things, was just in his nature.

“what are you looking at?” all bite. his eyes shift from your face to the tiled floor. suddenly, the grout was starting too look interesting, in fact, when’s the last time you touched it u—

“n-nothing,” he stutters, warmth spreading across his face to the tips of his ears. 

“so weird…” your eyes flit up once, before refocusing on covering the wound in clean, dry gauze. 

in juxtaposition to your jagged edged words, you’re so gentle. delicate in everything you do, but especially so, when you’re handling him. it’s something that he’s come to find massively endearing, and he hates that the only time he’s a recipient of your attentiveness, is when he shows up at your door all bloodied and bruised. 

“shit, uh, can you hold this in place for a second? gonna get some tape.” 

izuku nods in compliance. follows with trained eyes as your frame disappears into the dark. then, the sound of a flicker follows suit shortly after, and the light—from what he presumes to be your room—illuminates the rest of the hallway. 

in the distance, he can hear the soft thud of feet padding back and forth between rooms, and can just about isolate the cacophonous sound of drawers opening and closing, along with muttered obscenities. 

the impending sound of footsteps announces your return, and you take your seat between his legs, this time with a roll of tape in tow. 

“and,” you drawl, “done. now let me look at that nasty gash on your face.” 

he scoots closer to the edge to give you a better look, and the pair of your knees knock together. neither of you acknowledge it, nor do you make an effort to move. the proximity has him reeling, but you seemingly remain indifferent. 

reaching up, you take hold of his chin and maneuver him intermittently as you prod and poke at the open flesh. suddenly, a feeling of sadness washes over you upon the realization that one day he might not even make it to your doorstep. that maybe this will be the last time you hold his beautiful face in your hands. that this will be the last time those kind, green eyes look up at you. the reality of the situation is that every day may very well be his last. 

when you stop your ministrations, he knows something’s up. “what is it? what’s wrong?” the intonation in his voice rising, displaying the sincerity of his concern. a calloused hand finds solace on the side of your cheek, and you careen into its warmth. 

“i don’t…i don’t know how many times i can keep seeing you like this,” you admit, voice straining at the effort it takes to quell your tears. 

izuku brings a second hand up to your face, cradles it in his calloused palms. swipes his thumbs soothingly over the apples of your cheeks and shushes you before a sob can erupt from your throat. 

“nonono, don’t get yourself all upset over me.”

“how can i not ‘zu?!”

“‘cause ‘m not worth it,” he spits, and it almost scares you how much he believes in the veracity of his statement. 

“‘not worth it’…” you repeat, “if you weren’t worth it, i wouldn’t let you keep coming back into my house. i wouldn’t patch you up…wouldn’t let you keep making me feel like this.”

“i’m sor—“

“don’t you fucking dare say sorry,” you get up abruptly, releasing yourself from his grasp. “god, you make me—you make me fucking crazy! can’t you see?” your hands go to reach the ledge of the sink, and you rock back and forth on anxious heels. 

forgetting the ache in his side, the pro-hero rises to his feet. he lets his weakened legs drag him to where you stand. your head is down, and your arms are out-stretched to support your weight. he can’t see your face, but he hears the beginnings of a sob. 

thoughts race through his mind a mile a minute. what should i do? he thinks. how can he console you? should he touch you? hold you? but what if you don’t want to be touched? he racks his brain for an answer, to no avail.  

for a while, he just stands there—because in the short distance he traveled, he didn’t really think of a plan. just acted on impulse. but then he sees a big cartoonish teardrop land on the counter and he loses it. 

unthinking, the greenette takes you into his hold. slots himself behind you like a puzzle piece and wraps you up, one arm across your chest, and the other over your middle. the sudden contact surprises you, but you make no contests. instead, you find yourself relaxing into his grip, and he takes that as a silent confirmation to squeeze you further into his embrace. 

“don’t cry,” izuku whispers into the interstice of your neck, “can’t bear it. don’t like it.” you raise your head to lay against his chest, and wrap your fingers around his forearm. his body radiates a warmth that you find wildly comforting. it’s intoxicating, almost. and now that you’ve had a taste of it, you’re not quite sure you’d be able to let go. 

but while the feeling is nice, it’s also equal parts scary and debilitating. because you weren’t a couple. you weren’t temporary lovers. you weren’t…anything, and yet—you fit like one. and that was scary. terrifying. 

it scared you how much space this person took up in your life; how little he gave in return, and how much of your heart belonged to him. and the worst part of it all? how scared he was to trust you with a scintilla of his. of all the years you’ve known izuku midoriya, this is the coldest you’ve known him to be. 

“alright, i’m better now. you can let go,” you speak, though the words that escape your lips directly conflict with what you really feel. 

don’t let go. don’t let go. hold me a little longer, please. 

reluctantly, the bigger man releases you from his firm grasp. he holds your gaze through the mirror, waits for you to start the conversation—which your eyes seem to have already started, because he swears that right now, they’re singing a song of sorrow.

“be honest with me, please. don’t you think i deserve that much?”

suddenly, the pain in his ribs throbs. his forehead falls to rest on your shoulder. he’s stalling. biding his time so that he can come up with an answer. 

“of course you do, you deserve the truth and so much more. but…”

“but,” you repeat plainly, because of course there’s a but. 

“—but there’s things that i just can’t tell you. and i know it sucks, and i know it sounds like a bunch of bullshit, but if something were to ever happen to you because of the information you knew, i literally wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” the words flow from his lips hurriedly, like if he doesn’t get it all out now, they’ll detonate inside of him. 

“you gotta just give me this, please, baby.” 

baby. 

babybabybaby. he called you…baby. your eyes widen like saucers at the pet name, and then it dawns on him that he let it slip through a fit of passion. 

“baby? uh, pft, i meant…” he tries to recant the part in his spiel that he let slip out, nervously scratching the back of his freckled neck. 

“i hate you.” a lie. but it sounds right to say, even though there’s no real weight behind it. still, how dare he? how dare he make you go years thinking your feelings were unrequited? how dare he fucking steal your heart again with one little word, two syllables, and four letters? 

izuku smirks. if you had uttered these words to him when he was still young and unsure of himself, he’d believe you. but he doesn’t—because he knows you. knows that your venomous tongue lacks potency. and he knows that your heart is reserved for him, always has been—even if his negligence almost cost him you. 

“you don’t,” he says matter-of-factly, viridian irises soft, staring back at you. 

“i do.” unceremoniously, two large hands grab your waist. they turn you around with uncharacteristic speed, pin you against the sink and leave you with no exit. a gasp bubbles in your throat. 

“okay, then say it to my face, “ izuku leans forward, strong arms encasing you between his chest and the sink he holds. his neck tilts downward so that he’s looking into your eyes, and god, he’s so big. so imposing, takes up too much space. too much. 

“tell me you hate me, and i’ll stop doing…this. i’ll get out of your hair for good.”

any and all semblance of composure you had up until that point, dissipates into thin air right then and there. your eyes squint into slits because he fucking proved you right. you were too much of a coward to say it, but on the off-chance that you did, he’d see right through you. one thing you hate more than being proven wrong, is feeling like you have no control over things.

things like izuku. he made your head all foggy with just a glance, and your stomach knotted up with an utter of your name. but this? god, you couldn’t handle this. the proximity, the intimacy of your rather compromising position, the intensity of his gaze, or the way his breath kissed the curve of your jaw. he was everywhere, all the time. omnipotent. 

“you’re right,” you admit with a huff, acquiescing to his boyish-grin. your admission has him lurching forward, inching closer, and closer to the pair of roseate lips pouting up at him so prettily (that they might as well be an open invitation for him to kiss you).

“i’m right.” 

you find yourself initiating a game of cat and mouse. every time he moves in, you move out. it’s so silly. makes you feel like a love-sick school girl waiting by the lockers to give her crush a handwritten note. but you’re relishing in it; and so is he, admittedly more so than you. 

with every passing second, you become less and less aware of your surroundings. all you know is that your lips are moving in tandem, hovering over the other, open-mouthed and panting. you want him. you want to taste him, to bite him, to give him another wound that will turn into a pretty pearl-grey scar amongst the rest. 

your desire for him is carnal, but you play this little game like time is infinite. and you suppose, time can be anything you want it to be when you’re encased between his body.

just as he’s about to close the gap, you whisper a plea into his ear. “promise me,” your voice is breathy, wanting, but still firm. his lips dip down to your neck, and he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss into the divot of your clavicle. trails upwards as he pops up to answer you.

“i’ll promise you a hundred things, i’ll - i’ll promise you whatever you want.” 

“promise me you’ll start being careful,” you say breathless, “that i won’t see your name as a headline on the news.” 

“i promise,” he delves back into your neck, repeating it like a mantra along the vein of your jugular until he kisses his way up to your lips. there’s a brief pause initiated by you when your hand pushes back his chest.

a look of confusion overtakes his features, and you’re looking at him with nervous eyes. are we really about to do this? they say. are we really about to cross that threshold? like you haven’t already done that and more within the span of ten minutes. but you need the reassurance, to be told that everything after this will be okay.

yes, his say. it’s fine. you can trust me.

you felt again the rush of helplessness, the push and pull of the current; until, finally, you let it sink you. he kisses you gently, delicately, then with a swift gradation of intensity that has you whimpering into his mouth. 

“hate you,” a kiss, “for making me,” another, “wait so - mmf - long,” you try to speak between clashes of teeth and tongue, smoothing your arms up his exposed chest before encircling them around his neck.

“i know, baby, i’m terrible,” he breaks away to suckle your neck, “i’m the worst.”

“the worst,” you agree. suddenly, you start to understand why people say kissing is like melting, because every part of your body he touches, has you dissolving rapidly into sea-foam. you’re so hot and bothered, you don’t even know what to do with your hands. 

they were around his neck at some point, but now they’re roaming freely. over his chest, his biceps, down his back, in his hair—on his face. maybe you’ve traveled too far, because the sound it elicits from him is teetering the border between pain and pleasure.

“sorry, did i do that?” you gesture to his brow, which he shields protectively. 

“just a scratch, i can take it,” he reassures, attempting to resume his assault on your collar bone. you grab hold of his chin, redirecting him to look at you.

“just a scratch, huh? well, you’re lucky you got away with just a ‘scratch’.”

© arachine 2023

#:: — LEXI WRITES ! #exposure tags >>> #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya smut #deku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader #mha x reader smut

[starzioo]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓. 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘.

Hiii! This is a DracoxFem!Reader one-shot! In this story you are a ballerina. I saw this post of the Slytherin boys x a ballerina and I could just imagine Draco being absolutely in love with her. So here it is I hope you like!

WARNINGS: NONE <3

You sit on the stage of the Royal Opera House in London. Tightly wrapping the dusty pink ribbons around your ankles. Today was your rehearsal day for the production of The Nutcracker. You had been casted as the Sugar Plum Fairy. Most people would take this role as being easy and simple. But oh no, they would be terribly wrong. The movements you made had to be fluid and effortless, while also being regal. You sigh before standing back up and fixing your rehearsal tutu. You head over to your starting mark and give the signal to the director to start the music.

=

DRACO POV

I get out of the muggle-car behind my father. 'Muggles really think that this is the peak of transportation?' I think to myself as I look back at the black car behind me. "Good morning Mr. Malfoy. It's a pleasure to have you here again! Mr. Evan's is in a meeting right now and told me to tell you that he'll meet with you as soon as possible." A woman who I assume is Mr. Evan's assistant spoke to my father. "M'Alright." My father says obviously annoyed with the muggles tardiness. "Right this way then." The woman says with her smile not faltering. She walks a couple paces ahead of my father while I linger behind him. We step inside of the building. The interior looks to be made for royals. The architecture being elegant. She leads us down a couple hallways before stopping at a big door. "You may sit and wait here. Mr. Evan's will be here shortly. If you would like any refreshments or if you have any questions just head down the hallway and my desk is right there." My father only nods in response. She flashes her smile once more before heading down the hallway. Me and my father sit down on the waiting chairs. "Why are we here? Better question why am I here?" I turn and ask my father who's reading a muggle newspaper. He doesn't even look at me, "Because Draco. We are here on important business. It's about time you start learning what lies ahead for you." His tone still cold as ever. I can't even speak back, I know i'll be silenced. All I can do is huff. I stand up and just walk the opposite direction of him. I don't hate my father but sometimes I just can't stand how he seems to have my entire future in the palm of his hand.

Walking down the large hallway I can start to hear the elegant music that I can only recognize as music from The Nutcracker. When I was little my mother used to take me to a muggle theater around Christmas time. Although my father urged that we don't celebrate muggle holidays. She would always sneak us out and take me to see the Nutcracker. Not only did she love ballet but I loved to see the story play out through the graceful dancing. Of course as I grew older the tradition stopped but I never forgot.

I continue down the hallway and I can hear the music growing louder. I turn one more corner to see a double door way with a sign above the entrance that says 'MAIN THEATER' in gold lettering. The doors were slightly cracked open. I slightly peek into the theater to see a girl dancing on the stage doing the sugar plum fairies variation. I quietly slip into the room and sit down in the farthest back row to watch.

Y/N POV:

I had already rehearsed my routine twice but my director kept critiquing every little thing I did. I mean of course that's his job but I swear he was acting as if everything I did was wrong. I was in the in the middle of my third pirouette when my coach suddenly stood up and started walking to the back of the theater. I continued my pirouettes until I heard my coach speak. "I'm sorry sir but you aren't allowed in here while rehearsals are going on. I must ask you to leave." He said as he ushered someone who was sitting in the back of the theater out of the room. The man stood and I caught a glimpse of him. He was tall and had icy blonde hair. I paused my variation and stood to watch. The blonde man then spoke, "I'm sorry for interrupting sir. I had no clue." He said before then exiting the theater. My manager turned back around after closing the doors to the theater. "Alright Y/n from the top!" He said as he gave the tech people the signal to restart the music. I didn't complain. I rushed back to my starting mark and started my routine from the beginning.

DRACO POV:

As I sat in the back row I admired the ballerina on stage. Her movements were so elegant, mesmerizing even. With every turn and step she took her tutu bounced. Her arms stretched out with grace. I'm instantly snapped out of my daze when an official looking man comes up to me. "I'm sorry sir but you aren't allowed in here while rehearsals are going on. I must ask you to leave." He said as he turned to open the door for me. "I'm sorry for interrupting sir. I had no idea." I said as I stood from my seat. I walked to the door and took once last glance at the ballerina.

Y/N POV:

After the man had left the theater I ran through my routine nearly a half a dozen more times. Each time my coach giving me more pointers and critiques. As the music stopped and I finished my last variation my coach stood from his seat, "Y/n you need to keep your back straight and your knees pointed on that last part!" My coach shouted clearly tired of me not being able to perfect my solo. I just huffed and wiped my forehead with the back of my wrist. "Can I go get some water?" I said with my hands on my hips. My director sighed, "Yeah, be back in five." He said as he wrote something down on his clipboard. I hurriedly sped walked down the stairs that were on the far end of the stage and headed towards the theater entrance. I took a turn then walked down the long hallway. I stop at the end of the hallway when I see that man who got kicked out of the theater and another man who has long icy blonde hair, they're both sitting down on the waiting chairs outside Mr. Evan's office. I shake my head of any curiosity about the two and hurriedly walk past them to go to Adeline's desk. I notice the short haired boy look up at me as I walked but I continued. "Hey Adeline, could you please get me a water?" I asked to the woman. "Yeah just give me a second." She said with her usual smile, as she stood and went to another room. A couple seconds later she reappeared and had a water bottle in hand. The water bottle had a custom logo on it that said The Royal Opera House in gold letters on a dark red paper. "Thank you Ade, I'll most likely be back soon." I said as I turned around while simultaneously taking a drink of my water. As I turned I practically bump straight into a brick wall.

But it wasn't a wall it was that same blonde boy. And I had now just spilt water all over him. "Oh, i'm sorry! That was my bad!" I said frantically as I tried to wipe the water off of his black button down. "No, no, no, don't worry about it." He said laughing lightly as he grabbed hand to calm me, after a few seconds you let go. "I was just coming to compliment you. I saw you back in the theater and your dancing was truly beautiful." He said as his ice blue eyes practically pierced yours. "Oh...thank you." —I laughed softly—"But my director would say other wise." I said as I began to walk past him, I turned back around to look at him once more to find him with his eyebrows furrowed. "Well it's basically his job to tell me what I'm doing wrong, but it feels impossible to get my routine perfect." I sighed. "Well...regardless of what that oaf thinks I think you dance nothing short of perfection." He said slightly playfully. I let out a small laugh. "Well, I've got to get back to rehearsing. It was nice meeting you...?" I questioned having never learned his name. "Draco." "Draco?" "Draco." He confirmed. "Well it was nice meeting you Draco." I said nodding my head before turning to go back to the theater. "Wait what's your name?" He calls out to me as I was walking away. I turned around once more then gestured to a poster on the wall, then finally walked away.

As I gestured to the poster Draco immediately examined it. It was a picture of you in your sugar plum fairy costume and a title below it. It said, 'Y/n L/n as The Sugar Plum Fairy' Draco let out an airy laugh as he admired the poster when Lucius appeared behind him. "Draco I would like to not have to come look for you as if you were a lost puppy. Mr.Evan's is ready to see us now." He said coldly then turned Draco following behind.

=

You had went back to the theater thoughts of Draco lingering in the back of your head. Draco had went to sit in on the meeting between Lucius and Mr. Evan's. To Lucius that meeting was very important to the future of his shares in the theater, but to Draco it was merely an hour wasted listening to rubbish. You had finally wrapped up your rehearsals for the day and it was time for you to go get food and go home.

DRACO POV:

"Draco you can sit outside while me and Mr. Evan's wrap this up. Don't wander." Lucius spat. I didn't respond he simply just got up and left the room. I sat outside on the chairs until I heard a voice. "Yeah, I'll see you on Thursday?" She said as she walked out of the theater. There she was, Y/n. All of my attention was on her. She was no longer wearing the tutu and leotard. She was now wearing a baby pink off the shoulder knit sweater with grey flared leggings. She has a white knit scarf around her neck and she carried grey bag, what I assume was her ballet stuff. Her hair was in a low bun making her headphones she had in visible.

     When she turned to walk out she paused when she saw me. "Hey, you're still here?" She said softly as she walked up to me while taking out her headphone. "Yeah, i'm just waiting for my father and Mr. Evan's to get out of their meeting." "Well, I could wait with you?" She said as she rocked back and forth on her feet. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind." She sat down next to me setting her bag on her side. "So why are you here? To see Mr.Evans I mean." She said as she looked up at me. "Well I wouldn't say that i'm here to see him. My father is.  Something that has to do with his shares. I honestly don't know. The only thing i've gotten out of coming here was seeing you dance." I laughed a little, and so did she. "I didn't know I was that good." She smiled. "Whatever your director was yelling at you, he truly is wrong. I thought you danced perfect." I said avoiding eye contact with her. I could see her out of the corner of my eye just staring up at me. "Why thank you good sir. I'm glad you liked it." She giggled. "Have you ever seen The Nutcracker?" "Yeah, quite a few times actually." "Oh. Would you like to see it again maybe?" She asked this time not peering up at me, but now fiddling with the loose ends of her scarf. "When?" She stop and looked back up at me. "Uhmm,—she hummed— Opening night would be December 10th, I could get you tickets if you would like?" "Yeah, yeah, although I don't know when I'll see you again?" I asked. She laughing softly, "I guess whenever you want to see me again." She smiled.

DECEMBER TENTH

DRACO POV

Today was the day, the day I get to see her again. I don't know why I'm so...entranced? By her. Something about her just makes me fascinated. Ever since last week she's all I could think about. Of course in order to be able to go see the show I told my parents some bullshit excuse. My father would never let me go to London by myself, especially just so I could go see the ballet. Not only that a muggle girl.

I had made my way to the theatre early so I would be able to avoid all the people there for opening night. I stepped out of the taxi, it was cold the winter air crisp. I entered the building and walked up to the concierge. "One ticket for The Nutcracker, please." I said slightly rubbing my hands together trying to warm them. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid we are all sold out for the night." He said with pity. "What? No, I have to see the show tonight." "Like I said, I'm sorry. But I can sell you a ticket for-" "Oh! Mr. Malfoy I wasn't expecting you so early!" The concierge was interrupted by no other than Adeline. "You were expecting me?" I turned to her. "Well yes? I expected that Ms. L/n made you aware of your visit?" She said with her usual smile. "Well yeah, but- you know what never mind. Why were you expecting me?" "Of course, because she was very adamant that you got the best seat in the house!" She said ushering me down the hall, then to an elevator.

The classical music played lightly in the elevator, the ride up two floors wasn't awkward, it was actually quite pleasant. This was an elevator ride I had been on countless times before, it was nostalgic in a way. The elevator dinged before the large metal doors opened. We were on The Donald Gordon Grand Tier. It was technically the third floor of the theater. She led me to row A which was in the very middle and front. "Ms. L/n was very insisting that you get this specific seat sir. She said it was the best seat in the house and you deserve nothing less!" I stood there for a moment and blinked at the seats in front of me. That feeling of nostalgia had now been explained. I was sitting in the exact same seat my mother would always sit in when we would come to the theater. "Mr. Malfoy, are you okay?" Adeline broke my trance. "Thank you Adeline, for everything." I thanked her as I sat down. "No problem! Feel free to come down to my desk if you need anything!" She smiled before walking away.

I sat there for maybe 30 minutes before hundreds of people started sitting in the theater. Of course by courtesy of Adeline I was able to avoid the crowd. After about another 30 minutes the lights in the theater had dimmed. That's when I heard the oh so familiar tune to the mystical music. There was something about the story of The Nutcracker that always fascinated me. Maybe it was the playful but yet elegant dances that were done. They were so complex but yet so smooth and graceful. Or perhaps it was the fact that I was able to watch a story come to life in front of my very eyes. As I watched the ballet I found myself the same way I was many years ago. Only blinking every few minutes to be sure I didn't miss any parts of the show. My mind fully clear, only focusing on the ballet dancers below. I was entranced by the story all over again.

Now, we were in act II. After Clara and the Prince have slayed the Mouse King, the snowflakes have led them to the Kingdom of Sweets. As the enchanting music transitioned to a more sweet sounding melody it hit me. She was going to be dancing soon. Clara and the Prince arrived to the gates of Kingdom of Sweets. The Sugar Plum Fairy reigns over the Kingdom of Sweets. I sat up in my chair. Then there she was, graceful as ever tip-toing across stage. Her costume was beautiful a light pink bodice and tutu with gold accents. Her hair was elegant and she wore a gold tiara. She was covered in glitter, but what shined the most was her eyes. She was so passionate in the way she danced. Her moves were liquid smooth enchanting the audience. She placed a tiara on Clara's head then commenced a day of festivities in honor of Clara saving the Prince from the mouse king. First came the Chocolate from Spain, then the Arabian Coffee, the Chinese tea, and lastly the sweet French Marzipan.

But then the flowers came, and they preformed a great waltz. The Sugar Plum Fairy came back with her cavalier and did a mesmerizing duet. Although they were doing a duet me and the whole audience could only look at one of them. Her. She danced with a great passion. Not that he didn't. There was just something about her that made you believe that she was born to be on that stage. Born to shine. Even with the light shining down on her, she was the light. Soon after she and her cavalier finished their dance Clara is guided back home. She tosses and turns in her sleep, she wakes up to find out it was a dream? A fantasy. Nothing more.

And Suddenly I was pulled into reality. The audience erupted in roars. Not one person in that theater wasn't clapping. Roses were being thrown onto stage by people sitting on the lower floors. The people around me whistling and cheering. I quickly stood up and headed down to Adeline's desk. "Excuse me, Adeline. I had a delivery made here, did it arrive yet?" I said as I leaned on her desk. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Just wait one second while I go grab it. She disappeared into a room before coming out with the custom bouquet I had delivered. Freshly picked Frutteto's. The baby pink roses were dusted with gold glitter, they were perfect. "She's gonna love them you know?" Adeline asked snapping me out of my trance. "Yeah...yeah, I know. Do you know when she'll be out?" "I'd say maybe 30 minutes? In the mean while you're more than welcome to wait here." She said as she sat back down at her desk and started flipping through a book.

I sat there for what seemed like forever. I inspected every flower to make sure they were nothing short of perfection. Just as I was picking off a petal that was too pink to fit in with the rest I saw her. She was already on her way out of the glass doors. I quickly rushed after her, "Y/n, wait!" I yelled after her as I caught up. She turned around her nose being a light shade of pink from the brisk winter air, the soft snowflakes landing in her hair. "Draco, you came? I didn't see you come in before the show?" "I got here early, don't worry I watched the whole show. You were...amazing. Oh, I got you these." I quickly handed her the bouquet, "They're beautiful." Her face lit up, "Perfect, they're perfect." She cradled them in one arm while the other fiddled with the petals. "Thank you." She said with that sweet smile of hers. "My pleasure, I knew you'd like them." I really didn't, I was actually terrified she wouldn't like them. "Hey...would you maybe..." Her eyes glistened in the street lights as she looked up from the flowers, "...would you maybe like to go to dinner with me?" I was a bit taken aback by the sudden question. I paused, "Yeah, I would love to. But it's my treat." "You don't have to i'm the one who invited you." She said lightly laughing. "Well, I would like to treat you after your amazing performance tonight. Where do you wanna eat?" "I know a great place! It's called Bancone, it's an italian place, is that okay?" "Whatever you want is fine with me." I smile. "Okay, uhh, hold on let me call a cab!" She turned and walked to the road. She hailed us a cab.

We both sat in the back of the cab, watching the snow glitter down from the sky. "How far is the restaurant?" I asked turning to her. When I looked at her she was simply smiling down at her flowers. "Oh, we should be there any minute! Actually we're here! Thank you!" She said as she scooted out of the cab. I paid the driver then got out. I was surprised to find she took my hand and led me inside.

We stepped inside and I was taken aback by the olive tree that was planted in the middle of the restaurant. The interior was classy but casual. "Hi! Welcome in! Table for two?" A hostess came up to us. "Yeah, uhm, could we be seated at a window table?" She asked as she dusted off the small pieces of snow she had in her hair. "Of course! Right this way!" The hostess led us to a table in the front of the restaurant. I pulled out her chair for her, "Why thank you good sir." She softly laughed. I sat down. "Can I get you started with any drinks, or would you like a minute?" "Could we get a bottle of the house red? And then I would just like a glass of water." She asked the hostess. "Great choice, and as for you sir?" "I would just like a glass of water, thank you." She handed us our menus then walked away. "What do you think you're gonna get?" I looked up from my menu. "For sure the bucatini, i've been craving it all day." I laugh lightly, "I don't know what I want" I said as I studied the menu, "What do you think?" I looked up at her to find her already looking at me. "I personally think you'll like the duck ragú, I had it last time I came and it was heavenly." She laughed. "Okay I guess it's settled then, wait what about dessert?" "Oo! They have these cannolis! They're covered in hazelnuts you have to try them." Just then a waitress came to the table, "Here is your house red, and waters." She said as she set down our water and presented the bottle.

She opened the bottle with a pop, then filled our glasses. "Thank you" we both said nearly in unison. "Are you ready to order your entrees, or would you like another minute?" "We're ready. I'll have the bucatini and as for dessert we'll do two orders of the hazelnut cannolis." She said as she handed the waitress her menu. "Sure thing! And as for you sir?" She turned to me, "I'll have the duck ragú, that'll be all, thank you." I handed her my menu. "Okay, i'll be back with your food shortly." She smiled then walked away to another table. "You know what I realized?" Y/n said as she twirled the wine in her glass. "What?" "I barely know anything about you, but yet here I am at dinner with you." She tilted her head slightly. "Well, I don't know anything about you either." I laughed, "What do you wanna know?" "Anything! But skip the basic things, I just really wanna know you" She took a sip of her wine. What was I supposed to tell her? That i'm a wizard and that I went to a school to learn sorcery? "I honestly don't know where to start? Just ask me anything, anything." "Mmm, what's your favorite childhood memory?" She said as she took off her scarf.

I took a breath "I would have to say...probably going to see The Nutcracker with my mother." I laughed, she looked up at me curiously. "Ironic isn't it." "Very." "See my father isn't big on...fun. Or anything really. So every year my mother would sneak us out of the house and we would go see the show. As I got older the whole tradition kind of just...stopped. But you know what's crazy?" "Hm?" "The seat that you picked out for me, was the exact same seat my mum would sit in when we would go." She looked at me like I was crazy. "She always said 'it was the best seat in the house' the whole thing felt like a dream." "That's...just...wow. That's a big coincidence huh?" "I know huh, I was so confused. But what about you? What's your favorite memory?" "My grandmother she was absolutely amazing when it came to playing piano. As a little girl she would play the Swan Lake piano arrangement while I danced. We would do this for hours and hours till my mother told us to take a break. I've always loved ballet. What I would give to re-live those memories." She looked out the window and played with the hem of her sleeves as she spoke. "That's...beautiful. So you've been dancing since you were young?" "Yeah, kinda like you my mother took me to see the ballet when I was little. But instead we saw Sleeping Beauty. I was absolutely fascinated by it. For weeks I begged my mother to put me in classes, I guess she just got annoyed of my constant begging and just gave in." She laughed softly. "Well it definitely paid off." I smiled.

We got to know each other all night long. Even though we had already finished our food long ago, we sat there and just talked. About everything. She was just so captivating. Every detail about her was intriguing. Each one of her stories just led me to wanting to know more about her. The way her eyes sparkled a little when she would talk about something she was passionate about. All of her was just perfect. I told her a lot about myself. Maybe more than I should've. Everything about me surrounded the one thing I couldn't tell her. Most of the stories I told her had gaps but I don't think she caught on. I felt almost...bad? For not being able to tell her what could possibly be the biggest detail about me. But seriously how do you just tell someone that. 'Oh yeah, by the way i'm a wizard. And there's millions of other wizards around the world.' And plus even if I wanted to tell her I couldn't. And it was killing me.

We stayed at the restaurant until the waitress told us they were closing soon. "I guess we should get going huh?" She asked as she lightly laughed. "Yeah, I guess so." I slightly frowned. I paid the bill, then we left. We stood on the side walk as the snow continued to fall from the dark sky. Street lamps lit the road, illuminating it with golden rays. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and carried her flowers with both hands. "Could I have your number by the way?" She asked. "Oh, yeah. Here just put your number in and i'll text you later." I handed her my cell. I got a muggle cell phone, specifically for this reason. My father would never approve of me having a device like that. But for her it was worth whatever trouble it could cause. In all reality the reason I asked her to put her number in my cell was because I had no clue how. "Okay, there." She smiled as she handed me back my phone. I looked down, Y/n xx , is what she put as her contact. "I should get going now, I have to be back at the theater early tomorrow." She said as she fiddled with her flowers. I took a breath, "Okay, tonight was really great. When can I see you again?" "Like I said, whenever you want." She smiled, I laughed. She turned out to the road and hailed a cab. "Goodnight!" She yelled out to me before turning back to the cab, she paused, then turned around back to me and ran back to me. She gave me a kiss on my cheek and then a small hug, "Goodnight." "Goodnight." I said a bit surprised. She ran back to the cab and got in. I watched the car disappear down the road, out of sight.

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[kaixserzz]

i looked into the mirror today and i was like GODDAMN my eyebags are HORRIBLE holy shit 😭😭made me think about zandik so here :3 kinda sucks but i just needed to prep myself b4 i write smth longer and get through this state of mind 💀💀

dottore drabble x4 "eyebags"

during your days back at the akademiya, it was not uncommon for scholars and students alike to have sleepless nights for the sake of their own projects and research.

zandik was especially no exception, despite his research usually having nothing to do with the akademiya.

it was always you who would remind him to sleep, so he wouldn't pass out in the middle of writing on his desk or start stumbling as he walks. you seemed to care for his body more than he did himself.

but he'd listen to you anyway, no matter how much he thinks it would be a hindrance to his progress if he dared to sleep, take a break, or even eat. you always seem to manage to convince him into doing things you want (for his own good).

it's not like he could think straight in such a vulnerable state.

so zandik was surprised to see you passed out on the living room floor, with papers messily splayed all over the coffee table, and dirty plates with leftover food on the couch.

if it was him in the scene, you probably would've scolded him for messing up the living room and sleeping there, but as of late, zandik noticed that you've been way too busy. but he hasn't seen you pull all-nighters unless there were exams, or you were nearing a due date.

zandik took it upon himself to investigate, peering into the numerous papers laid on the wooden table and ultimately found out that some of these papers weren't even yours, or were a group project.

he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

without waking you, zandik picked up all the papers and organized them as neatly as possible, resisting the urge to rip them apart. it was your work after all, despite the papers having someone else's name in them. then, he cleaned the dishes you'd left from your midnight snacks.

when you groaned and started blinking blearily awake, zandik gently pushed you back onto the couch, mumbling something about sleeping more.

and when you refused, he glared at you with a huff. "sometimes, your kindness could be such a curse," he remarks as he watched you shakily sit up, yawning, "you look horrible."

ignoring his comment as you stretched your body, noticing the clean living room. you gave a knowing smile to zandik, to which he just scoffed at.

you almost flinched at the sudden touch of his hands on your face, cupping your cheeks soothingly as he stared into your eyes. the fog of sleepiness hasn't been fully cleared from your mind, and you find yourself melting in his hands, sighing blissfully.

his thumbs pressed on the flesh beneath your eyes, and his right eye twitched. "you have big eyebags."

at that, you let out a noise, offended at his words, as you quickly sobered up from your sleepy state and glared halfheartedly at him. your hands found themselves on his face and lightly pinched his cheeks.

"like you're one to talk!" you pouted at him, "you're the one sleeping 2 hours everyday if i don't tell you to sleep!"

"i do not care much of what you do," he quickly lied, and you rolled your eyes, "but i will not stand for your idiocy to do everything yourself." zandik hissed, not noticing how his brewing anger made him dig his nails onto your jawline.

but it wasn't painful, considering how gentle he was whenever he holds you. though, you could tell he was genuinely upset. why were you letting others take advantage of you? he hates it, and you know he will do something about it sooner or later.

your chest felt warm knowing that he cares so much about you.

so you just sighed and grabbed him by his arms, before falling back onto the couch.

zandik yelps as he lands onto your body, and before he could process what you did, you had your arms wrapped around his torso, successfully trapping him. "what are you doing?" he glares at you again, elbows on the both sides of your head, propping himself upwards to not crush you.

"let's sleep a bit more," you cooed, pulling him to you, using all his strength to deny his squirming. you let him lay atop your body, arms refusing to let him go.

zandik flushed at the closeness, struggling to think coherently as your hot breath fanned against his neck. he felt the hairs on his arms stand when you spoke against his skin.

"we're both tired, so let's sleep,"

zandik scowled, but he let himself be comfortable against your body. he couldn't help but breathe in your scent as he buried his face in your chest, slowly growing content in this position. the feeling of your hand rubbing his head in all the right places is slowly lulling him to sleep once more.

"...fine," he relented with a grumble, "just this once, only because you're an idiot who needs a teddy bear to sleep."

you laughed lightly, before kissing him on the cheek. "thanks for looking out for me,"

"whatever..."

ugh, how is he going to sleep when you make his heart pound crazily against his ribcage?

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