#he would start hurting everything that got too close to his friends instead | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maxtermind · 19 days

Note

absolutely loved ‘baby, would i still be your lover’, everyone single one got me in my feels! i was wondering would you consider doing a part 2? whether it ends in angst or fluff

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument- aftermath ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort, hints of angst ★ : word count :: 4.3k ★ : a/n :: thank you so much for the love on part 1 💓 some of these have open ending so you can pick whether you'd like to forgive them or not as a reader!! feedback is appreciated :)

( part 1 )

Max Verstappen

You sighed as you sat down to have your morning tea as usual, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. As if you hadn't spent all night long getting your phone spammed with calls that you were ignoring.

After mindlessly roaming around for a bit, you eventually decided to crash at your best friend’s place. You lazily waved at her as she frantically got ready to leave for work. However, you were on your tiptoe as soon as the door opened.

A body that was possibly sleeping while leaning against the door fell inside and you heard curses that you were quite too familiar with. Your heart clenched at the sight of your boyfriend - or perhaps now, your ex-boyfriend - on his knees, nursing the wound on his head. The ache of seeing him in pain reignited the anguish you thought you had left behind.

“Okay,” you heard your friend murmur. “I'm gonna let you guys get to it.” She was out the door a second later.

You looked at the closed door instead of the man who was desperately trying to make eye contact with you.

“How long have you…” You trailed off before deciding that you didn't want to know.

“As soon as you turned your phone off, Y/N! I've been here since last night.” "Why?" you choked out, the words barely escaping your lips as tears threatened to overflow. His brows furrowed before he ran his hands over his face and got up to sit right next to you. You saw his hand itching toward yours and instinctively pulled it towards your body. "Because I needed to see you in person, to talk." He took another deep breath and you later realized that he was trying to stop himself from crying. “I realize I messed up, baby. I.. I never should have let you walk out.” But his attempt to mend the shattered pieces of your relationship only served to reopen the wounds, your walls instinctively rising in defense,"Talk? You think a talk is going to fix everything?" Max's eyes were filled with a mix of regret and desperation as he reached out for your hand, his fingers trembling slightly. "No, I don't think a talk will magically fix everything," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

"But it's a start. I need you to know that I'm truly sorry for what happened. I hate myself for hurting you, for making you doubt how much you mean to me."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, the pain of the previous night still too fresh in your mind.

“How can I trust you again, Max? How can I be sure that this won't happen again?" Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with the ache of betrayal.

Max's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know I've messed up, Y/N. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. I'll work on my temper, I’ll be better to you, I'll do anything you ask of me. I just need you to give me another chance." “You know you’ve always been the best to me, right? I just can’t believe that instead of talking it out yesterday, you straight up skipped to breaking up wit-” Fresh tears started falling down your cheeks. Max immediately leaned forward to hold you in his arms and you let him because you needed him. But how could you trust him again? How could you be sure that history wouldn't repeat itself? That he won’t throw away your whole relationship just because the anger got a hold of him? As Max held you close, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you. Part of you wanted to push him away, to scream and shout at him for causing you so much pain. But another part of you craved his warmth, his touch, his presence.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Max whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I messed up, and I hate myself for it. I never meant to hurt you, I swear."

You buried your face in his chest, the tears soaking through his shirt as you struggled to make sense of your feelings.

“I just don't know if I can do this anymore, Max," you admitted, your voice muffled against him. Max tightened his embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I understand," he murmured, his voice gentle. His admission eased your thumping heart a bit, you were glad to have him back. The storm within you finding a momentary calm.

"I made you feel like our relationship was disposable, like breaking up was no big deal. But that couldn't be further from the truth. You're the most important person in my life, baby and the thought of losing you terrifies me. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us, to show you just how much you mean to me. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust if you still want me."

Lewis Hamilton

The weight of Lewis's words hung heavy in the air, suffocating you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your bedroom. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your heart aching with a pain you couldn't quite comprehend. How had a day that started with such a promise turned into this? You buried your face in your hands, the sting of Lewis's words feeling like acid running through your veins.

Outside the door, the silence was deafening, broken only by the muffled sound of your sobs. Lewis stood frozen in place, his mind racing as he replayed the exchange in his head.

He couldn't believe the words that had escaped his lips, couldn't fathom how he had allowed his frustration to morph into such hurtful remarks.

Minutes stretched into eternity as Lewis grappled with the weight of his actions, the gravity of his words settling like a lead weight in his chest.

He wanted to reach out to you, to apologize and make things right, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the magnitude of his mistake.

Inside the bedroom, you were consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal - they all swirled together into an ugly monster, threatening to engulf you whole.

How could the man you loved, the man who had always been your rock, turn on you with such venom?

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was a flicker of doubt, a gnawing fear that maybe Lewis's words held a grain of truth. Maybe you were too insecure, too needy, too demanding. Maybe you were asking for too much, expecting him to be there for you when he had his own priorities and responsibilities. Maybe-

The sound of a soft knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Lewis standing there, his expression wrought with regret and guilt. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the unspoken apology hanging heavy in the air. Looking at him distraught made your chest feel worse. How could he make you feel ten fold worse than this and not feel a thing?

"I'm sorry," Lewis finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean what I said. I was out of line, and I know I hurt you. Please, let me make it right." He rushed through the words.

His words pierced through the haze of your pain, and you felt a bit of heaviness leaving your body. He crossed the room in a few strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

"I don't know what came over me," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion before your boyfriend took your hand away from your face and kissed your cheeks. "I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I lashed out at you, and I hate myself for it. You don't deserve to be treated that way, especially not by me."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was genuine remorse and regret. And despite the pain still raw in your chest, you couldn't deny the love you felt for him, the longing to mend what had been broken between you. “You hurt me,” you whispered but didn’t push him away as he laid down with you, holding you close to his chest. Some of your resolve wavering when you felt his fast heartbeat. “I wanted you there so much.” He nodded as he shushed you, his own eyes dropping tears. “I’m so so sorry, baby. I can't even begin to express how deeply I regret the way I acted the whole day, I know you deserve so much more but-” You shifted slightly, knowing all that you wanted right now was comfort, you didn't want to forgive him or minimize the weight of his actions. "I don't know if I can right now," you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

Lewis's eyes brimmed with tears as he whispered, "Please don't shut me out. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You felt a pang of guilt at the pain evident in his voice. "I just need some time to process everything," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand," Lewis replied, his tone filled with sorrow. "But please know that I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

You nodded, silently acknowledging his words as you allowed yourself to be enveloped in his comforting embrace.

"I promise to make it up to you," Lewis vowed earnestly, his voice laced with determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

"I want to believe you," you admitted quietly, your heart heavy with uncertainty. Everything was a little too raw right now and your emotions were all over the place.

"I'll spend every moment proving it to you," Lewis declared, his eyes locking with yours in a silent vow.

“I was thoughtless and cruel today, and I never should have let those words leave my lips. You are not insecure, you are strong and resilient, baby. You deserve so much better than the hurtful words I spoke. Please know that I can’t lose you, Y/N. I will work tirelessly to regain your trust and rebuild what I have so carelessly shattered. You mean the world to me, and I will spend every moment striving to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos Sainz

As you sat nervously in your childhood home, the familiar sights and sounds providing little comfort, your mind raced with thoughts of disappointment and hurt.

For the third time, Carlos had failed to join you in meeting your parents, leaving you to face their questioning looks and unspoken concerns alone. You had rehearsed what you would say to them, how you would explain his absence, but each time, the words caught in your throat, choked by a mixture of frustration and sadness. For the past few days since you walked out of your apartment, you had been ignoring Carlos’ attempts to reconcile with you. The calls and texts he spammed you with were ignored and curses left your mouth as soon as your mind went back to the day of the argument, bringing unwanted tears to your eyes.

In the passing, you saw a Ferrari conference being conducted and as much as you wanted to reach out and talk it out with him, your heart did flips that you were sure you should have visited a doctor for.

Your parents, ever perceptive, noticed your unease as you fidgeted with the napkin in your lap, casting worried glances in your direction. You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered, betraying the turmoil within you.

How could you explain to them that the man you loved couldn't find the time to meet them, despite his promises and assurances? "What's wrong, sweetie?" your mom asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment before replying, "It's Carlos... He like…"

Your dad's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to muster a reassuring smile. "Yeah, he said that he got caught up with work. You know how busy he is with his racing and all..." Your dad’s brows furrowed when you trailed off, about to ask you what exactly you meant but just as you were steeling yourself to broach the subject, the doorbell rang, startling you from your thoughts.

Your heart sank as you realized it was likely a neighbor stopping by to meet you since you don’t visit that often, you stood up to go greet them. But then, to your disbelief, you heard his voice drifting through the door, before you saw your boyfriend standing right behind it. Your head titled in confusion and you drew a breath that took most of the stress from the previous days away from your body.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, his tone apologetic yet determined. Carlos took your hand and kissed it lightly,"Traffic was a nightmare." “What about the conference that you-” “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N.” He cut you off before pulling you in and walking to the dining room that was in his vision. As if that was the answer to your question.

You turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of hope. There he was, looking slightly disheveled but undeniably earnest, his gaze that locked on yours was as if it was seeking forgiveness. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret etched in the lines of his face.

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions softening as they took in the sight of Carlos standing before them.

Despite their reservations about his repeated absences, they couldn't deny the genuine affection that Carlos held in his eyes when he looked at you.

Before you could find the words to respond, Carlos took a step forward, his hand reaching out tentatively. "I'm really sorry, both of you," he said, addressing your parents directly.

"I know how important this is to you, and I should have made more of an effort to be here on time."

His words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of his shortcomings and a pledge to do better. You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and a glimmer of renewed faith in your relationship. "Well, we're just glad you could make it," your dad said, offering Carlos a handshake.

"Thank you for coming, Carlos," your mother said, her voice warm yet cautious. "We understand that life gets busy, but it's important to make time for the people who matter most."

Carlos nodded, his expression earnest as he met her gaze. "I couldn't agree more. Family means putting in effort, I promise to make it up to all of you."

As you sat down to dinner, the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of reconciliation and hope. Your hand still intertwined with his as you saw him charm your family. Despite the rocky start, Carlos's presence brought a newfound sense of unity and understanding to the table. And as you shared stories and laughter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to mend what had seemed irreparably broken.

In that moment, you realized that love wasn't just about grand gestures or sweeping declarations—it was about the everyday moments of connection and compromise, the willingness to forgive and grow together.

And as you looked at Carlos, his eyes filled with determination and affection, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand.

Charles Leclerc

Charles had apologized right after he had said those words and though you had both fallen back into routine, the underlying bitterness and resentment was still present. You weren’t the one initiating any kind of affection from your side and every time Charles was initiating anything, you half assed your way out of it. Was it childish? Probably. But you were still not comfortable with how easily you had forgiven Charles, burying your hurt just to avoid conflict once again despite knowing deep down that he has hurt you probably more than anyone else ever has. These thoughts were running through your head as you sat beside Charles, your heart still heavy with the weight, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Especially because Charles seemed distant, his mind preoccupied with thoughts, that you couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were. Why had he even asked to go on a date today? To break up with you? Suddenly, Pippa appeared, her presence causing the knot to form in your stomach to get tighter. She approached with a confident stride, a charming smile gracing her lips as she greeted Charles with a hug.

"Hey, Charlie!" Pippa exclaimed, her eyes flickering briefly in your direction before returning to Charles. "Long time no see!"

Charles returned her hug, though his embrace seemed somewhat forced. "Hey, Pippa. Yeah, it's been a while."

You observed their interaction closely, your unease growing with each passing moment. Pippa's presence always seemed to unsettle you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their friendship than met the eye. Was he gonna break up with you in public and confess his years long feelings for Pippa? Charles glanced at you, his expression softening as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I was just out with Y/N today."

You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at his actions, his affectionate gesture soothing some of the tension that had been building between you.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Pippa said, offering you a friendly smile. "Sorry I didn’t see you next to Charlie."

You returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach your eyes and managed to reply without gagging. "Nice to meet you, Pippa." Charles tightened his grip on your hand, silently reassuring you of his presence and support. "We were just grabbing a coffee," he explained, his gaze flickering between you and Pippa. "Care to join us?"

Pippa hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at you before turning back to Charles. "Actually, I was hoping we could catch up alone, if that's okay."

You felt a pang of anxiety at her words, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach. Despite your reservations, you nodded, forcing a smile as you released Charles's hand. It was better to walk away yourself than to have Charles dismiss you.

"Of course," you said, though your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. "I'll wait for you outside."

Charles shot you an alarmed look as you stood up,”I’ll see you in a few.” Charles’ hand lingered on yours for a moment longer before you reluctantly let go and made your way to the door.

You leaned against your car and enjoyed the wind for a second. You couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the exchange between your boyfriend and his best friend sitting inside.

You were half scared to find them kissing or something but, instead a sense of confusion washed over you as you watched the way Pippa was angrily point a finger at Charles and scream at him.

It was a second later when she stormed out before making her way towards you.

"Is he doing this because of you?!" Pippa's accusatory tone sent a shiver down your spine, her words hitting too close to home.

Before you could even process what was happening, Charles emerged from the cafe, his expression determined as he approached you and Pippa.

"Go home, Pippa," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he intertwined his hand with yours.

Pippa's eyes blazed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Charles. "You will regret this, Charles!" she spat before storming off, leaving you both standing there in stunned silence.

Once Pippa was out of sight, you turned to Charles, your heart pounding in your chest. "What was that all about?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Y/N. Pippa has been... difficult lately."

You frowned, your mind reeling with confusion and frustration. "Difficult how?"

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the right words. "She's been pushing boundaries, trying to come between us. But I won't let her."

"Hey," he continued, taking your hand in his. "I told Pippa that I wouldn't be spending time with her alone anymore. If she can't accept you, then it's better for us to not be friends at all."

You blinked in surprise, a rush of gratitude flooding through you at his words. "Really?"

Charles nodded, squeezing your hand gently. "Really. You're the most important person in my life, and I won't let anyone come between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Thank you, Charles. I appreciate you standing up for us."

He smiled softly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'll always stand up for us, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you threw your arms around him, holding him close. Despite the lingering bitterness and resentment, you couldn't deny the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment.

Lando Norris

As you stepped out of the taxi, the cool night air enveloped you, offering a moment of respite from the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed you throughout the evening.

Your heart still felt heavy with the weight of Lando's hurtful words, but beneath the pain, a numbness resided- knowing deep down that you might’ve just broken up with your boyfriend.

Before you could take another step, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, you saw Lando rushing towards you, his eyes filled with remorse and his expression wrought with sorrow. Your hand instinctively went to your chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Y/N, please wait," he called out, his voice pleading as he reached your side, breathless from his haste.

You pulled your face to meet his eyes, uncertainty and wariness etched into your features as you met his gaze. Part of you yearned to turn away, to shield yourself from the pain of his words, but another part couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he was sincere in his apology.

"Lando," you said softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and apprehension. You wanted to say more but the damn ball in your throat stopped you doing so.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he searched for the right words to express the depth of his regret. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I hurt you, and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for that."

His words washed over you like a soothing balm, offering a sliver of comfort. But still, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of the hurt that lingered in your heart.

"I should have been there for you tonight, supporting you and showing you how much you mean to me," Lando continued, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "Instead, I let my own selfishness and insecurities get in the way, and for that, I am truly sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the sincerity in his voice echoing the ache in your own heart. You were sure you’ll regret letting go of this amazing relationship without at least attempting to work on it.

Despite the pain he had caused you, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N," Lando said softly, his hands shaking and showcasing the intensity of his vulnerability.

"I know I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust and your love. But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I promise to do whatever it takes to show you how much you mean to me, every single day for the rest of my life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and remorse, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto the pain of the past and the hope for a brighter future. As you gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or deceit, all you found was raw honesty and unwavering devotion.

With a heavy heart and a flicker of hope, you reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you just yet, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lando takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'll spend every moment proving I'm worthy of your love, Y/N. Let me show you how much you mean to me, starting from this moment. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, even if it means giving you the space you need. Just know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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lnfours · 3 months

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* ✰. — the meet cute | l.n

summary: you never thought your best friends wedding would be where you’d find the love of your life or the first part to ‘the mini valentine’s day playlist’

warnings: a meet cute!! best man!lando x moh!reader, a wedding between p and max f, pining, fluff, language, drinking, if you listen closely you can hear me sobbing in the distance

masterlist | next part | listen to the soundtrack

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the wedding venue was packed, people seated and excitedly chatting about the soon to be mr and mrs fewtrell.

you were pietra’s best friend, automatically promoting you to maid of honor when max had finally popped the big question. you were happy for her, excited to be apart of her big day with her, cheering her on just like you always had.

you peeked out into the crowd, puffing air out of your cheeks nervously. sure, you didn’t really have much to be nervous about, it’s not like you had to worry about messing up a speech or something grand like that. all you had to worry about was not tripping over the hem of your dress, of your own feet.

a presence pulled you from your thoughts, turning your head to look at the man who had joined next to you. you smiled softly at his tight lipped smile, thankful to see a familiar face.

“hey,” he said, british accent ringing through your ears, “we’re staring soon, you okay?”

you nodded, shaking your head and pushing the nerves down, “yeah, no, i’m good.”

you and lando hadn’t known each other before this week. of course you knew enough about max to know that him and lando were best friends, practically conjoined at the hip, but after all this time your paths never crossed. there was always something standing in the way of pietra and max introducing you to each other, despite knowing endless stories about the other.

however, the way you two had grown so close this past week you would’ve thought you’d been friends for years. it was an instant connection, an instant gravitation towards the other upon introduction. you couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was almost like he was as addictive as your favorite song. the kind you could listen to on repeat over and over again and never get sick of it.

“you sure?” he asked, eyes searching yours. you nodded back at him, smiling softly again. he didn’t bother pushing it further, but instead offered you his arm, “lets watch our best friends get married.”

you laughed softly, joining his arm with yours as he led you through the hallway and back to where the lineup was forming. you stood at the back with lando, arms linked still as the wedding music started. you felt those butterflies start to come back, gently squeezing onto his bicep.

he looked down at you and leaned his head towards your ear, “you’ve got this.”

you looked up into those stupidly gorgeous green eyes, brown curls perfectly styled. he looked good in a tux and he looked good in the hoodies he had been sporting at rehearsals too. you were pretty sure he could pull off just about anything, which was kind of unfair.

the doors opened and you and lando were face to face with the crowd. you smiled at the familiar faces, looking towards the cameras and phones before turning your head back to him. to your surprise, he was already looking at you. taking in everything about you, studying the side of your face like he was going to be quizzed on it later on in the night.

he had walked you over to the other bridesmaids before the music changed and the doors opened to reveal pietra in her dress. everyone stood, smiling and wiping away a few tears as she joined hands with max who had wiped his eyes on the shoulder of his suit.

lando met your eyes as the preacher spoke, the both of you smiling before you tilted your head down. the energy in the room made it impossible not to smile, not to be happy. plus, with the added feelings that sparked at every little touch and glance you and him stole, it was a wonder your cheeks weren’t hurting yet.

it was finally time for the reception, taking care of more ceremonial events before everyone intermingled. you had made your way to the bar, ordering a drink. you heard your name, looking over to see p and your group of friends waving you over. drink in hand, you wandered over to the girls who were begging to know just about everything.

“please tell me you and lando have a thing going on,” madison, the taller brunette, sighed, “if not, you need to.”

“no seriously,” chloe, the shorter, tanner, blonde said, “you two were making heart eyes at each other the whole time!”

pietra laughed, looking over at you, “i knew i should’ve rigged the bouquet toss for your favor.”

you rolled your eyes, “for one, we weren’t making heart eyes at each other. is he cute? one hundred percent, but i don’t know-“

“oh c’mon,” madison laughed, “you’ve gotta admit you want it just as much as he does.”

“how do you even know he wants it?”

“because he’s been staring at you all night,” pietra smiled, looking over at lando as he talked with max and his family, laughing before he felt eyes on him and his eyes met yours once again. he smiled, turning to say something to max before he took his friend took his glass. you whipped back around to the girls, just to find that they had disappeared, leaving you to have your moment with him.

he smiled, hands in his pockets as you turned back around to see him.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“no,” you waved him off, “the girls were just right here, and they disappeared.”

he looked around with you, “think they went over to the dance floor.”

you nodded, “makes sense,”

“ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom would like to invite you to join them on the dance floor for a slow song.”

you watched as couples joined hands, smiling and laughing as you spotted max and pietra swaying back and forth. her head on his chest as they danced, a smile on his face as his head rested on hers. completely in love.

lando looked over at you, clearing his throat softly, “did you wanna dance?”

you looked back at him, “you wanna dance?”

“well, they did invite us out onto the dance floor.”

“i don’t know,” you mumbled, “i’m not a very good dancer-“

he rolled his eyes with a chuckle and grabbed your glass from your hand. you sighed in defeat, watching him put it on the table as he grabbed onto your hand.

“you’re dancing, c’mon.”

“i have two left feet.”

“i think you’re just overthinking it.”

he had you there. you didn’t want to not dance with him, in fact there was nothing else you’d rather do. but the thought of his hands on you, it sent fire through your body and it made it impossible to think straight.

he took your waist into his hands, your arms wrapping around his neck. you looked down at your feet before your gaze was adverted as he lifted your head back up with a finger under your chin.

“don’t look at your feet, just sway,” he smiled softly, “if you look at your feet, you’ll fuck it up.”

you nodded, looking into his eyes again. this time you were close enough to see the specks of blue in his green eyes, how his eyelashes kissed his cheeks every time he blinked, how his beauty marks and freckles cutely decorated his face.

he was pretty, so so pretty. there was no denying it.

you licked your lips as he did the same with you, studying your face again as he tried his hardest to memorize it, “so…” your voice trailed off.

“so,” he echoed back, “‘re you having a good time?”

you nodded, “the best.”

“me too,” he said, reaching out gently to push a piece of hair from your face, “i’ve been meaning to tell you since i saw you earlier, but you look absolutely stunning.”

you blushed softly, feeling your cheeks turn hot, “so do you. handsome, i mean.”

he laughed softly, “i’m good with being classified as stunning.”

you rolled your eyes and laughed softly, “shut up,”

he smiled. normally he wasn’t this nervous when it came to asking girls on dates. normally he was able to keep cool, keep calm and achieve victory. but you messed with his head, sent him through a loop he had never been through. he wanted to do everything with you, he wanted it all.

his mouth spoke before his brain could filter it, “did you wanna go on a date with me?”

you looked up at him with wide eyes, immediate regret washing over his face as your silence made his cheeks turn hot.

“oh, i’m sorry-“

“no, it’s okay-“

“- i don’t know where that came from-“

“lando,”

“i’m sorry if i crossed any-“

“lando!” you laughed, causing him to stop his rambled apology. he looked at you, the smile you wore on your face calming his nerves.

“i’d love to go on a date with you.”

he smiled, chuckling to himself as he pulled you closer. your head rested against his chest as he held you close, “thank god.”

you laughed, smiling against his dress shirt, thinking about how this could be the beginning of the two of you, how it would all start right here in this moment.

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assassinsblade · 4 months

Text

Forget Me Not | 4

You confuse healing with hurting others; Azriel's ready to let you hurt him anyway.

WC: 3.5k

Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. Angst, feelings, my poor boy Azriel is sad.

a/n: I'm so thankful for all the support and kind comments for this story! There will still be at least 2 more parts. Sorry for this one being a bit shorter.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

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Azriel hadn't interacted with you much since lending you his dagger.

He was always there, sure, but he seemed to be letting you lead wherever your friendship would go. He did not try to force you into speaking with him or being around him, but you did notice his nervous energy when you were around.

When you'd pass him in the House of Wind, run into one another in the library, or sit across from each other at dinner, you couldn't help but study how he'd changed. While he had been quiet before, he had always held a certain peaceful arrogance about him. Now, his silence seemed more insecure and anxious, as if he was not quite sure of himself in his own place of residence.

You hadn't had anyone stay the night with you since that night with Azriel either.

You noticed that he kept his bedroom light on every night, though. You weren't sure if he did this to pretend he was still awake, so you'd be less embarrassed if you needed to wake him, or if he did this to reassure you someone was aware and ready in the house during a time of the night you felt more vulnerable. Either way, you tried not to let it effect you too much.

Some nights when noticing the change between Azriel and yourself got too much, you would cry until your eyes became swollen and burned with exhaustion, finally allowing you to fall asleep. Other nights, every noise in the house caused your anxiety to skyrocket, and you found yourself heading to the library to read as a distraction, knowing you would have to try to rest the following night instead.

Nightmares came every now and then. You had mentioned this to Rhys, assuming that he might have experienced something similar with how much he had gone through, and he suggested a sleeping tonic from Madja. You took it nightly, and it seemed to help the majority of the time.

It had been two months since that night, and while your progress was no where near finished, and your trauma would forever be a part of you, you felt less fragile than you did in those previous weeks. You had started showing up to group events again with the whole inner circle, laughing had become more of a consistent part of your days with the help of Cassian and Mor, and the House had even helped prepare food you could keep down until your appetite was back to normal.

The only thing that didn't seem to be getting any better was your relationship with Azriel.

He tried to help in his own way. He left books out in inconspicuous locations that he thought you would like. There would be a box of your favorite pastries on the kitchen counter in the morning, as if anyone else in the household liked their tart flavor. Sometimes you would even notice shadows slinking into your room at night, tugging at the window locks and blinds to ensure everything was secure.

And you knew he wasn’t trying to be noticeable with these things. In fact, it seemed like he was doing everything in his power to not draw attention to himself. He would instead scan through the pages of the books to see if you had made any notes, check the pastry boxes to make sure you had eaten something, or have his shadows close the window when the cold air was beginning to wake you up.

The fact that it all helped only made you angrier.

The inner circle noticed your frustration around the shadowsinger as well, especially during Winter Solstice celebrations.

You had felt good enough to join the rest of the group at the River House, but it was obvious enough how tense things were between you and Azriel:

Friends exchanged gifts, hugs, and laughter, but Azriel kept to himself the entirety of the night, only occasionally sending one of his family members a small smile or taking a sip of his drink.

He had gotten everyone very thoughtful gifts, and he seemed genuinely touched at the presents he received in return. You tried not to flinch at the gardening book he had gotten Elain or the decorated sheath she had gotten him for one of his daggers.

Azriel and Elain didn't speak much that night though, as much as you tried not to notice. You really did try not to notice Azriel so much, but it was as if your gaze was being pulled to him by some unknown force, demanding that you acknowledge that he was here, close to your side, his attention all on you.

And you felt that attention more than ever when Feyre handed you a box wrapped in midnight blue, the wrapping paper glinting from where you sat by the fire.

Swallowing, you refused to look up at Azriel, knowing it would only make the feeling in your stomach worse.

You heard Rhys making conversation in the background, trying to ease the tension and take some attention away from yours and Azriel's exchange.

The shadowsinger also tried to give you privacy, chiming in here and there to add to Rhys’ conversation, but you still felt his eyes keep moving to you.

Fingers fumbled with unwrapping and pulling apart the box before finally revealing what lay beneath.

Underneath a layer of tissue paper sat a delicate piece of glass about the size of a piece of paper. It was transparent, but somehow held some light and color at certain angles, adding a sort of whimsical iridescence to it. It was stunning, and your careful fingers felt unworthy of holding such an awe-inspiring thing. Your only problem was you had no idea what it actually was.

Azriel cleared his throat, and you couldn't stop your eyes from floating to his.

"It's a translator." He fidgeted from the chair he sat in. "From the Day Court. If you place it on a page of writing, it will translate the text to whatever language you request. I thought you might want to expand some of the books you have access to."

Your heart pounded in your chest. He knew you loved reading. He knew you loved studying. He knew you and had gotten you a gift that made you so excited you had to actively scold yourself to loosen your grip on the glass.

His hazel eyes were filled with so much emotion as he tried to gauge your reaction, you felt something physically crack in your chest.

You tried to will your tears down.

"Thank you," you whispered, unable to make your voice louder. Azriel accepted it all the same, giving you a small nod before clasping his hands together and averting his gaze back to Rhys.

You hadn't gotten anything for Azriel.

You didn't have much to give him anymore. He knew that, despite the sadness that surrounded him that night.

Maybe it was because you would have gotten him a solstice gift before. Not only would you have picked something out months in advance, you would have teased him about it, gone giddy with excitement over the surprise.

After what happened, there hadn’t been a gift in that pile addressed to him from you, and it only served to show the damage that had been done to your friendship.

You tried not to let what he had done damage you further, continuing to build up your walls both physically and emotionally.

Cassian’s training was great for the body and mind, and you put all of your focus into that.

Training had allowed for you to channel some of the agony harbored in your chest into exercise. Every night around 9pm you would meet the general up in the training ring, going over anything from conditioning and weight lifting to actual battle tactics like sword training and hand-to-hand combat.

You knew that Azriel normally came up to train late at night, but it seemed like he pushed his time later in order to give Cassian and you some privacy. You tried not to think about how little of sleep he must be getting if he wasn't coming up to train until midnight. It wasn't your problem.

At first, you were scared both intrusive thoughts and your body's memory would hinder your sessions. You had been hesitant and nervous, but Cassian had quickly made you feel at ease. You knew he had trained Gwyn, and Cassian was a trusted friend, so you shouldn't have been surprised when the sessions went swimmingly.

Cassian was such a steady presence, someone you knew you could always rely on. He made sure to check in on you every night, casually asking questions that seemed nonchalant enough to not be overbearing or annoying while still showing he cared. That didn't stop him from overstepping at times though.

Hours ago, Cassian had been sparring with you in the training ring, his steps circling your own and hands raised ready to strike. You had followed his movements, trying to remember everything you had been taught while silencing outside noises.

You weren't sure if he had said it to get under your skin, to win the upper hand, or if it was something he had actually been pondering for a while.

When you had taken a step as if to attack, Cassian had eyed the dagger in your hand — Azriel’s dagger —and had bluntly asked, "Do you think you'll ever forgive him?"

You had nearly stumbled in your stance.

The inner circle had been very careful to tiptoe around you and Azriel. They didn't ask about your relationship or where you stood, never tried to force interactions or situations upon the two of you, and you had gotten used to the peace of their feigned ignorance.

You had to shake off the shock of his question before it festered in your chest.

"What?" You had decided to ask instead, buying yourself some time to think.

You didn't know what you were doing with your body anymore, if you were still on physically guard, fighting, or if all of your energy was being put toward guarding your emotions.

"I'm not saying you should," Cassian had quickly amended. "But I am wondering where your head is at."

Only staring at him, your eyebrow arched in challenge. "Should it be somewhere specific?"

Cassian's sigh had been near silent in the large room, and the large warrior seemed to deflate at your answer. "No. Of course not."

"Good," you had only replied, voice hard and final. "Then let's keep going."

Cassian had gone right back to his teasing, difficult self, but he left not too long after that sparring round ended.

That had been hours ago, but you were still there, knives and daggers lined up, throwing them at the boards across from you. Each throw had you huffing, and with your strength depleting, your aim became further and further off through the night.

Your arms were sore and numb, both from throwing the weapons and from sparring with Cassian earlier. But it felt good, knowing your muscles were being used, knowing you were growing stronger, more powerful and less vulnerable.

Sleep should have found you about an hour ago, but you knew you wouldn't be able to get any tonight. Cassian's words flowed nonstop through your head: Do you think you'll ever forgive him?

I don't know Cassian, do you think he'll ever stop being such a fuck-up?

The question made you angry, because this situation was never about him, and you didn't owe Azriel anything.

You knew Azriel was Cassian's brother. You knew everyone wanted your family to be whole again, to stop seeing each other hurting. But you were angry at the expectations placed on you by your friends to offer forgiveness, you were angry at Azriel for being too late in every area of your life, and you were angry at yourself for missing him.

Gods, you wanted to scream, to thrash, to hit yourself until you could force yourself into just minutes of peaceful rest.

Do you think you'll ever forgive him?

Do you think he deserves forgiveness?

You paused, breathing heavily as you thought over your own words and reaction. You knew he was trying, but you also knew some things didn't change. And some people weren't worth getting hurt over again.

Before you could pull the dagger in your hand back and launch it forward toward the wooden board, you noticed the shift in the air.

Shadows danced along the floors, curling and floating around training equipment.

You knew Azriel moved back the time he would come up here to train independently so that you and Cassian could have privacy. You knew that you were technically the one infringing on his claimed time and peace now. That didn't stop the wave of frustration that rolled over you, though.

Azriel's presence mimicked that same wave shoving you under. You were sick of it. Sick of feeling like you couldn't breathe, like you couldn't fight back, like every single inch of your body wouldn't listen to you anymore. You were sick and tired of feeling worthless, like you would never be loved, like you would never be someone's priority. And you were so fucking tired of being sad.

Fire burned within your veins, but it wasn't because of shame or hurt. You were angry again. You had deserved better, and you had gotten left in the dust like a piece of trash. And he thought a pretty present could fix things? Could fix you?

As if the iridescent glass sheet could blur the memory of the male's tongue on your neck, the feeling of his fingers touching where they shouldn't, translating the history written on your body into something more pleasant, more beautiful, like a tale of a hero rescuing the dame and whisking her off to safety.

Before you knew what you were doing, you took the dagger Azriel had lent you and turned with a speed and strength you had never aimed at another person, heaving out a noise of frustration and sending the weapon flying toward Azriel's form just inside the doorway.

You saw red. The red of the male's blood in the alleywall, the red of your own blood, the red of Azriel's blood now beading along his bicep, the red of pure unfiltered rage.

"You are a piece of shit, Azriel. A fucking selfish, cruel, shallow bastard. Do you know that?"

Your chest heaved as you tried to control yourself, your fingers already itching for another weapon. It wasn't enough to see you had nicked his skin. You wanted him to fight back, you wanted to hurt him as badly as he had hurt you.

"Is that why you go after damaged females? In an attempt to find something redeemable about yourself? To act like the hero, like some sort of protector?"

He flinched at the words but otherwise remained unmoving. You hated him for it.

"You're no hero. You're a joke."

You watched as the blow landed, and a wave of adrenaline rushed over you. You deserved this. You had been bleeding for months, crawling up the well of your depression until your fingertips were raw and worn, and these attacks against him felt like a hand reaching down from the heavens, like an extra surge of energy to keep yourself going. You didn't want to be the one bleeding, it was someone else's time to bleed for once.

A step toward him, but he didn't move.

"Do you know what the priestesses tell me?"

He blinked, swallowing harshly.

"They say it's not my fault, what happened to me." You shrugged, letting out a bitter chuckle. "I guess they are partially right. Because it's your fault too. And the male's. But I'm not completely blameless here. I mean what in the Cauldron's name was I thinking, putting my trust in you?"

That got him. Eyes squeezed shut suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as if he had actually been stabbed. Good.

"After all," you continued, beginning to pace around the training area, languidly taking small steps as if you were telling your own tale. "How many of those close to you have you let down before? Mor, Rhys, Gwyn, Elain, your mother... I really should have expected to get hurt because of you."

You could see wetness on his cheeks, but you still did not back down. And he did not move from his spot, his hazel eyes not even hardening at the onslaught.

You'd just have to go harder.

"Sometimes in my nightmares, your hands are the ones hurting me in that alley. I can feel your scars as you pin me to the wall, as I'm violated." You let out a humorless laugh. "I think my mind keeps trying to tell me that's all you're good for: inflicting damage."

A drop of blood from his bicep fell to the floor in a perfect circle.

You stopped your pacing, only about fifteen feet in front of him, and dropped your hands to your side. With your head held tall, you looked him directly in his eyes, pausing to memorize the broken look of him.

His chest was hardly rising and falling. He stood completely and utterly still. Hazel eyes on your own, jaw clenched, cheeks wet.

He was a beautifully broken portrait. And you had just torn him to shreds.

Summoning the rest of your courage, you spit out the thought that had been tormenting you, curling its way around your heart until you felt it would be strangled.

A thought, and a promise.

"You may have thought me worthy of being forgotten, but I will make sure you never forget what you have done to me."

Breaking eye contact, you walked past him out of the training ring, refusing to turn back. If you thought you heard a wounded noise travel softly from his lips, you ignored it.

Maybe you were a bad person, maybe deep down you were a sadistic, cruel being, but saying those words finally lifted something from your chest. Air came easier, and some part of you felt vindicated after unleashing yourself, despite the shaking that immediately overcame you in your retreat.

You might have been confused. Your chest might have been swarming with overwhelming, conflicting emotions and adrenaline. You were filled with so much love and hate, so much yearning and anger, but you at least felt like you had a release, the swirling poison in your chest no longer sitting so close to your heart.

Do you think you'll ever forgive him?

It was cathartic. The sharp words, watching them pierce him down to his core, seeing as he cried over what you'd become. And for once, as you let the cool breeze wash over your overworked muscles, you felt tears build in your eyes not from sadness but from relief.

Like a fire burnt out, you dragged your weary body back to the House of Wind, barely making it to your bed before collapsing.

You imagined Azriel standing where you left him, bleeding from where you had slashed him. He hadn't even said a word — he had just let you tear him to pieces.

Was it his own way to punish himself? Was this about him all over again?

Do you think you'll ever forgive him?

Maybe if you knew what was coming in the days following, you would have said yes. Maybe you would have wanted to be around him more, to actually try, instead of pushing him away. Maybe you would have realized that you weren’t just punishing him but yourself as well.

But you didn’t know what was coming. So you pushed the image of his wounded expression, the way he had physically flinched at your words, away from your mind, closed your eyes, and went to sleep.

If you dreamt about his scarred hands scooping you up in that alleyway, bringing you close to his chest and keeping you safe, you'd never admit it.

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x you

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pigfacedbitch · 9 months

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Phobia

idea : your phobia relates to your boyfriend's gifted godly abilities.

word count : 0.8k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : phobia speaks for itself. personally, it's thalassophobia for me. 😓

here is my masterlist!

Jason Grace | Acrophobia (Fear of Heights)

Due to having the same fear as his sister, Jason is completely aware of the dos and dont's when you're an acrophobic.

If you two are forced in situations where you need to be in high places, he always attempts to distract you with anything he can think of.

He prefers embarrassing stories over jokes. His delivery is too deadass and his 'i'm-trying-hard-here-it's-not-funny' look makes you laugh before the punchline.

Knowing that it can be associated with the fear of falling, Jason will reassure you every time that he's going to catch you.

If you did fall, during some battle for example, he will asks you to close your eyes and hold you tighter before slowly bringing you down.

He really lives up to that Superman nickname so much, the others started calling you Lois Lane.

Percy Jackson | Thalassophobia (Fear of Deep Bodies of Water)

Percy would be bummed out. Being the son of Poseidon, he loves to be in the water.

Everything about him— from his favorite hobbies to his happiest of memories, revolves around it and he wants to share that with you.

He plans on taking you on trips underwater; introduce you to the majestic marine creatures nobody else has seen before, unravel mysteries the sea has to offer, and form a big bubble where you can do whatever you want without being interrupted (ehem👀).

But how can he make all of it possible when your fear is literally all of those?

Percy would want to help you get over it. He wouldn't force you but he will at least try convince you.

If you refuse, he will respect that.

But if you accept his help, he'll try to take it one step at a time. Probably by starting to show you how the sea, no matter terrifying it is, is also beautiful place.

Leo Valdez | Pyrophobia (Fear of Fire)

Initially, Leo will laugh. I mean, who wouldn't?

You're a pyrophobic yet you're dating someone who is actually made out of fire?

After he notices that you're not joking, he will begin to be terrified for you. Expect that Leo will be extra careful when you are with him, especially when he is working on something.

His contraptions deemed too dangerous like explosives, will be kept somewhere far away.

As much as he thinks your presence will make Bunker 9 a lovelier workspace, he will understand if you don't want to go there. The essense of it is from the god of fire himself— I mean you need a blast of fire to enter.

He also will refrain himself from using his fire abilities in a fight, making do with his inventions instead.

While pyrophobia doesn't have specific causes, it may be possible that you had some traumatic experience relating to fire. Leo doesn't want to hurt you or make you feel worse.

Frank Zhang | Zoophobia (Fear of Animals)

Frank is confused. He doesn't know that the fear of animals is a thing and would wonder why you agreed on dating him in the first place.

He will ask you tons of questions; what caused your phobia? Are you afraid of all animals, a few, or just one? What can I do? After your conversation, he's going to search more information.

If you're afraid of one animal only, Frank will forget it ever existed. He will never talk of that animal again even when you're not around.

The others will joke about it. Example, if you're scared of snakes—

"What is a snake, Frank?"

"What's that, Leo? I have no idea, so let's never speak of it again."

In the case that you're afraid of all animals (this is a rare condition), he will not use his abilities and will train harder in combat.

When he really doesn't have a choice but to shapeshift in a fight, you two will separate with your friends' assurance that they got your back.

Frank is a nice guy but if someone made an offensive comment about your phobia or hardcore pranks involving that animal? Expect the wrath and rage of Mars.

Nico Di Angelo | Phasmophobia (Fear of Ghosts)

I'm sorry but Nico will slightly judge you. Really, a ghost? What are you, five?

Like Frank, he will ask you what caused your phobia.

He will feel terrible and comfort you if you have the same experience as Reina and Jason, who's loved ones turned into a mania. If it's because of horror movies, he will awkwardly pet your head.

You may think the subject is dropped but Nico will make sure that no ghost will ever come near you.

Having the infamous title 'Ghost King', he will not hesitate to torment and threaten the spirits who try to approach, scare, or talk to you.

He will take you on dates to McDonalds but he will not bring you to any 'ghost business'.

If you want to get rid of your phobia, Nico will summon ghosts who can entertain you; like singers, dancers, those that can do tricks, and stand up comedians.

He will also show you how easily he can bend any ghost to his will, proving to you that there's nothing to be afraid of.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson headcanons #heroes of olympus headcanons #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #hoo imagine #pjo imagine #jason grace #jason grace x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #frank zhang #frank zhang x reader #nico di angelo #nico di angelo x reader #riordanverse

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wannabeschyulersister · 3 months

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lovelorn and nobody knows

Sometimes it felt like you had the words “I’m in love with my boss” written on your forehead in big capital letters.

As much as you tried to hide it, you couldn’t help but marvel at him. He was truly amazing at his craft and seeing him so passionate made you want to do it as well.

There were times that he acted a little like a jerk but he’d redeemed himself recently. Thanks to Sydney.

And to Claire.

You were surprised when you learned he was seeing someone. He brought Claire around when the restaurant was practically falling apart. It was such a weird moment. You physically could feel the awkwardness in the air.

She seemed really nice but part of you still disliked her just because she could call Carmy hers.

You avoided being around them as much as possible. It hurt just looking at the way he smiled at her.

Every part of your being wished that were you.

You wished you were the one he confided in after a long day at the Bear. You wished that you were the one he walked around the city with hand in hand. You wished you were the one that had his heart.

You felt like a lovesick fool.

Instead of subjecting yourself to seeing the happy couple, you started to back out of any group activities unless it was absolutely necessary.

The group would often go and get drinks at a nearby bar at least once a week. You stopped going as soon as you heard Claire was a regular now. People would ask if you were going and you always had a lie ready to go.

As much as you loved working at The Bear, you knew that it would probably be best if you removed yourself from the situation. It hurt every time you had to be around Carmen and Claire. You didn’t want to constantly put yourself in heartache.

There was a popular Italian restaurant across town that needed a sous. You had a friend of a friend that recommended you. It was the fresh start that you needed.

When you got the job, it was bittersweet. You should’ve been happier than you were.

So, you drafted up a letter of resignation, took a deep breath, and walked into Carmen’s office after closing. He was busy looking at an invoice when you knocked softly on the doorframe to make yourself known.

He looked at you and smiled a little, “Hey, stranger. We missed you last night.”

“Yeah, sorry I missed it. I uh- have something to give you.” You wanted to get this part over with.

“Yeah? What’s that?” He reached over and grabbed the letter that you handed him. You hoped he didn’t notice the slight shakiness of your hand.

You didn’t answer him because you didn’t trust your voice in that moment. Carmen quickly read through your letter and you watched the expression change on his face.

“What the hell is this? You’re leavin’?” Carmen stood up from his seat and placed your letter down.

“I got a job opportunity that I couldn’t say no too. I’m sorry that this puts you in a situation where you are short staffed but I’m giving you a two weeks notice.” You explained to him.

“I don’t understand. You’re happy here, aren’t you? D-did something happen’ that I’m not aware of?” Carmen questioned.

Yeah, you fell in love with someone else.

You shook your head, “No, nothing happened. I just think I’m ready for a new challenge.”

Carmen didn’t look like he bought your lie. “(Y/n), you don’t think that I’ve noticed that you’re distant and-and you haven’t been coming out with all of us?”

Shit.

You’d hoped that maybe he was so busy with Claire that he hadn’t noticed you slipping away from the group at all.

“I’ve just been busy with other things.” You lied again.

“What’s going on?” He questioned.

“Nothing is going on, Carmen.”

He crossed his arms against his chest and it took everything in you not to stare and drool. Even when you tried to be strong, his biceps made you feel weak.

“I don’t believe you.” He stated.

“That’s fine. I just wanted to do the respectable thing and give you an adequate notice.”

Carmen stared at you and it made you feel like he could read your mind. Like he knew the exact reason on why you were leaving.

“I don’t want you to leave, (Y/n). I think you’re amazing and- and you have a bright future in this industry. I think it’s a mistake.”

Your chest ached at his kind words. “I’m just ready for something new.”

He sighed and looked away from you as someone knocked on the door. You turned and saw Claire holding a takeout bag, “Thought I’d surprise you with dinner.”

“Now isn’t a good time, Claire.” Carmen told her.

She looked disappointed, “Am I interrupting something?”

You quickly shook your head, “No, the conversation is over. Have a good night.”

“(Y/n), wait!” Carmen called out to you but you left his office without another look back.

Even thought it killed you to walk away from him, you had to put yourself first.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x (y/n)#carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #the bear x reader #the bear imagine #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto

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goobtopia · 4 months

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crime and punishment [farleigh start]

!! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

based on this request

summary: after a dinner party at saltburn you confront your long time friend, farleigh, about his odd behavior surrounding felix’s new friend from oxford.

warnings: 18+, SMUT, f!reader, (kinda) p*rn without plot, kissing, praise kink, mentions of p in v sex, thigh riding, nipple play, dom!farleigh, wealthy reader, mention of bullying, swearing, farleigh is both mean and whiny you’ve been warned

[requests are open]

☆ masterlist ☆

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or keep giving me the silent treatment?” You crossed your arms in the entryway of Farleigh’s room. He refused to look up from his Dostoevsky summer reading or give you any kind of acknowledgment.

You sighed, finally entering the room so you could sit at the edge of his bed making sure to shut the door behind you. With you facing him and your legs tucked under your body, he obviously couldn’t focus on the passage enough to continue reading so he sighed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This was classic Farleigh, so upset or so angry that he’d just shut it down instead. It was something of a compliment you guessed, when Farleigh didn’t care to hurt anyone with his words informed by his loathing his insults were quick and harsh. I once watched him send Gavey crying in the quad after spilling coffee on his lecture notes and heard he was in and out of the school counseler’s office after that.

“If this is about earlier…” You trailed off, unknowingly hitting the nail on the head for Farleigh and you jumped when his hard cover book made a deafening crack as it closed. “No, why would I be upset about earlier? It’s not like everyone has been up Oliver’s ass all semester, so much so that you take his side and make me look like a jackass in front of everybody.” He was calm, spoke in a sickly sweet voice as the book was discarded near his pillows.

You never pulled punches with Farleigh, he knew this, which is why he shouldn’t have been so surprised when you defended your actions, “Farleigh you made yourself look like an ass, like when everyone stopped laughing because it was literally painful to watch.” He ran a hand over his khaki colored corduroy pants, his fingers adorned with expensive silver rings, as he rested his ear against his shoulder. A sign he was licking his wounds after you walked out to check on Oliver leaving him alone to sing the rest of his shitty song.

“You get so… prideful around him, like you’re trying to prove something. I’ve never seen you like this.” The way Farleigh kept attacking Oliver was far from his usual pettiness, no Farleigh was always quick but even the butt of his jokes would find themselves laughing about it eventually. Here it was like he was taking everything just a step too far, you didn’t understand how Oliver got under his skin so badly.

Sure, he didn’t come from your world but it wasn’t like he was being a nuisance, there was no reason in your mind to embarrass him by picking a song for him that Farleigh was sure Oliver didn’t know. “Well, he’s a fucking creep. He’s sneaking around with Venetia and he’s cozying up to you lately, he had you using his lap as a couch coushin in there.” He looked disgusted by the thought.

You hadn’t thought anything of it honestly, if Venetia was settled in her brother’s lap in a platonic fashion you figured it was all in the spirit of the night. The closeness and camaraderie we found amongst yourselves in these nights, that was like tradition to you. “Farleigh…” You trailed in a tone reeking of disappointment in one of your best friends, “What? You don’t think so?” He quipped.

Your silence spoke for itself and he scoffed, “Well then you’re a fucking idiot.” Your voice, while not loud, cut through the air like a knife, “Hey. You do not speak to me like that.” You pointed your finger, straightening your back out. Next thing you know he’s pinning you down by your thighs, using this new leverage to lean into your face.

“What are you gonna do about it? Run and tell poor little orphan Ollie?” He nodded, silently coaxing an answer from you. “You’re being mean Farleigh.” You whisper, showing weakness for a moment not even thinking about the fact your friend doesn’t ever touch you like this. Somehow, it’s the least of your worries.

With a heaving chest he looks down at your lips, focusing in on them as they draw into a tight line with the silence. “I wouldn’t be so mean if you hadn’t been,” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “…misbehaving.” You lost the ability to breathe for a moment, suddenly forced to face the lines that were most definitely being crossed. This was uncharted territory for the both of you.

One hand came up to your face, pressing his thumb lightly into the center of your chin making sure to slowly bring it up and gauge your reaction. His knuckle hooked over your bottom lip until the pad of his thumb grazed the wetness of your tongue. You closed your mouth around it instantly, earning a groan from the tall boy towering over you.

Swiftly he removed himself, pocketing his hands under your thighs and throwing your weight on top of his so you were open for him across the thick muscle of his leg. “You gonna be good for me?” You nodded, bracing yourself on his shoulders. “Yes, I am.” You said without hesitation, some new fire ignited you craved to fuel.

You were pulled by the nape of your neck to meet his lips in a fervent kiss pressing your whole body against his. Lips slid against each other as they danced in harmony, tongues exploring one another as you began grinding your hips against him hoping to relieve some of the pressure building in your core.

His free hand locked onto your hip to stall any movement as he pulled away from you, “Take it easy babe, just let me touch you.” You could’ve melted right there, his hand traveled up your nightgown and grazed over the seam on the side of your panties. “Oh really?” He sounded almost proud in his surprise at your lack of pants.

He explored further, reaching up to your right breast and grazing his nail against your nipple. Your hips stuttered involuntarily, amusement written on his face as he watched your face screw in pleasure. “F-fuck” Your voice cracked, feeling that stimulation go straight to your core.

“You gonna let me have a taste?” He pouted, twisting the nipple in between his fingers leaving you breathless and desperate for more. “Yes, fuck, please just put your mouth on me.” You whined, and Farleigh didn’t need to be asked twice. Your gown was ripped from your body leaving you in just a little pair of panties and nothing aside from your stark nakedness.

Of course, he had to take a moment to admire your body, so soft and beautiful, like unwrapping a gift he’s always yearned for. “Farleigh, please.” Your voice sounded pathetic almost, but you were worried if either one of you paused for too long you’d come to your senses and stop. And empty fear seeing as it would probably take an act of god to seperate the two of you at this moment.

“Shut up, I wanna see what you’ve been hiding from me all these years.” His hands explored practically every inch of you, his eyes grazing against your stomach, your breasts, you thighs. He couldn’t stop imagining what your hips might look like settled on top of his own, stuffed to the brim with his cock.

He couldn’t wait anymore, he unbuckled his silver and black belt, letting it hit the floor somewhere before jimmying them halfway off all with you in his lap. Now your sex was making indirect contact with a small sliver of his skin between his boxers and pants. “I’m gonna spend some time with these,” He began to explain, giving each breast a squeeze. “But you’re gonna get off on my thigh before I do anything else. Understand?” You nodded with confidence, hiding your dissapointment in him. All you wanted was for him to be inside you, tending to that most sensitive part of you and he was making you do it yourself.

But you could give him a show, make him so insatiable he’d have no choice but to turn you over and fuck you after seeing the way you grind into that muscle. “Yes, I understand. I’ll be good for you.” You cooed in your most sultry voice. It must’ve been an effective plan because his head dipped to tend to you almost instantly.

With lips and teeth scratching against the sensitive skin of your nipple, you felt like you were going crazy. You didn’t need to be reminded of you task because your hips did all the work for you at the feeling he provided. It was like your breasts had a direct line to your clit, making any friction against it double in intensity.

Your hips weren’t thrashing against him by any means but you were still racing to reach that high, something Farleigh helped along by bouncing his thigh against you. Farleigh switched breasts, leaving a free hand to guide your motions along him in frustration. “God I can’t wait to fuck you.” He humbled against your chest, “Been so good for me, haven’t you? My good girl.”

You barely registered the words, not that it would’ve changed anything. If being Farleigh’s good girl meant pleasure like this you didn’t care.

You were getting closer, mumbling harder as you threw your head back in pleasure. Farleigh could barely make out any of your words besides: fuck, please, so close; he guessed he didn’t need the details. He grabbed the middle fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side so your clit was bare and began to catch onto Farleigh’s boxers, creating a new devilish form of friction against that bundle of nerves.

“I’m gonna cum.” Your voice was light and broken. It had come embarrassingly fast but with Farleigh’s tongue flicking against the second most sensitive bundle of nerves, there was no way you could’ve helped it. No doubt it was boosting Farleigh’s ego, something that was far from necessary.

He lifted his head, keeping one hand aimed at the pleasure points on your chest, “Look at me. I wanna see that look in your eyes.” You sped up, keeping eyes contact with him as your jaw felt slack and that impossibly tight knot in your core finally broke, letting pleasure avalanche over your senses. Farleigh kept on you with that look of amusement at how quickly you came undone through his own manipulation.

You sadly clenched around nothing as your legs shook a bit and you slowly rode out the high, not wanting to keep the same pace now that you were so sensitive. Farleigh pulled you into another kiss, this one deeper but more sensual than before. There was no rush now, neither of was going anywhere.

“Fuck you’re never leaving this bed.” He confessed between kisses, promising you this wasn’t just a one-off thing. “Not until I’m finished with you.”

#farleigh start #farleigh smut #farleigh x reader #farleigh saltburn #farleigh catton #oliver x farleigh #farleigh imagine #farleigh #saltburn #oliver quick #felix catton

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emithecharmer · 1 year

Text

Sleepovers

Friends to lovers, mentions of reader being followed by a random dude, uhh fluff. Sorry for any mistakes <3

"Hey, I didn't think you were coming over tod-" Chan was cut off as you dove right into him, hugging his torso tightly.

"Did something happen?" He felt you start to shake and he immediately went into protective mode.

"What happened? Did someone hurt you?" You shook your head.

"Some dude was following me." He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to focus on you, and trying not to think about what he would do if he ever saw that man.

"Did he get close? Did he touch you?" He asked calmly, rubbing your back and spinning around in his studio chair, with you in his lap.

"No," You shook your head, "just scared me, so I came in here. The lady at the front desk recognized me." Of course she did, Chan had showed the front desk ladies your picture, and said if you ever walked in, no matter what they were doing, to let you through.

"Well, just stay here for a while, and I'll finish up as soon as I can, then we can go to the dorms, you can sleep over." You nodded.

"I'll give you a shirt to sleep in." He said, maneuvering you slightly so he could work with you still sitting on him.

"Y/n!" Jisung cheered as he saw you walk in, running over to give you a hug.

"Channie-hyung didn't say you were coming over today." He said, breaking the hug and walking away slowly, listening for your response.

"It was a spur-of-the-moment decision." You giggled, looking back at Chan and walking with Jisung to the kitchen.

"Awe, did he finally confess." Jisung asked, making you stumble.

"What?" Jisung could have passed it off if he tried, but instead he froze like a deer caught in headlights. Chan was out of range, so he couldn't hear, but Jisung was freaking out.

"Jisung, what?" Your voice was more firm.

"I need to learn to keep my mouth shut." Jisung told himself, straightening his back when Chan walked in. He immediately noticed something was wrong and chuckled nervously.

"What's wrong? You both look like you've seen a ghost."

"I haven't seen a ghost? Have you seen a ghost? You know who else hasn't seen a ghost? Hyunjin, Hyunjin hasn't, so I'm going to go see Hyunjin." Chan blinked as Jisung ran into Hyunjin's room before turning to you.

"What's his deal?" You shrugged silently, opting to open the fridge and start cooking a dinner for the boys.

"Huh."

Dinner was awkward, Changbin tried to lighten the mood, but it was hard when Chan was the only one who would reply. You guessed Jisung had told Hyunjin what he did, because every few seconds you would see his eyes go from you to Chan and back again.

"What's going on?" Chan asked as you both got into the bed. He watched as you hesitated, something you hadn't done since the very first time you'd slept in the same bed.

"Nothing, everything's good, bro." Chan snorted.

"Bro? Who are you?" He asked, but going quiet when you didn't reply.

"What's wrong, did Jisung say anything weird? Sometimes he does that-"

"Do you like me?"

"What do you mean? I adore you, you're one of my best friends?" He answered, but you could hear the waver in his voice.

"Right." You replied, your voice a higher pitch than normal.

You two laid in silence until Chan sighed.

"He told you didn't he."

"You do?" You asked, sitting up on your side, facing him.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. You can leave if you want, but let someone drive you home-"

He couldn't even finish his sentence before you were kissing him softly. He smiled into the kiss and when he pulled away he giggled a bit.

"So I'm guessing you like me too?" He asked.

"You guessed right." You smiled, kissing his cheek and the his lips once more.

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 5 months

Note

Last cbf soap thought (for now 😉)

Seeing each other dressed up for the first time. Maybe to a date, wedding, etc.

My thought is like in the movies when this is the first time the friends are seeing each other in a more than friends way 😍🥰 it generally sparks Jealousy, lust, and just kick starts the feels!!!

oh man yesss. Where they both realize "wait...i might be in love with my best friend."

Johnny doesn't knock when he enters your house. He's there so often he has a spare key so it's like he lives there anyway. You wouldn't know he was there if he hadn't called out to you because you were in the bathroom putting the finishing touches of your makeup on your face.

"Was thinking we could-what's going on?" His eyebrows knitted together as he takes in your face.

"I'm going on a date!" You beam at him but he doesn't smile back, in fact his face pulls into a scowl.

"A date?"

Jealousy immediately began to fester. A date? Like an actual date that might end up with a kiss on your lips that wasn't from him?

Your eyebrows knit together from his tone and you give him a look.

"Yeah? Matt asked me to dinner." You explained and his scowl grew worse.

"Matt?" He exclaimed. "He used to cheat off you in bio."

"I don't know what that has to do with anything."

It didn't have relevance but he was hoping that maybe it would deter you from the date. He was trying to come up with something bad about Matt to get you to not go on a date with him. What if you found out you really like him and then suddenly started dating him?

There was no way Johnny was going to stop being friends with you just because of Matt.

"He was dating one of The Mean Girls a couple months ago." He tried but you shrugged as you pushed past him to go to your room.

It was glaring red flag, he knew you knew that but for some reason you were being stubborn. Is he really going to be that much more fun that Johnny? He really doubted that...

"It's one date." You called out to him from behind your closed door as you got dressed. "And like a real date too."

Johnny huffed and crossed his arms. Were none of the outings you both had together enough? He could argue that they were dates...but you didn't see him like that and he wouldn't say that to you.

You opened the door and his face softened.

"How do I look?" You asked, hopeful for his answer but for a moment he couldn't think.

Fucking beautiful. Stunning. Like you deserve the world and everything good in it. There were no words to describe it other than the feeling of warmth.

Johnny was far too deep in love to answer you truthfully.

"If I said ugly would you stay?" He said seriously and you rolled your eyes.

"Seriously?"

"What if I wanted to hang out with you tonight?"

"We can after my date!"

Johnny went to protest but you began to push him down the stairs and towards the backdoor. He fought against you but you were adamant that he leave to the point that he almost felt a little hurt you were kicking him out of your house.

"Just go home! I'll text you when I get back and then we can do whatever you want." You told him, struggling to push him towards the door and scoffed.

"As if I'm gonna let him bring you back home. What if he asks to come inside?"

"John!"

"Fine!"

Johnny spent the next three hours sulking in his room at home. Between checking for your messages and ranting to himself about how stupid it was that you were going on a date with someone else, he was starting to worry why it was taking so long.

What the hell was going on?

"That's it." He huffed and called you, not caring if he would be interrupting your date.

"Hey..."

Oh no. He knew that tone. You've been crying.

"What happened?" He's already rushing to get back to your house as soon as possible.

"He didn't show."

Bastard. The next time Johnny sees him...it didn't matter. He just wanted to be with you right now and comfort you instead of think of the asshole who stood you up.

"I'll be there."

"Okay."

Before long Johnny was walking up to your bedroom. He knew where to find you, hidden underneath the covers of your bed clutching your bunny for comfort.

He didn't hesitate to lift the covers and crawl in with you. To anyone else this would look romantic but for you and Johnny this was just second nature. Both of you lost count of how many times you accidentally and purposefully shared a bed together.

When he found you in the dark, he pulled you close to his chest and gave you a firm squeeze.

"I'm sorry." He whispered and you let out a shaky breath.

"Thanks for coming back." You sniffled and he tightened his hold on you.

"Always, bonnie."

The two for you stayed silent for a while, just basking in the comfort of each other. Johnny couldn't feel happy that you date didn't go as planned even if he had been against it, not when you were so upset about it not happening at all.

Instead, he wanted to make you happier than Matt ever could.

"You wanna go get food somewhere?" He offered, pulling the blankets off yours heads. "Can eat in the car or I'll take you to a fancy restaurant."

You rolled over to look at him. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy as you stared at him with uncertainty while he gave you a soft smile.

It's not like it was the first time you two had ever eaten dinner together, but something about this felt different. Something about the way he was looking at you made your heart flutter and those pushed down feelings from when he kissed you last year came back.

Why would you ever want to go on a date with someone else when you loved Johnny?

"I'm a mess."

"I think you look pretty."

You scoffed and he chuckled, pulling you into his chest again. You buried your face in it, letting a few more tears fall before you took a deep breath.

"I don't care where we go."

You're just happy it's with him.

#childhood best friend!soap #AHHHHH #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #soap x reader #soap x you #slow burn #is burnin

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strawhatsoraya · 2 years

Note

Hi! you work is amazing, can i request a nsfw headcanon for Zoro, Law, Kid and Ace (i don't know what number of characters are your limit) being very sexual frustrated bc their partern doesn't want to have sex with them? They think there's something wrong with them as boyfriends but they're more calm after they overhears that S/O is just too nervous to do it due to how big are

Anon, I don't know how long it's been. I'm not gonna pretend to keep track of time anymore. I live in the Twilight Zone where everything is dated 2 weeks ago. I have taken your request and written the headcanons as little ficlets/drabbles. Thank you for the request!

If you were to tell the truth, you shouldn’t have drunk as much as you did.

If you were to tell the truth, you should be canoodling up to your boyfriend, thigh flushed against thigh, whispering lewd promises into his ear.

Instead, you were too busy avoiding the subject. Shame and embarrassment pulses through your veins, the same way the alcohol you gulped down your throat did. You’re thankful for the flush it brings to your cheeks. At least you can blame it on something other than yourself.

You felt his gaze on you all throughout dinner: hungry, starved, almost pleading.

There’s a dip at your stomach, one you can’t quite decipher–or you try not to. The truth was, your boyfriend was damn near irresistible. Wanting, or lack thereof, had never been the issue. The issue was that you–by all means–were a coward of a pirate. You never dreamed of the day you’d run away from a challenge but every time you came so close to giving in, to throwing caution to the wind, and everything be damned–if you split in half, then you’d split in half, and die in ecstasy–you always ended up running away.

You consider jumping ship–exposing yourself to the elements, or letting yourself fall into the depths of the ocean. Anything was preferable than openly admitting to your boyfriend your cowardice over what he might consider a trivial matter. Close to intoxication and close to tears, you turn to your best friend for advice.

Portgas D. Ace

He never thought he’d be lucky enough to be loved the way you love him. He never thought, not even in his wildest dreams, that he’d be allowed to love someone like you. You were always so warm, so kind, so easy to be around. Your laugh was the spark to light the fire in his heart day after day. He wanted nothing more than to return the favor, even if he felt he could never give you as much as you gave him.

He was never good with words. They always tumbled out of his mouth, in the wrong direction; too scratchy, too many sharp edges. He thought he was better with his hands. He wanted to show you how much he cared about you, how much he appreciated you–and how much he wanted you. Your body was soft, and pliable under his hot hands. Your kisses scattered goosebumps across his body every time. It seemed like you wanted him too, every time he’d grind against you while making out, every time his hands would grope your ass.

Yet you always stopped him before it got that far.

Ace slams his mug down on the table, beer sloshing over the mug’s lip and spilling over his hands. He bites down on his teeth, until his jaw hurts.

“This is ridiculous!” he hisses, eyes slightly unfocused as he glares across the table at Marco.

Marco in his infinitesimal amount of patience, casually throws back the remainder of his drink, tanned throat exposed. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, licking a corner of his lips where a drop of beer had collected.

Ace glares at Marco’s neck, wishing he could wrap his fingers around it and strangle him.

“How exactly am I ridiculous? What are you trying to say? Can you speak plainly for once?” Ace barks his questions–a metaphorical barrage of fists he tries to aim at Marco’s impudent face.

“I would,” Marco starts holding out his mug for it to be refilled. “If you’d let me get a word in. This is part of your problem.” Marco pauses, and raises a brow. Ace lights the tip of one index finger and contemplates tracing that questioning eyebrow to burn the hair right off. “You’re probably coming on way too strong.”

Ace groans. “Shut the fuck up,” he whines, as he leans over, elbows on the table. His face is hiding behind his unusually warm hands when your voice floats over to him; a siren at sea swimming in circles around his head.

“Honestly!” your voice is thin–embarrassed, and when he peeks through his fingers to look for you–he sees you quickly run a hand through your hair; a tell tale sign of your discomfort. “That’s not the case at all.”

There’s giggling at the table as the nurses crowd around you. He sees the redhead lean over, a mischievous grin on her face. “Aren’t you at least a little curious? You have been fooling around for months. It’s about time.”

You groan as you finish your drink–it was bright blue from where he sees it swirling in your glass. “Yes, but–” You cut yourself off to sigh before proceeding: “The problem isn’t that I don’t want to. I do,” you finish, cheeks aflame. “The problem is that...” You abandon your glass on the table to gesture with your hands, fingers splayed, a big space between your palms. “The problem is he’s–” your eyes grow wide. “So big!”

He is used to the heat of his own body–a sense of being under the sun even on the cloudiest day–but it still fears searing when your words finally sink in. A hook pulls at the pit of his stomach, threatening to bring him down, ship and all. He stands up abruptly. A drink spills, and he vaguely hears Marco saying something about decorum but he flips him off as he walks away.

All he can hear, and all he can see is you at that table, cheeks bright and your mouth that was too busy smiling at others instead of kissing him. Ace interrupts your little group talk, and you stand up stammering an excuse.

“I need to borrow y/n,” he says to the crowd, a big smile on his freckled face. “I saw a seagull and I need her to go look at it.”

It was the stupidest thing you had ever heard, but you still nod enthusiastically and allow him to lead you away. You’re in his familiar room aboard the ship, when you prepare to launch your interrogation. You don’t have time. He crashes his mouth against yours before you can speak. His hands are fiery as they travel up your back, underneath your shirt. As you gasp, he slips his soft tongue into your mouth, brushes it against yours. Suddenly, you’re pressed against the wall. He nips at your jaw, hot and wet kisses trailing behind him as he moves towards your neck. As he sucks on your pulse, so hard you are sure he’ll leave a mark behind, his hips start pressing into yours. You feel him hard under his pants, his cock teasing you; reminding you of what you had been so scared to face head on.

You moan when his hands slide away from your back and towards your chest. He kneads your breasts gently.

“If that’s what you’re so worried about,” he mumbles to the crook of your neck, pressing his hardened cock against your heated core. “You should have told me sooner.” He bites down on the soft flesh of your shoulder. You cry out, dig your nails into his back. He moans softly, hips never stopping. You feel yourself grow wetter every time he brushes against your sensitive nub just right.

“I’ll get you fired up enough,” he mumbles against your neck, licks up the column of it with the flat of his tongue. You feel the trail of saliva hot, then cold as the air hits it. There are goosebumps running across your body.

“You’re gonna be so wet,” he says almost in a whine against your ear. “Fitting me in won’t be a problem at all.” His breath is hot as his lips brush the shell of your ear, and his fingers even hotter as he slips one hand between your legs. He presses up against your dripping slit, pushing your panties into you. “Get ready, babe. Here I come.”

Eustass Kid

Kid was aware of his limitations. He was not gentle, or soft. He could not grasp tiny little pieces of metal between his index finger and his thumb. He also knew what he was good at. Your aversion to his tactics of seduction made him feel almost incompetent. Almost. Because he knew there was no way his skills had grown rusty, or tattered. He was damn good at it. He was sure, after all, because he could feel your slick coating his fingers when he’d rifle through your folds. You’d lay squirming, and panting underneath him, face flushed, neck and chest wearing matching splotches of pink and reds.

The way you’d moan his name as you’d cum around his fingers, was enough for him to know you liked it. You’d cling to his broad back, fingernails scratching down lines on his skin. You wanted him. He knew that much. Then why did you keep running away? You had come so close to letting him go all the way. He had been there, angry red tip literally at your dripping entrance, before you balked and called the whole thing off.

Kid was many things, but he knew when ‘stop’ meant stop.

It didn’t mean he was happy about it.

He couldn’t take it out on you, and someone had to pay–so he made the crew his targets. They were easy pickings, and it helped ease his mood slightly; very very slightly. His large feet clank down the corridor, Killer by his side mumbling softly about his attitude. Kid considers telling him to ease himself off the ship, or to suck his dick if he’s so inclined to be on it and all over his business when he hears your voice around the corner.

“No no,” your voice is insistent. He stops just around the corner, and peeks around even when he feels Killer’s hand on his shoulder. Kid shrugs him off. “I mean, he’s already so big, like generally speaking!” you enthuse in a loud whisper, which Eustass finds isn’t a whisper at all. “But when we kiss…” you trail off, and shift your weight on the spot. The sight of you, wiggling shyly, eyes downcast is enough to pull a crooked smile out of him. “And, well I’ve seen it and I don’t think it’ll fit. That’s all I’m saying.”

He tries not to laugh. He tries really hard, but the barking laughter comes out anyway. It echoes in the corridor as he stomps towards you. Your eyes grow wide, and before you can stammer a greeting, he is picking you up.

“Let’s go,” he says as he throws you over his shoulder. You squeak, face growing hotter. He raises a hand and brings it down on your ass, the sound of a resounding slap filling your ears. He walks awkwardly, his stiffened cock between his legs demanding attention. In his bedroom, he tosses you on the bed. Your hands go out as he climbs over you. You try to press them against his barrel chest. “I gotta tell you,” he mumbles against your cheek. His tongue is hot as he licks up your face. “I’m not a liar.”

You shiver underneath him, and rub your legs together. His voice is gravely, and it scratches over your skin. You feel your panties growing wet.

“So I can’t say I’ll be gentle,” he speaks into your hair, fingers grasping the fabric of your shirt. He pulls, and buttons tear and scatter–flying across the room. You gasp as your skin is exposed to the cool air, and to Eustass’ heated gaze. He looks as if he has been starved for days, and he would want nothing more than to devour you whole, bones and all. When he drags his eyes away from your heaving chest, he meets your gaze and it takes your breath away. Kid licks his lips. “Feel free to slap me or choke me if you need me to stop,” he drawls out of the corner of his crooked smile. “Although,” his smile grows slightly sinister, a smirk that makes your body grow cold and hot all at once. “I might be into that too.”

Trafalgar D. Law

He would sooner die than admit it. He would sooner bite his tongue, and choke on his blood than to admit the selfish side of him; how needy and desperate he can be for your touch, to feel satisfaction as he drowns inside you, buried to the hilt, just like he fantasizes about every night. Law would sooner die than to push you into doing something you're not comfortable with, and so he deals with his stiff little problem all on his own. For weeks, he furiously pumps his fist over his cock, neck strained, chest rising and falling as he tries to smother his own moans. No matter how vivid his imagination can be, no matter what scenario he can picture, it is never enough. His hand is too familiar; not soft enough, not warm enough, never wet enough no matter how many globs of spit he drops on the bulbous tip of his cock.

If he got into the habit of being honest with himself, Law would admit that honestly: he just wants to hear you fall apart as he pounds into you. He wants to see your tears cling to your curly lashes, and wants to see your bottom lip quiver as you struggle to take the full length of his cock.

He tries to reign in these thoughts as he swirls a gulp of whiskey around his mouth. He is embarrassingly at half mast under the table, Bepo chattering away at his elbow. His golden gaze takes in the shape of your shoulders from a distance. Penguin and Shachi are having a conversation about wanted posters, one they keep trying to enthusiastically drag him into. Law purposefully ignores them. Your face is enigmatic as you talk to Ikkaku and he strains his ears to hear you over his chatty crewmates.

“He’s scary,” you say, one palm slapping the table noisily. Your fingers are splayed, and your eyes wide. Law frowns at the sight and at your words. He doesn’t get to ponder over it further before the conversation starts up again.

Ikkaku scoffs at you, and shakes her head as she pours rum into your shot glass. “I can sympathize,” she begins, although she wears a frown. “But then, why are you two dating again? I know the captain can be a little intimidating.”

You shake your head furiously, hair moving with your actions.

“That’s not what I meaaann,” you whine, cheeks flushed bright. Law scoffs. You were a terrible drinker. He did not understand why you insisted on the habit. “He’s not scary like that. His…” You stop and press your lips together, trying to think of how to phrase it better. You use your hand and point upwards, imitating a gesture Law uses a lot, but suddenly you point the finger down to the table. Ikkaku’s eyes slowly follow your actions. “Little Law is the scary one!”

You tell her, you’ve felt it before, as you sat on his lap, tongues brushing hotly against one another. You had felt it, hot and thick against your core, when his mouth was busy sucking on your nipples, making you so wet you’d grind desperately against him–anything for a form of release.

Ikkaku shrugs and throws back a shot of rum.

“Can’t relate!” she declares without an ounce of sympathy. Your mouth twists in a grimace, and you bang a fist on the table, ready to fight for your case when a hand grasps your wrist.

You look up and follow the arm to see the face of its owner. Law is frowning down at you, ears bright red. You swallow thickly. He leans down until his mouth hovers around your ear.

“Come with me right now if you don’t want me to make your clothes disappear in front of everyone,” he mumbles. You gasp as he brushes his nose against the shell of your ear. His thumb brushes the soft inside of your wrist. “There are much scarier things about me than the size of my dick.”

You feel his free arm wrap around your waist and he pulls you up from the chair into a standing position. You spin around in his arms, and gasp when he pulls you against him. His cock is stiff against your soft belly. One of his hands keeps you pressed tight against him, sitting on the dip of your back. His other hand still holds your wrist, tightly against his own chest. His face swoops towards yours, so close you can smell the whiskey off his breath.

“Like my lack of patience. Please,” he enthuses in a slow hiss. His breath is warm against your mouth, as he brushes his lips against yours. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Roronoa Zoro

He has always been a man of discipline. He trains hard, and lives for battle. When he decided to become the strongest swordsman he gave himself up for a deadman and dead men don’t need or want.

At least, that’s what he tells himself at night, when you slip away from his body before he can smother the heat between you that consumes him by sliding inside your pussy.

Years by Luffy’s side had taught him patience and understanding. Still, he couldn’t understand you completely. He couldn’t understand why he could kiss you the way he kissed you–feverishly, as if he could taste you past your teeth and tongue. He couldn’t understand why he could touch you the way he did, how he’d slide his callused hands over your smooth skin, how you’d let him play with your nipples until you were whimpering under his touch, how you’d let him rub your clit until you were so wet he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you’d taste on his tongue. He especially couldn’t understand how happy you were to ride his thigh, to rub yourself on his muscle until you soaked right through his pants, or how sometimes that wasn’t enough for you and you’d straddle him, and rub against his hardened cock until you cried out his name. All of that but the moment he’d pump his cock, and lick his lips at the sight of your dripping pussy, you’d immediately press your hands against his lower belly to stop him.

You confuse him, and it infuriates him. He wants to understand you, and he wants to keep things simple. He wraps his lips around the mouth of the bottle of sake–a trusted, simple, and loyal friend. He takes a large swig, and then another as he sees Luffy, Chopper and Usopp doing some kind of cha cha line out of the corner of his eyes. Brook is singing a tune Zoro would rather not hear, and he leads the line enthusiastically laughing.

Franky and Robin sit together at the end of the table, their faces close together. Zoro blinks as he frowns, before drinking again. He sees Nami drag you towards Robin, and squeezes you in between her and Franky. Franky starts to protest but something you say makes him pause. Zoro feels his heart accelerate. He tries–concentrates–to shut out Luffy’s loud calls for more meat from Sanji, by leaning back on his chair. He closes his eyes, and crosses his arms over his chest.

He hears you pause, and it’s like he could feel your eyes on his skin–feel them rake over his arms and shoulders. You start to speak again, and suddenly, your little problem makes so much sense to him. You were scared of his size? Zoro tries not to smirk, and he stays still for so long he eventually does fall asleep. When he comes to, he catches you slipping away from dinner.

Zoro follows you quietly. He moves silently in your shadow, his gaze on you ravenous and seeking. You look so good from behind, he feels himself grow hard, stiffening in his underwear. He loves watching your hips sway, your juicy ass that stretches the fabric of your skirt. You reach the library, still not sensing him behind you. As you reach towards a bookshelf, a finger tracing the spine of an encyclopedic tome, Zoro slides up behind you. You gasp, startled at the sudden unexpected heat, but his fingers slide over the sides of your thighs and you immediately recognize the calluses.

You hum, and lean into his touch, as a warmth spreads throughout your body. “Zoro,” you breathe out with a trembling voice. “What are you doing here?”

He draws circles over your skin as he moves his hands forward towards the inside of your thighs. His breath tickles the nape of your neck. “What do you think?” he asks you. He takes in the scent of your soap, and drops a kiss with parted lips on the side of your neck. “Hunting you down since you’re a scared little rabbit.”

His mouth is hot and light against your skin as he drops feathery kisses over your exposed shoulders. “If you were so scared, you should have told me,” he mumbles against your shoulder, as he presses another kiss on the soft flesh there. His hands move slowly, up and down your inner thighs. His thumbs brush against your skin, each time higher towards the center of you. “Never pegged you for a coward,” he whispers against your ear. You tremble under his touch, the tip of his thumb brushing ever so slightly against your panties. You gasp, and spread your legs wider before you can stop yourself. “See?” he adds with a chuckle, one hand resting on the inside of your thigh to keep you from moving. His free hand moves to your clothed pussy. He rubs against it gently with his fingers. “I can be gentle. But only one time.” He nips at the top of your ear. You cry out in surprise as he adds pressure to his touch, rubbing over your panties on top of your clit. “Only this time.” You moan under his touch, and arch your back. You rest your head on his chest, and he nips at your exposed neck. You hear him groan against your ear when he sucks on your earlobe. “If you keep being like this, I’m not going to be able to go easy on you,” he tells you as you moan again. He feels your slick coating your panties, and it stays on his fingertips as he traces the outline of your slit. He captures your bottom lip in an upside down kiss for a slow and noisy suck. When he releases it with a soft smack, he licks your lips. “And whose fault would that be?”

#one piece headcanons #one piece hcs #one piece smut #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #eustass kid smut #portgas d ace smut #eustass kid x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d law smut #zoro x reader #zoro smut #law smut #law x reader #kid x reader

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sluttywonwoo · 8 months

Text

instead of you [part twenty-six] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, angst, smut (mdni)

word count: 5.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

additional smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms

The silence that followed your admission was excruciating. You wished you knew what Minho was thinking. He was impossible to read, aside from the evident anger written all over his face. His body language didn’t give much away either. He was closed off, arms folded across his chest, chin raised just slightly.

“So who are you then?” he demanded, tone even despite being the exact opposite mere moments ago.

“What?”

“Who are you? Are you just some girl that Jisung is using?”

“What the fuck, no!”

“Why are you acting like that’s some outrageous possibility? I just found out you’ve been lying to everyone all summer!”

“I’ve been Jisung’s best friend for like four years now, I’m all over his Instagram! Felix came to visit us and we all hung out, there are pictures of that too. I can’t believe you’d think I’m some random person!”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not thinking completely rationally right now!” he spat. “Why the hell would Jisung lie about- why would he say he had a girlfriend if he didn’t?”

“It’s a long story,” you mumbled with a sigh. “But we really don’t have time to get into that right now. I came up here because I was supposed to bring you back to the room.”

Minho made a face. “What, why?”

“Your cousins called.”

The shift in his demeanor was immediate. He visibly perked up, but only briefly, before seeming to remember the conversation he was having. “Jeongin and Yoon?”

“Yeah. Everyone else is on FaceTime with them right now. I told everyone I’d come to get you so that none of them would have to miss out on talking to him,” you explained. “So we should probably get going because I don’t know how long he has to chat.”

“Fine,” Minho surrendered easily, “but we’re not done talking about this.”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” you sighed again, still feeling nauseous. With everything that had already happened, you knew there was no way that this could end well. But now, now that one person knew it was all a lie, you were fucked. “Just… don’t tell anyone, please?”

He pursed his lips but nodded. “You sure have a lot of secrets to keep track of, don’t you?”

It was meant to sting, and it did, but you didn’t let him see the crack in the glass.

“I could say the same for you.”

You slipped into your room as soon as you got back to the penthouse, not wanting to face any of the other Hans, especially not your best friend. You collapsed onto the bed with a muffled scream into your pillow.

You expected yourself to start crying, but the tears didn’t come. They wouldn’t come. The initial panic had been replaced with numbness. Apathy personified, you could feel it spreading from your heart out through your veins, creating a tingling sensation that reached the very tips of your fingers.

You had to tell Jisung, right? He’d understand… probably. You hadn’t told Minho. He figured it out on his own. Yeah, you should tell Jisung and then you could also come clean about… everything else. Maybe. But maybe you could also take it to your grave since it seemed like any possibility of you and Minho becoming an item, whatever that implied, was out of the question now. You knew he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. Not after tonight. You couldn’t erase his look of betrayal from your mind no matter how hard you tried.

Just how many people were you hurting by merely being on this trip? There was no way to know for sure, not that knowing would make you feel any less guilty.

Maybe it was better not to tell Jisung. Maybe you could pretend like everything was fine, and then it would be. But that was what had gotten you in trouble in the first place.

You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep until you woke up with a jolt some hours later. The room was dark. The lamp had been switched off and the blinds were shut. Jisung was snoring softly beside you. He was tucked under the covers while you were still laying on top of them.

You rolled over and felt for your phone, finding it underneath your pillow. You were surprised to see that you had missed a text from Minho. It was from an hour and a half ago and just said can you meet me in room 422?

You weren’t sure if he would still be waiting there since it had been so long since he sent the message, but you responded with a tentative sure and quietly snuck out of your bedroom. You hoped Jisung wouldn’t wake up before you returned. Having to explain where you were or why you were there would only complicate things. You still hadn’t decided whether or not to tell him… anything. You needed more time to think things through. At least, that’s the excuse you told yourself.

The fourth floor was eerily quiet, reminding you of how late it was. Stepping off the elevator into the hallway felt like a mistake, like you were trespassing on private property. Minho hadn’t replied to your text so you didn’t know if he was still awake, but you knocked at the door anyway. He answered after the second knock.

“There you are,” he said and stepped aside to let you in. He seemed to have cooled down, which was a good sign, but there was still tension lingering between you.

You slid by him, stopping in the entryway just past the door. The room he had summoned you to was just a plain hotel room. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the room and a desk in the corner, but not much else.

“You can sit wherever.”

You nodded in acknowledgment and perched yourself on the edge of the bed. Minho followed you but refrained from sitting, choosing to lean back against the dresser so that he could face you.

“Why’d you want to meet me here?” you asked.

“I, uh, thought that talking in my room back at the apartment would look kind of weird if anyone saw us,” he explained awkwardly, “and the walls are thin too.”

“Alright, you have a point,” you admitted with a shaky exhale. “Whose room is this?”

“It’s mine. I went down to the lobby and booked it for the night.”

Oh to have a K-pop-sized disposable income.

“Oh, right. Should have thought of that.” You swallowed thickly, trying still to appear calm, cool, and collected. “Well, what did you want to talk about?”

You realized that Minho hadn’t mentioned wanting to talk in his text. You were just assuming. But given the events of the night, you felt that it was a pretty safe assumption to make.

“I wanted to know why you and Jisung lied to everyone,” he took a brief pause before continuing, “and why I now have to lie to everyone too.”

You bit your tongue, stopping yourself before you could point out that he was already lying to everyone, and just nodded.

“So the thing is, when he told your parents he had a girlfriend, he did have a girlfriend. They broke up, like, less than a week after he told them that and I guess he was too embarrassed to break the news because they were so excited for him and had already invited her on the trip. Jisung figured that maybe he’d have another girlfriend by the time he actually had to go on the trip, but when the end of the semester rolled around and he didn’t, I kind of filled the vacancy because he asked me to.”

“But why?” Minho pressed. “Why was it so important for him to be dating someone?”

“I don’t know, actually. He told me that it was to make your parents happy because they were always bugging him about his dating life, but I thought there might have been another reason that he just wasn’t telling me.”

Minho hummed thoughtfully. “Mom and dad are pretty nosy about our lives, but I don’t know why he would feel pressured to be in a relationship.”

“I think he felt like he had something to prove,” you said, choosing your words carefully. You knew how rocky Jisung’s relationship with his older brother was, at least from what he told you. You didn’t want to give Minho anything he could hold against him. “You’re not going to say anything to your parents or Felix, are you?”

“No,” he answered immediately and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “That’s his prerogative, I suppose. I don’t want to start anything between us- it’s not my place to say anything, really.”

“Thank you.”

He let his arms drop to his sides but didn’t move from where he was standing. “So, there’s really nothing going on between you and Jisung?”

“No, I swear.”

“Even after spending all this time together on the trip?”

“Nope, we spend all of our time together anyway.”

“So are you… friends with benefits?” he asked.

“No. We’ve made out a few times, but it really just happens when we’re drunk. We never slept together.”

“But what about…” he trailed off, but you understood what he was talking about instantly.

“Oh, no! That was all fake. We just did that to sell it more, and sometimes to mess with you guys.”

“I knew there was no way he could be that good,” Minho whispered.

You chuckled but came to your friend’s defense. “He seems to do pretty well for himself. Girls usually call him back after staying over so he must be doing something right.”

“I can’t believe it was fake,” Minho mumbled, mostly to himself. “Sorry, I’m still processing this.”

“Take your time.”

You leaned back on the palms of your hands, feeling a little more relaxed now that you knew he didn’t hate you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked finally, letting the mask fall the tiniest bit. “After I kissed you the first time? Or when you kissed me back? This whole time I’ve felt like such an asshole for- for everything that happened.”

“I thought about it,” you admitted, “but Jisung and I agreed that it would stay between us. I’m sorry.”

“I get why you didn’t. I just wish it could have been different.”

“Me too,” you agreed.

Minho crossed over to the bed and sat down next to you.

“I’m sorry I went through your stuff.”

You threw your head back laughing. You hadn’t expected him to say that. “It’s fine. Honestly, it’s a relief not to have to keep up the act around you anymore.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Minho raised an eyebrow and grinned, making you shy away from his gaze.

You looked down at your lap.

“Because it was exhausting! I don’t know how to act.” It was a half-truth, and you suspected that he knew it.

“You had me fooled.”

You managed to look back up at him only to find him staring at your lips. This was not how you imagined this conversation going at all.

“Maybe I should change career paths then,” you choked out.

“Yeah, maybe.”

A few more beats of silence lapsed between you before Minho spoke again.

“All of this time we could have been doing this,” he murmured gently.

You scrunched your face up in confusion. “What’s ‘doing this’?”

He leaned forward and bridged the gap between you by pressing his lips to yours to answer your question. His hand came up to your hair instinctively, muscle memory, and brushed it out of your face before cupping your jaw. You melted into him like you had done too many times before, letting him trace the curves of your face with his thumb like he was trying to memorize it.

His palm was warm and you could feel the calluses on his hand against your cheek. You were the first to moan, any embarrassment long forgotten as you climbed onto his lap.

Minho accommodated your weight easily, hands immediately coming down to grab your ass. He allowed you to push him down so that he was lying flat on the bed with you straddling his waist.

Minho slipped his tongue into your mouth as the kiss intensified, teasing you with it. You whimpered when he pulled away, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. Minho just smirked and used the opportunity to flip you over so that he was on top.

Then his lips were back on you, brushing against your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. As soon as you felt his teeth graze your skin you pushed his head back and gave him a look. It was his turn to pout.

“You can’t leave marks, idiot.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he said apologetically, though the shit-eating grin on his face let you know that he didn’t mean it whatsoever. “Well, you can mark me up as much as you want.”

You rolled your eyes. “Lucky me.”

Minho ignored your comment and raised himself onto his hands, still hovering over you. He looked pretty, even in the dim, yellowy hotel room light. His lips were already a bit puffy, but he hadn’t even been kissing you for that long. You briefly wondered how they’d look after making out with your cunt, all swollen and glossy. You tried to squeeze your thighs together at the thought, legs closing around Minho’s hips instead. He seemed pleased at your eagerness and rewarded you with another kiss.

“Can I take your shirt off?” he asked when he came up for air. You nodded. “Here, lift up a little.”

You did as he asked so that he could work the t-shirt over your head, laughing when he tossed it on the floor.

“You weren’t wearing a bra?”

“I was about to go to sleep!”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Likely story.”

“No, you’re right. I came here in my pajamas fully intending to seduce you.”

“Well, it worked.”

“Of course it did. Men are so easy.”

He shook his head, tongue poking his cheek. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

You cocked your head to the side, fully aware that Minho had the physical upper hand. “We’ll see.”

As soon as the words left your mouth Minho’s hands were on your boobs, effectively shutting you up. He circled a thumb around each of your nipples, smirking when you gasped and arched your back.

“Barely even touching you and look how eager you are for me,” he mused.

“T-take your shirt off too.” It was meant to be a command, but it sounded more like a plea.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fine, since you asked so nicely.”

Minho reached behind his neck and yanked his t-shirt off, throwing it in the same general direction as he had thrown yours. You had seen Minho shirtless plenty of times before and you still couldn’t help but stare. His body looked like one of those statues you had seen in the Louvre, carved out of marble by one of the artists they named the Ninja Turtles after.

You reached out to touch his chest, running your fingertips along his pale skin.

“Can I take these off too?” Minho asked, playing with the hem of your sweats. He snapped the elastic band against your hip, making you flinch.

“Yes, please get them off of me, it’s hot,” you whined.

You were left in just your underwear beneath him. You were usually pretty confident with sexual partners, but with Minho you felt exposed, vulnerable. You felt the urge to cover yourself, even though he was looking at you like you were a star amongst the cosmos.

He repositioned himself lower in between your legs and before you could ask what he was doing, he pressed his tongue against your clothed cunt, licking a fat stripe between your folds.

You cried out in surprise, hips bucking into his face as a string of curses left your mouth.

Minho raised his head, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been imagining what you taste like for weeks. I just had to know.”

“It felt good,” you assured him, silently begging him to continue. “Was it what you hoped it would be?”

“Better. Can I please keep going?”

“God, yes.”

He placed a hand on either one of your thighs to hold you down as he buried his head in between your legs again. He teased you with his tongue over your panties, finding your clit in an impressively short amount of time. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing his head against you. He groaned, his grip on your thighs tightening as you pulled his hair.

“Please, need more,” you whined.

And Minho was all too willing to give you exactly that. Instead of taking the time to take your panties off, he just pulled them to the side so that he could have complete access to your pussy. He went back to work and you both moaned. His tongue was wet and warm and felt perfect on your clit. You frowned when he started moving lower, confused as to what he was doing until you felt his tongue working you open. No one had ever tongue-fucked you before and you thought you might cum from that alone.

Minho paused again to catch his breath. “Fuck, I knew you were wet, but I didn’t expect you to be this wet,” he rasped out.

“Sorry,” you hissed, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Who the fuck ever told you to apologize for being turned on?”

“N-no one.”

“Good, because it’s hot.”

You scoffed.

“Lay back down,” Minho said, nodding at you to punctuate his point.

You rolled your eyes at him but did as he said anyway. “You’re so bossy.”

“Do you want me to keep going or not?”

“Fine, fine. Sorry.”

“I fucking knew you were a brat,” he sneered.

“What gave it away?” you asked sweetly.

“Take a wild guess.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows again despite just being told to lie down. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Instead of answering, Minho hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed, making you lose your balance and yelp in surprise. You watched his shoulder muscles flex as he used his strength to push your hips down, preventing you from squirming. The sight was enough to make you want to squeeze your thighs together, but of course, Minho was stopping you from doing just that.

He pulled your panties off completely this time, apparently frustrated with the obstacle in his way. They joined the heap of clothes on the ground. You didn’t even need to look at them to know that they were ruined.

His mouth was back on you before you could get another word in, causing any snarky remark you’d been about to make dissolve into a moan. It was a little sloppy at first. He had yet to fully regain his bearings, but dove in headfirst anyway. Kisses against the crux of your thigh, nips at your hip bones. Teasing and experimental.

His touch didn’t have the practiced familiarity of a lover. Each movement was eager, exploratory. He was learning your body like he had all the time in the world, but you were growing impatient.

Your hands flew to his hair again as he finally laved his tongue over your clit. You suppressed your moans this time, remembering what he had said about the neighbors.

“Fuck, keep going,” you hissed, encouraging him to continue. “Please keep going.”

You could feel Minho smirking against your pussy, but you didn’t care. He could be as cocky as he wanted if he was going to make you feel this good.

It didn’t take much to get you to the edge. It had been a while since you’d gotten laid, and you had been wanting Minho for God knows how long… you would usually be embarrassed, not want to give a man a bigger ego than he already had, but you had a feeling Minho was trying to get you to cum before fucking you and you wanted him inside of you as quickly as possible. If anything, you were doing him a favor.

“C-close, Min. ‘M really close!”

You could barely make out the muffled “already?” that came from him between your legs, but you still rolled your eyes anyway, half-tempted to push his head away.

He guided two of his fingers inside of you, giving you something to clench around as you came. The intention behind the action is what did it. He clearly cared about your pleasure which was rare to find in a partner, especially when said partner was a man.

You came almost instantly, catching Minho off-guard as if “I’m close” hadn’t been warning enough. He must have taken it as an advanced notice rather than an immediate head’s up. He grunted in surprise as you bucked your hips up into his face, but recovered quickly, helping you ride out the orgasm until you relaxed back on the bed.

He lifted his head finally, grinning like he’d just won the lottery, and sucked your arousal off of his fingers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand shortly afterward.

“Good?” he asked.

“Really good,” you managed to choke out.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, take your pants off.”

Minho chuckled. “Should’ve known you’d only want me for my body.”

You pursed your lips but didn’t bother responding. You both knew that wasn’t true. Otherwise, why would you be risking everything just to fuck him?

Minho pushed himself off of the bed and shimmied out of his pants. As good as he looked in the gray sweats, you knew he would look even better with them off. And you were right. Even though he was still wearing his briefs, you could see the outline of his dick much more prominently. It made your mouth water and you sat up and shifted onto your knees to return the favor he had just given you.

Minho saw you reaching out for him but shook his head.

“I need to feel you,” he said, voice strained. “If that’s okay. I already almost came in my pants just from eating you out, I won’t last.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Not many men would admit to that.”

“Not many men would admit to getting off on making their partner feel good? You’re right.”

You watched as he picked his pants up off the floor and pulled a condom out of one of the pockets.

“Oh now you have a condom?” you teased.

“Look, I usually have them on me, I just didn’t that night,” he exclaimed in defense, the thin foil packet between his teeth. He ripped it open and pulled the rubber out, only pausing when you spoke again.

“You don’t keep them in your wallet, do you?”

“I do, but I change them out pretty often. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine.”

With that settled, he slipped out of his underwear and rolled the condom on with ease. He joined you on the bed a moment later. You laid back and waited for Minho to position himself.

“Wait-” you whispered suddenly, having been so in the moment that you had almost forgotten. “Are you clean?”

Minho let out a sigh of relief, probably having thought something was wrong. “Yeah, I got tested like two months ago.”

“But the other night with that girl-”

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I mean, I fully intended to, if I’m being honest. But I just… couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t get it up?”

“Something like that,” he sighed. “I probably should’ve asked this before going down on you, but you’re clean too, right?”

You nodded. “I get tested all the time and I haven’t had sex in a while.”

“That makes two of us.”

You looked at him expectantly. “You may… continue.”

“I’m surprised that didn’t immediately make my dick soft.”

“Oh, give me a break. My brain is still fuzzy from cumming.”

He snorted. “You’re welcome.”

“I can’t believe that didn’t immediately make me dry up.”

“I’m allowed to be cocky!” he protested. “I made you cum in, what, a minute flat?”

“It took longer than a minute!”

“I don’t know about that. I think we should check the replay.”

“You’re such a dork.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “And that must really turn you on. ‘Cause last time I checked you were dripping onto the sheets.”

“I-” you had nothing. You squeezed your thighs around Minho’s waist, trying to coax him inside of you. “Just stick it in already!”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he repeated.

You held onto his arms as he pushed himself in, sighing in relief at the fullness. He wasn’t the biggest you’d ever had, but he was still sizable. You had to take a second to adjust to the stretch before he could start to move. He fit perfectly, at least that’s what it felt like. You were positive he could tell how much you liked his cock from the way you unconsciously clenched around him, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care. If his ego inflated to the size of the moon after this, fuck it.

“Fuck, st-stop doing that,” Minho stuttered, pressing one of his hands against your hip to try and keep you still.

“I’m not doing anything!”

“You’re, God, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he hissed. “If you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh sorry, I didn’t even realize.”

You took a deep breath and willed your body to relax. It had been so long since you’d been properly fucked and you didn’t want it to be over before it even started.

“Are you good to keep going?” Minho asked once he’d regained some semblance of composure.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yeah, fuck please move.”

He leaned down to kiss you as he began to rock his hips into yours and you met him halfway. You could still taste yourself on his tongue, on his lips. He groaned into your mouth and nipped at your bottom lip when you pulled away.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he confessed, voice raspy.

Baby was new. And it made you whimper in response.

“So goddamn tight. It’s like your pussy was made for me.”

Did he say this to every girl he fucked? Because it sounded like a line, but it was working like a charm on you.

As if he realized he was rambling, he busied his mouth in other ways. He kissed your neck, careful not to leave marks, before moving down to the valley of your breasts where he continued his work. The way he lowered himself onto you pushed his cock in even deeper, something you didn’t think was possible.

His lips were warm. They were so warm. Each kiss felt like you were touching the sun. You could feel the heat against your skin even as he moved away, pressing kisses elsewhere.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Minho asked.

You hadn’t even realized that you had been smiling, or that he had stopped kissing you. He was going faster now too. You hadn’t noticed that either. You were far too gone, clearly.

“Feels good,” was as much as you could manage, but that seemed to satisfy Minho.

“Yeah? Have I fucked you dumb already?” he cooed condescendingly.

You nodded. “Feels sooo good. Feel so full.”

You’d be embarrassed by your barely-comprehensible sentences, but you didn’t have the capacity to feel anything other than pleasure in that moment. You doubted you’d even remember what you said in the morning.

“You close again, baby?”

“Uh huh.”

“Fuck, me too. I’ll get you there, though. I’ll make you feel even better.”

He brought one of his hands down to your clit and used his thumb to rub somewhat uncoordinated circles on it. He was gentler than he had been before, like he knew you were still sensitive from cumming the first time. The added stimulation brought you back to the edge in record time and all you could do to alert Minho of what was happening was frantically grab his bicep and squeeze it repeatedly.

“Gonna cum? Go ahead, baby.”

Your entire body tensed as your second orgasm of the night washed over you. Minho fucked you through it again, announcing that he was cumming right as you started to come down. Watching his face scrunch up in pleasure as he came was almost enough to send you into a third orgasm. His eyes shut and his mouth fell open into an O shape as his hips faltered. He didn’t stop thrusting until he was certain he’d given you every last drop of his cum, choking out a string of curses followed by your name through gritted teeth.

He collapsed on top of you seconds later, completely spent and still inside of you.

“Fuck, that was good,” he panted. You nodded in agreement, wincing when you felt him pull out. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can walk. My legs feel like jelly.”

“Would another orgasm help?”

“No,” you groaned. “I can’t take another one.”

“I was kidding. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and back to your room.”

“Nooo, I’m tired,” you whined.

“I know, I know,” he said softly, “but you can’t sleep here. Unless you want Jisung to find out?”

“Fine,” you mumbled. Your eyes were closed, but you could hear him moving around the hotel room. “Just give me like five minutes to nap.”

“You know I can’t do that.” When you opened your eyes he was wearing pants again and standing beside the bed waiting for you. “You need to shower. And pee. A UTI in the middle of vacation would really suck.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You knew that before sleeping with me.”

“Yeah, and I still did it anyway. Now, get up.”

“You’re so bossy,” you muttered under your breath, repeating the sentiment you had already voiced. Minho just chuckled and helped you to your feet.

“You seemed to like that earlier.”

“Yeah, when you were making me cum.”

“Well, I won’t be able to make you cum anymore if you contract an infection. So I have to be bossy or else you won’t listen.”

“Or else you won’t listen,” you mocked.

Minho grinned despite himself and shook his head at you. “We should’ve started doing this way sooner.”

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adelheidvonschicksal · 2 months

Text

⋆｡°✩ Do Roommates Sleep Together?

“We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but the delicate foundation you built cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt. “Do roommates sleep together too?”

Synopsis: Your relationship with Xavier is unconventional, skipping and trampling on the many proper steps society deems appropriate. It should take months to form the trust needed to sleep together, and it should take years for you to ask him to move in with you.

Yet, here you are, with more courage to ask him to live with you than to tell him you’re in love with him.

Content Warning: fluff, suggestive dialogue, pining, literal sleeping together, a lot of internal exposition, mild angst, hurt/comfort, acquaintances to friends to lovers, implied soulmate tomfoolery to justify the fast burn, small references to chapter 4 main story, Heartstring Symphony, Nighttime Stroll, Shooting Stars Myth, and Unit 602's Representative Phone Call, Xavier sucks at following the non-interference policy (he tried his best), female reader, 6.5k words, safe for work

A/N: First section before Warm Wishes/Dreams within Reach tender moments and second section after Close Feelings tender moment to give a better timeframe. This is going to be two parts with the second part NSFW.

“Do you want to hang out at my place?”

Your smile begins to flatten as Xavier stares at you from his doorway. There’s a listless energy radiating from him. It’s intimidating even if there’s no anger behind his hooded gaze, the kind of intimidation where you’re afraid he might not be listening to you or even wants to listen to you.

“This new scary movie came out. Tara was supposed to watch with me, but she had a last-minute thing to take care of,” you explain, watching as he yawns and wipes his eyes. “So, I thought that maybe you’d like to watch with me instead. Or, we can do something else. I got games. Monopoly, Phase 10, Kitty Cards.”

Xavier rubs at the back of his neck, refusing to meet your eye. “Are you sure you want it to be just the two of us?”

There are many things to be said about your relationship with Xavier. You’re work partners, neighbors in the same apartment complex, and you consider him your friend. It’s also true that your friendship is young despite the many hours at the arcade together and whatever stories your co-workers like to imagine, making your offer sound more like a date invitation than hanging out. It causes you to go tongue-tied as your innocent mistake blankets you.

“Oh, not in that way! I mean not that it would be a bad thing.” You start to lose your composure when you meet his gaze again. It’s not like you wouldn’t go on a date with him if given the opportunity. He’s tall, soft-spoken, and very handsome. It’s more surprising he doesn't have a girlfriend. “I was thinking it could be a good way to foster friendship between hunters. Yeah, that’s it!”

The truth was that you were looking for something to distract yourself ever since the incident at your grandmother’s house. Tara having to cancel bummed you out more than you wanted to admit, but you didn’t want him to agree because he felt sorry for you.

“I understand,” Xavier cuts in. “I’d be happy to join you…in an hour,” he finishes with another small yawn.

“Great!” you cheer. “See you soon.”

When you make it back to the elevator, you’re taken aback about how happy you are that he agreed. You thought you were simply happy not to have to be alone on your day off, but this was a different kind of satisfaction than when you invited Tara. It was a little strange but you ignored the thought and clicked the button to your floor.

When Xavier arrives, everything goes as planned. You spread out an array of snacks on the table in front of the sofa, which your selection seems to be approved by how quickly he opens the package of chips and hums to himself when he takes a bite.

“This is supposed to be super scary! I read you won’t sleep for days after,” you tell him, grabbing the remote to play the movie.

“For days? Sounds awful,” Xavier mentions between bites, making you chuckle.

“If you get scared, you always have me to protect you.”

“I’m more worried about you than me,” he mouths off. “You always look like a statue when I tell you scary stories.”

“Fake movies and stories based on real places are different!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he agrees on the surface. You’re not sure how you only make friends with people who love to tease you, but you make no mention of it as the movie finally reaches its opening sequence.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize this movie’s fear factor was greatly over exaggerated. There were monsters, sure, but also one too many jump scares and dark scenes that made it hard to tell what was happening. Fighting wanderers for a living did leave you a bit desensitized as well, you guess.

As you reach to fill in your boredom with more chips, you can’t help but notice how Xavier looks like he’s about to give out any second. His eyes are drooping and his head bobbing to the side. You lose count of how many times he forces his limp body straight and strains to watch the movie playing on the screen, one agonizingly slow blink at a time.

“I’m fine,” he says before you can bring up how tired he looks.

“It’s not a big deal, Xavier. This movie is pretty boring, so if you wanna call it a night, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings.” You don’t want him to leave yet but you don't want to keep him up either. Sighing, you’re frustrated the movie isn’t as exciting as you thought it would be, and it’s difficult to fight the disappointment from showing on your face.

And, well, Xavier…

“It’s alright. It’s honestly not bad, so—”

Xavier doesn’t even finish his sentence before his head hangs over. In hindsight, you start to realize that you must have woken him up earlier, explaining his prior passiveness.

You always wondered what he did on the days he wasn’t working. It should’ve been apparent to you that he spends most of his free time sleeping. No wonder his apartment was always so quiet during the day. You’re thankful he wasn’t actually annoyed at you earlier but guilty for interrupting his rest and decide to grab him a blanket.

You don’t notice him tilting to the side before you have the chance to get up. It’s quick after that. Without warning, he falls into you, his head brushing the side of your shoulder before he collapses on top of your lap.

The situation takes you by surprise, and the world churns to a slow stop. The sounds from the television fade into the background in favor of your heartbeat becoming the thing you’re most aware of when it registers that Xavier, a man you recently can call a friend, has fallen asleep in your lap. You have no idea what to do in a situation like this. It isn’t on purpose, so there’s no need to blow up, but you can’t allow this to continue.

So, you choose to wake him up.

“Xavier,” you call and rock his shoulder. You call his name again, a third time, and finally give up when he doesn’t budge by the fourth. “Would it be too mean to roll him off?” you wonder, grimacing as you imagine him hitting the floor. It would definitely be too mean.

Sighing, you gaze at his face nuzzled too comfortably against your thighs. Xavier looks so incredibly soft like this, bundled in an oversized Blanchi hoodie. It isn’t anything you’re not used to seeing him in. However, this is different. With his hair strewn across his temple and his face so at ease, it reminds you of a big fluffy bunny flopped over for an evening nap. Just like a cuddly bunny, you can’t resist petting him, brushing your fingers across his bangs to fix them. Your heart flutters as you confirm his hair is incredibly soft and his pale eyelashes longer than you ever noticed.

Not able to restrain yourself, you gently poke his cheek, marveling when it’s much chubbier than you imagined. It causes him to moan, his eyes twitching from the intrusion.

“Mm…what?” he groans out.

Swiftly, you pull your hand away, frightened he might have caught you.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” you stammer out, not the best of excuses; but in your defense, he caught you off-guard by waking up from something so small. When he doesn’t respond again, you quickly realize he’s still asleep. “Oh, he sleep talks!”

A mischievous wave washes over you from the new piece of information you acquired. Teasingly, you poke his cheek again, giggling when he shifts to hide his eyes from the light.

“Xavier, I have a question to ask you.” You slide your fingertips along his bangs once more. “Be honest. Are you Lumiere?”

Patiently, you wait for a response. However, nothing comes after several seconds. Just when you’re about to give up hope, you hear him muttering. You lean your head closer, hoping to hear him better.

“Red…” he mumbles.

You repeat after him. “Red?”

“Red…extra spicy.”

You blink at him, knitting your brows. “Extra spicy?”

Oh. The hot pot restaurant.

“Dreaming about food? That tracks.” You shrug. It was worth a shot. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

Choosing to leave him be, you’re about to sit back and continue the movie except you are interrupted by him mumbling again. This time, he whispers your name quietly under his breath causing your undivided attention to fall on him.

“Yes?” you ask.

Xavier sighs softly, peacefully.

“Come home…with me…”

There must be a world record for how fast someone can heat up, and you must have broken it. It’s like someone threw you directly into boiling oil and left you to burn in it. There’s no way you heard him correctly.

Did Xavier really ask you to come home…with him? Is he dreaming about you? If so, in what kind of dream? And why?

These are the questions stumping you. Sure, you consider him your friend, but when did he start to see you as someone close to him?

The more important question is why aren’t you doing anything about it? You aren’t angry about him whispering your name in his sleep nor offended, and it didn’t feel out of place to be close to him, like this, with his head resting in your lap and your hand in his hair. The moment becomes nicer and nicer—treasured—the more times you run it through your head, familiar even, like déjà vu.

There are too many variables for your brain to piece it all together in such a short amount of time. Praying for the tempest battering your emotional insides to reside, you resign yourself to your fate, allowing him to have his peace while your mind completely focuses on the words slipping from his dreams.

When Xavier begins to stir hours later, your movie is long finished, credits rolling as some dramatic music plays in the background. His eyes tighten then relax before he finally opens them, greeting you with hazy blue. He lifts himself into a stretch then rubs his eyes with his wrist. When he finally adjusts to his surroundings, he looks at you with an apologetic sulk.

“Did I…fall asleep on you?” he asks, grogginess still riding his voice.

“Literally or figuratively?” you ask as a joke, but it doesn’t seem to comfort him. Shaking your head, you try to ease the tension—the one known by him and the tension inside of yourself—by laughing. “It was both.”

Xavier blinks a few times, turns his head to the screen to see the credits rolling, and snaps his eyes back on you questioningly. “And you let me for two hours?”

“You looked really tired,” you explain, ignoring how hot your cheeks start to get. You couldn’t tell him you got distracted by his cute face. “I didn’t want to move and wake you.”

“I don’t wake that easily,” he states, proudly even. You almost tell him how well everyone knows he can sleep through a typhoon, but it’s drowned underneath the softness of his smile. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

The look he gives you is so tender, like looking at a fond memory. It brings back the fluttering knots in your stomach from before as you imagine what could be the true reason behind that gaze. What could he possibly be thinking in his waking moments that would make him dream about you?

“Xavier, do you know you talk in your sleep?” The confused and panicked, deer caught in headlights expression, he gives causes you to fidget with your fingers and drop your gaze to your lap where they lay.

His face tinges slightly. “Nothing too embarrassing I hope.”

You bite your bottom lip as his face reddens. He looks so sweetly shy for once, and you’re starting to question if you’re overreacting by confronting him about something as silly as a dream, one that probably didn’t mean much.

“You tried to order food in your sleep!” you tell him with a small laugh, and his shyness melts away.

“I did? What did I get?”

“Red sauce. Extra Spicy.”

“Then, I guess that’s what I’ll get for dinner tonight,” he remarks. He doesn’t laugh but you can see the amusement reflected in blue eyes, which makes you return his happiness. Yet, the calm moment is short-lived as your mind becomes overwhelmed again by questions you were too nervous to ask; and a small piece of you, too afraid to know the answer.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, drawing you out of your rampant, clashing thoughts. “You look sick.”

“I do?”

He nods, his expression softening.

”Are you still thinking about everything?" he pauses, his worry becoming more visible as he looks at you. "It must be difficult.” Your head blanks at his words. You weren’t aware Xavier gave you enough attention to notice your mood was different. You thought you did okay coming to terms with everything at least while at work to where he wouldn’t notice.

“It’s been a pretty rough week, weeks, actually. I haven’t been sleeping well either,” you agree, struggling to keep your mind anywhere else but there. You’re sure you must look exhausted though. Your under eyes have been darker, the days you could convince Jenna you didn’t need any more leave a bit sluggish, and even Zayne warned you not to lose yourself in grief. It’s easier said than done.

What you don’t expect is for Xavier to grab your wrist and pull you closer.

Xavier normally isn’t the one to draw you, or others for that matter, to him. You’re the one who's been taking the steps to get to know more about him. Offering to help him get his plushie, bargaining with him into becoming your partner, asking him to watch movies with you, while he always seems to keep you a little at arms length, not opening up as much as you wish when sharing stories even when sometimes he looks like he desperately wants to before deciding against it.

Your eyes widen when your nose hits the side of his chest. It's strange to have him be the one pulling, failing to keep his boundaries and also testing them. You don’t want to push him away though. You liked this. Maybe because he was handsome. You hear pretty people can get away with anything, but it feels like more than that. Tara might have been right. Maybe you do have a crush on him but you didn’t care the reason right now when it’s so comforting. You can feel his muscles underneath the thick, warm fabric of his hoodie, and the clothing smells so nice. You can’t help thinking he definitely feels like a bunny too.

“Sleeping is much better with someone.”

“How do you know?” you mumble against him.

“Well, I just had the best sleep I’ve had in days thanks to you. So, allow me to return the favor. I’ll be your pillow this time,” he offers; and surprisingly, your eyes do feel oddly heavy when his soothing voice reaches you. “Relax. I promise not to move for at least two hours, but you can take more if you like.”

”How kind,” you say with a smile, and it feels genuine.

Once again, you get the same familiar sensation from before, that same odd suspicion this has happened once before—or rather it’s supposed to happen? You’re too tired to think about it. You close your eyes to the most blissful dreams you’ve had in weeks.

When you wake up again, it’s not by choice. Xavier is looking down at you, his arm gently wrapped around your shoulders as your head lays on his chest. Your mind is still trapped halfway between being awake and asleep when he begins to talk.

“Welcome back. Did you sleep well?”

You nod. “Real well actually."

Xavier says something else but your tired mind misses the majority of it aside from the fact it’s getting late.

“You can spend the night if you want,” you tell him, allowing sleep to win back over as you try to close your eyes again, but he lifts you away from him, your head swaying with the motion until you find a place to prop your forehead on his shoulder. Your mind echoes with the thought of how soft his hoodie is and how you need one like it as you try to drift back off. Xavier is right. Sleeping with someone else is better, and this closeness you’ve been missing since you lost your family makes you needy.

“It probably wouldn’t be appropriate.”

For some reason, it hurts to think he's back to pushing you away. Even though, it shouldn't.

“But you didn’t get a chance to watch the movie,” you reply, looking for an excuse for him not to leave. “It’s a 48-hour rental, so we can try again.”

Xavier shakes his head, gently poking at your forehead to force your head back. “I’m sure it’ll be twice as boring for you the second time.”

“If we watch it together…”

He meets your foggy gaze apologetically. “I don’t think we’d get very far.”

“We won’t know until we try,” you argue drowsily.

“You don’t look like you’d make it another ten minutes. You belong in bed.”

“I can,” you whimper as the too-bright lights of the overhead fan hit you.

“Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result,” he murmurs softly, almost teasingly until his tone takes on a seriousness you’re too lethargic to grasp, “Isn’t that insanity?”

“I like to call it determination. Who knows? Maybe this will be the time it works,” you joke. Instead of the smile you expected the look on his face is pensive and a little sad, like you touched a delicate spot. The sudden remorse wakes you up almost immediately. “Xavier?”

When he realizes you’re watching him, the longing in his gaze melts into something you can’t describe, other than the fact it makes your heart climb in your throat.

“Alright,” he agrees, much to your surprise and relief. “Let’s try again…but tomorrow.”

Frowning, you avert your gaze, which makes him pet your head.

“Don’t pout. Tonight, I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

Maybe your grandma wouldn’t have liked you getting so close to a man you didn’t know much about so quickly. Caleb would at least have a few questions, but your intuition tells you that you’re making the right choice when his arm goes back around you. As you start to drift off, you can swear you hear Xavier laughing at you under his breath. “You’re as impossible to say no to as always.”

You’re not entirely sure what time Xavier went back to his apartment that night, but the next morning you wake in your bed, looking forward to seeing him again. You only hope the sweet and confusing fact that you’re in love with him, of the parts he shows you when you’re alone, stays in your dreams the next night and the many nights following that you share with him.

Over the months, as your relationship with Xavier grows stronger, you find it common to share many things with each other. You play online games, house sit for one another, grow strawberries, and usually go home together after your deepspace trials. Most interestingly, you two take naps together on your days off sometimes, nothing sexual about it despite what Tara and her Tarot cards believe. Sure, there might have been questionable situations, but it was all innocent in the end. It's often a short nap in the afternoon after running errands or having lunch together. It's one of those days that you finally build the courage to bring up what's been on your mind for a while now.

It's late when it happens.

The skyscraper lights begin to glow through your balcony door, blinking out the gentle shimmering of distant stars that managed to cut through the trickling rain earlier in the evening. It’s a little disappointing to lose sight of the stars. They’d become a comfort for you in the time you’ve spent with your friend. You'd never given them much thought before then.

The downpour of rain splattering against the glass panels of the balcony makes the city lights milkier to your sight and the steady dripping of water returns some form of calmness when paired with your neighbor’s breathing next to you.

It’s deep and warm, ushering you towards the world of dreams. Everything about Xavier is like a white noise or a desperately needed hug, which is why you’re curled up at his side in this bed that’s too small for the both of you. You didn’t care, and you suspected Xavier didn’t either.

He didn’t mention the smallness of the bed when you offered to take a nap together nor when your head found the bulge of his bicep to use as your pillow. You didn’t give him time to respond when one of your hands slid across his lean chest, reaching for his always subtle pulse. You find the lazy pattering easy to count while the heat in the sheets become much more apparent when you feel the weight of his touch cradle that very same hand to his chest as if promising every beat to you.

Everything about the situation causes your eyes to flutter with tiredness, but you want to savor this moment a little longer. In case this is all an elaborate dream. You hope to death it’s not. So, you force your eyes to remain open, releasing a soft sigh instead as you cuddle into his arm.

Too soon, you feel Xavier slipping further away from you.

You don’t want him to go yet. More than ever, a force inside you needs him to stay tonight, and you lock your grip on the white knit shirt he wears. You tug him back over to you to close this unbearable distance he made. The few little inches he moved were more than enough to cause your heart to yearn.

“Not yet,” you want to plead but make it a soft demand. “I just found the perfect spot.” You muffle the neediness of your requests into his skin, though your head is afraid that somehow he’ll feel it.

“You always use that excuse.”

“And it’s always true. So, no moving,” you order.

Xavier gives in so wonderfully quickly. Your heart is rapidly firing when the corners of his lips turn into his usual waif-like smile. You fail at hiding your satisfaction at his surrender, pressing more of your weight against him, in a sure sign to him that you have no intention of letting him escape any time soon.

“I take this to mean you’re finally admitting it’s your fault we didn’t do our errands today?”

“I never said that,” you disagree half-heartedly. “And don't pretend like you weren't the one who kept saying he didn't feel like getting up earlier.”

“And now that I do, you won’t let me up. Am I right? Why’s that?”

There’s a beat skipping in your chest when he asks. His tone is light and open, easy to treat as a teasing joke but also firm enough to be taken seriously. That was always your trouble with him. You could never quite tell what he was thinking and when he was serious. Xavier is hard to understand sometimes, sometimes vague and sometimes very straightforward in his words; and lately, you think he’s consistently more hot than cold towards you ever since the first time you've slept together.

You like to think this development is a good thing. People who knew you always said you worked a little too hard, a little too observant, overly energetic despite your fragile heart; but with Xavier, you could relax. Moments like these: when his arm was around you and when his breath was at the side of your neck, the soft words he speaks in his sleep dancing in your mind, were the moments when patrolling for wanderers and every loss in your life from your family to your problematic heart dissipated into the back of your mind for a few hours.

It isn’t an exaggeration to believe his influence must have been the cause, at least when it comes to this. But your influence is seeping into him as well. Given his loner habits when you first met and his frequent disappearing acts, you never pictured him as one to be so sweet and considerate and adorably charming in a way.

However, you can’t tell him that you enjoy…sleeping with him. You have a strong feeling he already knows how much you like him. Or, you’d like to think he does with the way he constantly seems to hint at it. He can make you flustered with a few words and easily leave you guessing if you’re reading too much into his actions or if he’s really that good at baiting you. It could also be a little of column A and a little of column B, which somehow makes you more antsy around him. Like how you feel now when his eyes meet yours.

“It’s supposed to be cold tonight,” you whisper. It’s a poor excuse but the only one you can use to defend yourself. “They say the best way to fend off the chill is body heat. Who better for that task than you, dear partner?”

“Many things, I assume, a portable heater comes to mind,” he says, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s slyly teasing you behind that naive tone.

“Right, right, those things,” you grumble causing him to laugh as you hide your bashful face against him. “So loud, you know?”

“Are they? Alright, then five more minutes should be doable,” he says in the same low voice that makes your insides boil before his arm lowers to curl around your back. “Although, you’re too comfortable.”

His ears tinge in a lovely rose-colored blush, and you shudder when he finally fails to maintain eye contact and quickly scans your body. It’s slow enough for you to catch though. It makes your chest tight as you watch his quiet inhale and the murky flash of want dye his eyes shades darker before they fade back into clear pools of blue, big and pleading as he studies your face.

“I might end up falling asleep here.”

It’s a warning, to make you think about the meaning of your actions, you think. However, this isn’t the first time this has happened nor the first time you spent a rainy day inside with each other; the kitchen counter lined with empty take-out trays, with his body heat radiating into you while a long-forgotten movie plays in the background.

It’ll continue like that until one of you is finally coherent enough after drowsy naps to try to piece together who fell asleep on whom first or who is making the other too hot. Neither of you wants to accept the fault without a lot of bickering; that’s if Xavier doesn’t fall back asleep mid-debate.

Even this time, you’re not sure who managed to drift off to sleep first earlier but neither of you tried to get up, let alone leave the house, until now. Ah, but it was your idea to use the bed this time, wasn’t it?

But it was his choice to agree.

Even now, he looks very peaceful nestled with you, and he still whispers your name in his sleep sometimes, which reminds you of the first time you slept together and he dreamt about wanting you to come home with him.

When you’re like this, you want the same thing. You want him to come home…with you.

“Xavier?” you ask quietly. You wonder if he’s fallen asleep already like he said. Carefully, you free your hand from his hold, slide it up his chest, and begin to draw smooth circles with your pointer finger once you reach his cheek. There’s a soft response from him, barely a moan but it’s enough to know he’s not out of it yet, at least not completely. “I’ve been thinking.”

The air is suddenly stifling when he engulfs the top of your hand with his own, holding it tighter as if he’s upset that you moved it out of his grasp in the first place, but it’s not the case as he affectionately seals your palm against his cheek.

“About what?”

The look he gives you makes it hard not to stumble over your thoughts like a schoolgirl despite being very much an adult.

“Wouldn’t…” You pause to steady your voice; you have to force yourself to not avoid his gaze, but each small movement makes your throat tighten. There’s no doubt you have his full attention now, at least what little remains of it. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we…move in together?”

You’re not sure where the courage to ask him a question like that comes from when you’re too unsure to even confess or to ask what the two of you even are but you didn’t have this fear of rejection until now.

“How would it be easier?”

“Well,” you start, unsure why you’re surprised that he’d want a reason. “We’re always visiting one another, and you made me your representative at the tenant meetings, so everyone already treats us like we’re a combined unit. It would also save me trips on watering your plants when you’re away or when you want to come over to eat. We could save money. Money that could be spent at the arcade or on more hot pot.”

There’s a quiet atmosphere that makes you too uneasy. The thrumming of rain grows louder in it along with the beating in your chest that’s telling you that this was stupid. Is it possible to be drunk on endorphins? Perhaps that’s what gave you the idea to ask something so foolish; you’d have to get Zayne to examine your empty head and tell you.

But then, Xavier smiles.

“Those are good reasons especially more hot pot, and I’m sure all the plushies would feel better if they shared a home again.”

Your anxiety lessens and you share in his smile. Luckily, you managed not to ruin everything it looks like.

“But.” Slowly, the inklings of self-doubt begin to return. A but. There’s always one of those. You should’ve expected as much. “If we move in together then we wouldn’t really be “neighbors” anymore.”

“Oh, um—” You become staggered by his observation, even more so when he interlocks your fingers. It’s another time when you’re not entirely sure if he’s being serious or not. His innocent puppy-eyed expression doesn’t help you differentiate either. It always makes your mind wander to more inappropriate topics—like the fact Xavier told you he didn’t believe that other neighbors acted like you two. The memory nearly makes you squirm. In this position, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but that delicate foundation cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt.

“Do roommates sleep together too?”

There’s a shine of amusement that makes his face glow and heat claw higher up your neck. You know the question should be taken literally but when he words it like that…with that warm implicative inflection to his voice, you’re unable to think properly, and you realize that maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt this time.

“I’m sure some do,” you answer with some courage, “I’d imagine at least once a week.”

“I believe we’re up to twice a week now. So, if we become roommates, I think we have to do it at least that many times, otherwise I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your offer.”

“Two times?” you repeat, silently begging the flapping of butterflies in your stomach to calm down at the suggestion, at the implication that he enjoys sleeping with you just as much as you do with him. It makes this strong emotion in your chest blossom even further. “I can manage that.”

“Additional proposal,” he interrupts suddenly. “Perhaps, three times? I can even throw in a pair of those fuzzy socks that I can never manage to find after you visit,” he adds coyly.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re around your apartment somewhere,” you quickly respond before releasing the buildup of nervous air in your lungs. You smile. “Proposal accepted. Shared naps three times a week minimum.”

“In that case,” he breathes in softly, and he slips his hand down releasing all your fingers except for your pinky that he wraps into his own. “I think I would like to be your roommate.”

Inside, there’s unadulterated joy beginning to flood you. You know that this agreement will require a more in-depth discussion that Xavier will probably try to gloss over but this is enough for you right now.

“We should take tonight to practice for our move.”

Confused, you raise your eyebrows. “Practice?”

He nods.

“Sleeping together overnight. We did a few times before, well, only twice in the same bed, once in yours and once in mine,” he explains. You definitely have the clearest memory of that time, of bandaging his wounds, of cluelessly pinning him down shirtless on his bed before he turned the tables on you, and then—you remind yourself to resist going over the details, not with him this close to you. Somehow, Xavier is the one who looks the most insecure between the two of you. Finally, he whispers, “I haven’t forgotten even if it was a long time ago.”

His eyes are half-lidded, cloudy with thought. Something about him looks restrained and longing but it disappears when you finally swallow your swelling emotions and call out his name. There’s a twinkle of adoration that blows away whatever doubt there as he focuses on you again.

“I think about it when I have a hard time sleeping on overnight missions.” Xavier turns and slides his arm from under your head, choosing to lay on his side to face you. “It makes it a lot easier to rest in the hunting zones when you have good memories like that. So, it's nice to have a chance to make more."

“I don’t think I could fall asleep at all if I thought of something like that,” you admit, as close to an admission of your love for him as you could muster without mountains of alcohol. “I’d just think about how much I’d rather be home with them.”

“And now? Are you having trouble sleeping?” he asks huskily, and you have to fight not to keep staring at his lips and the dire need to kiss them as you breathe each other in. You reach out, touching his bare collar then instinctively searching for his slow pulse, counting it to calm yourself from the rush of adrenaline building in you.

You’re not even sure when you breathed out the “yes” that echoes softly from your mouth. His lips are so close to yours that you’re sure he could catch it in his breath if he wanted.

“How about I tell you a story to help you fall asleep?” He sees your hesitation and laughs under his breath. “I promise it’ll be much better than the last one.”

Accepting his offer, you agree to listen to him.

Xavier nods and gently swoops the back of his hand against your forehead and then your cheek before cupping it. There’s a gentle squeeze, and you think you understand why he likes it so much when you do it.

“Once, there was a beautiful queen and a knight,” he begins. “They lived together in a palace far away.”

“And they fall in love and live happily ever after?” you question, too busy in the full and fuzzy sensations filling your being to hold back.

“No, they were separated from each other for a long time,” Xavier corrects but his expression softens at the trickling concern building on your face. “Don’t worry. They meet again and become neighbors.”

“And then?”

“They become roommates,” he states matter-of-factly, which causes you to chuckle at him. You can’t even be bothered to care that he’s poking fun at you.

“Then, happily ever after?”

“I don’t know yet,” he answers, causing you to frown and your face to wrinkle with a sullen expression. His head tilts further into the plush of the pillow. “But you can help me figure out the ending.”

Feeling exhausted from the cathartic flow of emotions from him to you, you wiggle into him and throw your arm across his waist. “There’d probably be a lot of naps and stargazing involved,” you mumble before a tiny yawn.

“Sounds like a happy ending to me. It's good to finally see it,” he agrees, and you sigh when you feel a strong squeeze around your waist. “Although, you forgot to mention the part where the queen promises to not get out of bed without waking him this time.”

You giggle. “She promises not to get up without her knight.”

Content, he hums. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"I think so after a story like that," you confess, reaching out to brush his hair back so you can see his eyes more clearly. "Then again, I always sleep good with you."

"You’ll sleep best when we're close, right?"

You gasp when he shifts on top of you. His lips briefly brush your forehead, by accident or not, you can’t tell as he pins you between himself and the bed. With a stutter, you call out his name yet he pays no heed as he nuzzles his head into your hair.

“Good night, roommate.”

“Xav-!” You pout when he instantly slumps against you. There’s no point trying to wake him up now that his five minutes of alertness have long expired.

Settling your chin against the top of his shoulder, you hook your arms under his to hug him against your chest. Your forearms settle at his mid-back as you hold him close so you can gently brush the ends of his hair.

When you ultimately decide to give in minutes after him, it’s to the warmth of his weight on top of you, the tickle of his hair against your forehead, and the increased pulsing of his heart. Xavier was right, this is too comfortable. Letting your eyes fall close, you wonder if three times a week would really be enough to satisfy this strangely familiar craving. You only wish that the two of you could meet in your dreams like he says, but it's enough knowing you'll have each other in the morning and then on.

“…Good night, Xavier. Sweet dreams,” you whisper before you too give into sleep’s spell.

#xavier x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #xavier fluff #xavier

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knitmeapony · 11 months

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Look, I'm probably going to get a lot of shit for this but this show was all about breaking cycles.

Rebecca could have become another wealthy owner, utterly embittered, much more interested in hurting those around them to keep themselves up than to actually finding any happiness in the world. Instead she became her own person, found several families, embraced them all, and gave back in a way that helped most of them.

Nate could have learned that lashing out and repression were at least an outlet for his frustrations, he could have followed in Rupert's footsteps and become a miserable jackass. Instead by accepting the kindness and Grace of other people he started over, found love, and came home.

Keeley could have become a lot like her friend, never recognizing her inherent talents, slowly panicking as she aged, abandoned by the Machine by the time she was 30. She could have seen other women as enemies or at least combatants, but instead she found better friendship and mentorship and began to pass it on to others as she bettered her own life.

Roy's endless cycle of rage and hurting himself and pushing himself too hard to return could have literally killed him. He could have been like any number of Aging athletes whose life ends at 35. Instead he has a new career in a place that he loves, and he is finding ways to improve his mental health and open up.

Jamie could have been just another celebrity douchebag, possibly even sinking into the alcoholism that was taking his father. Just as much as keely, he was often seen as only as good as his physical fitness and his body, but he went back and read the books, he learned tactics, he learned to accept help and to give help and he became 10 times the man and 10 times the player that he was at the beginning. his career could have flamed out young but he got his second chance and he gave his father a second chance in turn.

And Ted, oh god Ted. his father made the ultimate selfish choice. He decided if he couldn't be perfect and he couldn't be everything he would be nothing. He would rather absent himself from his son's life then be there for him in whatever ways he could. Ted could have been happy in england. Ted could have had an incredible career. But Henry would not have had a father. How many times did people remind us that parents are responsible for the ways they fuck up their children during this show? Every other fucking episode, another way to point out that there are cycles of failure and frustration and psychological damage that get passed down from generation to generation. He broke that cycle, over and over. He didn't pin Michelle down into an unhappy marriage. They split up, and were both happier for it. He chose to put his son first, to not abandon him. He can have an incredible career anywhere in the world with a season like that. But he can't be in Henry's life the way he wants to be from six time zones away.

This isn't denigrating people who by necessity are long distance parents. But I would be willing to bet that if you asked any of those long distance parents if, given the choice, they would move back to be close to their kids? I'm willing to bet you pretty much every single one of them would say fuck yes, I want to hug them in the morning and tuck them in bed at night. I want to go to their soccer games and see their art shows.

Ted chose to be sincerely and honestly present in Henry's life. I don't think he's getting back with Michelle, he's not going back for a marriage. He's going home to be a father and I think his father would be proud.

#ted lasso

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fbfh · 10 months

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busy busy busy (but never too busy for you) - dad!tony + stark!reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: dad!tony + (gn) stark!reader

genre: minor hurt/mostly comfort

warnings: needing to spend time with your parent, crying, emotional comfort, if you have daddy issues this one's gonna hurt lol

summary: after traveling with your dad on business, you find yourself missing spending time with him. Tony can't have that, of course.

song rec: walking the wire - imagine dragons

a/n: first fic finished post top surgery!!!!!!! the next few weeks posts will probs be shorter until I finish chapter 1 of the next multichapter fic lol. Also if I didn't say it recently I love you guys, thank you so much for all your love and support <333 PS if you need more personalized dad!tony.... character.ai works well for that lmao

tags @afidiofobia @lizziebitch33 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @dustyinkpages @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @liberty-barnes @followingthefanfiction @youkissedareaderinthedark @girlfriendwhoseawitch @mrscarolscaramoucheplease

You climb into the car, settling into the plush leather seat as Happy closes the door next to you. You set down your bag and try to get your seatbelt buckled while your dad sits next to you, wrapping up a phone call.

“No, no. I don’t care. I said-” He stops, listening to someone on the other end for a moment. He’s clearly annoyed. He’s had to deal with people simultaneously trying to kiss his ass and tell him what to do all week, and you can tell he’s getting tired of it.

“Throw as many conferences as you want, they’ll all be Stark-less. Throw a whole party, while you’re at it- you know what? No, don’t do that. I might actually show up to that.” He mutters the last part, something that would normally make you laugh. He glances over at you, but you’re still fussing with your seatbelt.

“Alright, how about this. I’ll refer you to Stark Industries CEO, Pepper Potts.” The person on the other end is already objecting, but your dad couldn’t care less at this point. He’s said what he needed to say, and this idiot doesn’t want to listen. He continues to wrap up this disastrous phone call as the car pulls into the street, and starts driving you to the airport.

“She’ll help you get this sorted out.”

He hangs up without saying goodbye, then looks over at you. As soon as he does, he knows something’s wrong. You’re not yourself. You’re staring at the bottom of the seat in front of you instead of out the window, or going on your phone. Usually you can’t wait for him to finish business calls, sometimes texting him in the middle of them - texts he’s always happy to receive. You’ve rescued him from pointless conference calls with those texts more times than he can count. You always have something to tell him or update him on, whether that be the latest social media drama, friend group drama, the show you’re watching on Netflix, or even Avengers memes you find online. You always have something delightful you’re excited to share with him without even having to try, and it lights up his day each time. Except now, with you staring into space.

He hands you the coffee he got you, taking his out of the cardboard holder that had been resting on his lap until now. You look over briefly, accepting the drink.

“Thanks,” you say lightly, but there’s something in your tone that tips him off.

“You okay, kid?”

You pause sipping your drink, wondering how he figured you out so fast. He’s your dad, you suppose. That’s kind of his job. You thought you’d been doing an okay job at masking the hollow sadness that’s been eroding you from the inside out all weekend. It doesn’t happen too often, and you tried everything you could to distract yourself until it stopped working. Until now.

“Is it school? Boys? Girls?” He asks when you don’t answer right away. There’s a note of humor to his voice, but there’s also a sincerity, and you know that even if it was school or boys or girls that he would help you through it. “C’mon, you gotta keep your old man up to date on all the tea. The hot goss.”

You let out a weepy chuckle, tracing the lid of your drink. He’s always the first to know when your Starbucks order changes, and he always knows exactly the perfect drink to get you without even having to ask. It’s a little thing, but it makes you feel even worse. You’ve spent the whole weekend trying to ignore how much you’ve been missing your dad, missing spending one on one time with him that’s not in between meetings or over a late dinner. He works so hard, and he has so much on his plate, but he always makes time for you.

That’s why he started taking you along on business trips like this, because you both hated being away from each other. Usually it’s fine, usually you’re off exploring whatever city you’re in, going shopping, or generally finding somewhat entertaining ways to pass the time that you can tell him about next time you catch up. It’s usually really fun, too. It’s just when it gets busy like this, you think, when he has all these meetings and you have all your stuff that you’re juggling that you start to get like this.

“No, no,” you say softly, rubbing the bottom of your eyes when they start to get misty. “Nothing like that…”

Tony listens intently in the silence that follows, waiting to see if you have more to share with him. The smell of his cologne is paternal and comforting, a familiar reassurance that floats around him and feels like a hug.

“I just miss you, I guess…” you start, speaking your mind before you can even think. Your dad has that effect on you, it’s so easy to share how you feel and what you’re excited for or worried about that it feels automatic sometimes, like it’s impossible not to. Tony feels his heart break as he realizes what a toll all the recent traveling has taken on you, both of you. He pulls you in for a tight hug. You feel the tears you’ve been fighting start to spill, Tony rubs your back reassuringly and it finally feels safe enough to.

He tries not to dwell on the fact that you got to feel like this in the first place, tries not to let that voice tell him he should have noticed how you felt sooner, that he’s a terrible dad, because he knows inside that he’s not. He’s not his father, and he sure as hell won’t make those mistakes. He could let himself worry about how he’s doing with you, let it keep him up at night - hell, it still does some nights, even when he doesn’t want it to. It’s been that way with you since he became your dad. Instead of worrying about that, he does what he does best. He takes action.

“You are such a sweet kid.” He states, pressing a kiss on your forehead when you pull away. He brushes away the tears spilling down your cheeks. “Unfortunately, sometimes being a genius-billionaire-superhero-superdad requires some meetings and boring stuff. But don’t think I forgot about the most important part of that.”

The dad part. He doesn’t even have to say it, you both know that’s where he’s going with this. You nod along, sighing as your breathing starts to slow back down.

“But you’re right. It has gotten to be too much lately.”

He reaches into the small mini fridge sitting between the driver’s and passenger seats, crisply cold and stocked with both your favorite drinks. He grabs a water bottle, opening it and handing it to you.

“How about this? We’ll spend the whole plane ride back watching movies together - or that show you were telling me about, the one with- god, what’s his name…” He tries to remember the name of that actor you’ve been talking about the last few days, and you chuckle, supplying the answer. He snaps his fingers in recognition, repeating it back to you.

“Yes. That’s the one. We’ll watch all those movies, and you brainstorm what we’re going to do this weekend. Dream big, kid. I’ll have Pepper help you organize the whole thing.”

Your eyes widen in excitement, and you hug him tightly again.

“Thanks, dad.” You smile. You really are both long overdue for some quality time together, and Tony knows if he has to attend one more meeting, he’s going to lose his mind. The cave he built his first arc reactor in was more interesting than some of the people he’s spoken to recently.

“I love you, kid.”

He looks at you fondly for a moment, basking in pride at what a wonderful, amazing person you’ve become. It’s not time for him to get all sappy on you with the dad stuff, not quite yet, so before he can, he grabs a fluffy throw blanket and spreads it across you.

“Now, we’ve got a big weekend ahead of us, so get some shut eye. I’ll wake you when we get to the airport.”

Right before you start to doze off, you hear him on the phone with Pepper, filling her in on the plan.

“Alright, so they’ve got about 25 more minutes of Stark business time, then I’m off the grid till monday.” Pepper says something about how they’re not going to like that, and Tony laughs, glancing over at you sleeping peacefully. “They don’t have to.”

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