#the only reason why I complain about the job sometimes

[twistedappletree]

🙃

[angelsforthenight]

MRS. AND MRS. SMITH — abby anderson x fem!reader

ways you can help gaza 🇵🇸

do not buy tlou2 remastered!

a/n: this is way more inspired by the mr and mrs smith series (2024) not the 2005 one!!! this explains why they’re wives :3

you’re an assassin along with your assigned partner/wife, abby anderson. fed up with her toxic behaviour, you’re pleased when the mission is centred around you seducing a man for murderous motives. why? well, because you know it’ll get under abby’s skin. little did you know, things would blow over way more than you thought it would.

cw: mdni, owen feature🤮🤮, long fic, kinda slow-burn ig?, femme fatale, arranged marriage couple, kinda toxic relationship, violence, mention of blades, car sex, mean!abby, bratty!reader, dom!abby, degrading, bdsm, ass-smacking, finger-fucking, cursing, jealous!abby, hair pulling, dry-humping, finger-sucking, choking, rough sex, teasing, squirting.

“short brown hair, rugged beard. got that?” abby’s murmuring voice comes in from the earpiece you’ve got attached. you groan and roll your eyes, wishing you could mute the goddamn thing.

see, any other day, you would’ve loved to hear your wife’s pretty little voice guiding you — her praises when you’d do something right or her degrades if you’d do something wrong both sending shivers down your spine, compelling you to do whatever she wanted.

but not today. today you’re over it. so what do you respond with?

“yeah, i know, anderson. we both got the fucking brief.” you hiss. you know how pissed abby gets whenever you curse at her; so that’s exactly what you do. you relish at the thought of her gritting her teeth, not being able to snap at you in front of all of these people.

that’s right, you two are at a charity gala event. it’s fancy. too fancy to the point where it’s intimidating: glistening chandeliers, artistic decorations and bustling people wearing glamorous attire. you and abby needed to blend in with the crowd so not only are you two dressed smartly for the occasion but are also split up. not that you’re complaining. you’re sick of her. sick of her petulance whenever you’d get glorified by the agency instead of her, sick of how sometimes she can be so simple-minded, sick of how, at points, she lacks at making you feel loved.

your job is to take out an owen moore, for unforeseen reasons. you never question what the agency tells you to do, neither does abby.

you’re planning to lure him in an concealed area with your enticing charisma, make him believe you’re going to sleep with him before slicing him dead with your blade. you prowl through the many people, scanning the area with a keen eye to find him. claude debussy plays as background music, taming your harrowing nerves. killing is never easy.

“found him yet?” abby sighs.

“please don’t distract me.” there’s way too many people and it’s beginning to stress you out. what if you never find him? failing the mission is the last thing you wanna do.

“i’m getting bored. plus, small talk with strangers pisses me off.” she complains.

“not my goddamn problem.” you retort, the ends of your tight-fitting dress flailing against your legs as you pick up the pace, worrying if there’s not enough time, worrying if he’s even here in the first place.

“literally what is your problem? acting extra fuckin’ snobby tonight...”

your eyebrows knit together. abby always finds a way to get under your skin.

“let’s not fucking start—“ you’re about to snap and make yourself look like a fool in front of all of these people until somebody accidentally bumps into you: spilling his drink all over your dress. great!

“oh shit. sorry, i didn’t mean that.” you hear a man’s voice as you stare down at your ruined dress in disbelief. you slowly glance up at the culprit; only to find the noted brown hair and rugged beard staring right back at you. owen moore.

despite your worked up embarrassment and your extreme annoyance, you manage to flash a smile.

“it’s okay, but... you do realise you owe me now right?” you bat your eyelashes, hoping you don’t look silly.

“and what’s that?” owen chuckles, rubbing the back of his head and making immense eye contact. he’s already flirting back, you think. this is about to be so fucking easy.

with a few drinks, owen’s already tipsy and you’re leading him to the vast room. you make him believe you’re just as woozy; stumbling and giggling away. you take advantage of his obliviousness: your hand brushing against the slit of your dress, fingers cupping the wooden handle of the blade in the garter wrapped around your thigh. whilst he laughs and babbles nonsense, you carefully trace the edge of the blade — feelings of excitement rushing to the surface. regardless of the fact that killing is never easy, it’s also never not exhilarating.

you’re about to fully whip out the blade until owen decides to be bold: setting his slobbery hands against the small of your back and trying to lean in for a kiss.

“woah.” you feign a grin, pulling his hands away. “we go at my pace.”

“aww… please?” he mumbles, trying to seem like an adorable puppy but instead making it look disgusting. this is sad, you think. you try to grab your knife again but he’s now grabbing your arms; desperate for a fruitless smooch.

“come on… don’t play hard to get.” he growls, his sudden aggression catching you a little off guard. no need for stress, you know what to do. your knee prepares itself to kick hard in between his legs until somebody’s arm suddenly emerges from behind, wrapping around his neck and squeezing hard.

“what—“ you breathe in bewilderment, eyes widening. despite owen choking and uselessly clawing at abby’s arm for escape, her gaze stays intently trained on yours; a death stare. it’s unnerving.

it doesn’t take long for owen to turn cold and slack, eyes rolling to the back of his head. abby lets him go, but not without cracking his neck first, and you watch as he flops onto the floor.

“what the fuck, abby…” you mutter, palming a frustrated hand across your face. “where the hell did you even come from?”

“there’s doors.” she tilts her head towards the backdoor behind her. you hadn’t even noticed it. your eyes travel back to her; irresistibly ogling at the black suit clinging to her body, complimenting her form. you almost forget you’re supposed to be mad at her.

the blonde chuckles wryly, a petty exhale. “you starin’? assumed pussy boys were more your type.”

“real fucking mature.” you snarl. “i had him. i was this close to killing him, abby.”

“you were taking too long.” abby shrugs, condescendingly pouting. you grit your teeth.

“jealousy? really? grow up.”

“at least i watch where i’m going. nice dress, the wet splotch is a nice touch, really.” she slanders, narrowing her eyes. you scoff, trying to pretend as if that dig didn’t offend you.

“you’re a fucking child. help me with the body.”

you two leave the building with ease, pretending as if owen is a friend that’s had too much to drink, wrapping his arms around the both of your shoulders and leading him to your car. abby opens the boot and you two push him inside. you two will decide on how deal with the body later.

for now, you’re sat on the passenger’s seat whilst abby drives, the two of you salty and quiet. abby’s driving way too fast; her hand gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it. she’s obviously fuming.

“can you slow down?” you glare at her.

“you owe me… i mean, who even says that?” abby grumbles, ignoring your request.

“a lot of people do. now slow down, we don’t wanna attract attention from police knowing there’s a dead body back there.”

“not to mention that you’ve had an attitude since last night! the way you were flirting with that oliver guy? or whatever the fuck his name was, had to be on purpose. to spite me.”

abby starts driving even faster, increasing your stress. “owen.” you correct, “you’re so self absorbed!” you continue to beg for her to slow down.

“he’s, like, the embodiment of revolting too. don’t even get me started at the way he was trying to force himself on you. i should’ve put a bullet in his brain.” abby rattles on, pure jealousy oozing from her tone.

“you were definitely enjoying it too. i know you were.” she turns her head to look at you, not paying attention to the road.

“abby. abby!” you scream as abby almost runs through a poor family trying to cross the road.

“fuck.” abby murmurs as she swerves messily, just in the nick of time, steering into a deserted field. the two of you are out of breath from the fright, hearts racing from the adrenaline. abby rests her head on the wheel, letting out a long sigh.

“just what the hell is the matter with you?” you scold, “all this shit over a mission? are you serious?” abby’s lack of response leads you to continue yelling at her.

“of course we’re going to have to flirt with our targets now and then! the fuck happened to your professionalism? if i had known you’d be acting like this then i would’ve never—“

“why didn’t you kiss him?” abby raises her head to look up at you, her face blank. you blink, a little taken aback by the unexpected question.

“i…” you look away. you’re not exactly up for abby knowing that you couldn’t kiss him because of her. “where even are we anyway?”

“nice try. since you’re so professional, why didn’t you kiss him? he clearly wanted to. you could’ve easily killed him then.” the corner of abby’s lips arch up into a smirk — the familiar smug look of hers that never fails to get you weak.

“for someone who’s had so much to say just a second ago…” she leans in a little, arm resting against your headrest, “…you’re awfully quiet.” her voice is hushed down to a soft whisper, and you swear you’re beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

“look, abby, you’re my wife… so…” you mumble in response to her pressing question, avoiding eye contact. abby chuckles, loosening her tie. here comes the floodgates.

“don’t play dumb and pretend as if the agency didn’t arrange that.” her finger presses against the dome light of the car; illuminating your embarrassed face. just what she wanted to see.

“you’ve been enjoying yourself, seeing me all jealous like this. you liked playing femme fatale, hmm?” her finger slowly twists itself around a strand of your hair, before she yanks a handful, forcing your head closer. you wince, eyes clenched shut. your cunt decides to flex too — reminding you that she’s got a mind of her own, and that she finds being in an empty field like this, in abby’s car, pretty fucking hot.

“let’s face it…” abby whispers, so close that you can feel her breath tickling your ear, shooting heavy tingles down your body.

“you want me so bad it hurts.” her eyes drift down to your thighs that are starting to shift uncomfortably in your seat. it’s beginning to ache down there and it seems like abby’s aware of that. you can’t help it. after all, abby sitting so close: loose strands of hair framing her face, unfastened tie and darkened eyes fixed on you, feels so good that it’s suffocating.

you squirm a little and abby grins, her fingers still laced in your hair. her grip slightly tightens as she licks her lips. she looks hungry.

“maybe what hurts is your fingers in my hair.” you quip, though your voice is a little shaky.

“maybe you need to fix your attitude.” abby retorts, “like, seriously, pipe down… you’re probably soaking down there.” she snickers, right on the money.

“fuck you.” you glare at her, gauging her reaction. you want to believe you’re saying this out of sheer anger for what went down tonight, but deep down, you know that’s not the case. in reality, you just want to get under abby’s skin. it’s what you’ve been craving since the beginning; to get her pissed.

you wipe the pleased look off of abby’s face, which is now replaced with a frown. your heart pounds with anticipation: so much so that your chest faintly heaves, lips parted.

abby’s eyes wander to your lips and in one swift movement, she pulls you in; pressing her lips against yours. you’re quick to kiss her back, the sweetness of her mouth sealing yours. fervent can’t even begin to explain the way you two are kissing. akin to wild animals, small muffled groans escape the both of you.

desperation is thick in the confined air of the car, as abby pulls away and shrugs her blazer off. you stare up at her.

“hurry… with your slow-ass.” you whine.

“watch your fucking mouth. c’mere.” abby commands. you naturally do as she says and she begins to unzip your dress — not without making sure to go deliberately slow.

“why do you have to be so mean?” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“oh, trust me… i’m only gonna be meaner.” she warns whilst planting gentle kisses on your neck. you’ve always admired abby for her ability to vary from being sour to tender in seconds. little did you know, the peppered kisses on your neck served as a prior apology to how cruel she’s going to treat you in a second.

once everything is off, abby marvels at your body. like a painting in an art gallery, she makes sure to pay attention to even the minuscule details of your body. it’s her favourite thing in the entire world.

“turn around.” abby mutters, her eyes hazy; voice bleeding with lust.

“what?”

“just do it.”

you hesitantly do as she says. abby beams: finding your weak resistance amusing yet is also excited to break you.

“now… bend over.” she coos, clearly poking fun.

you shoot her a glare, cheeks flushed. “what am i, your dog?”

“don’t piss me off.”

you glare at her for a few seconds longer before sighing, reluctantly bending over.

“arching that back and everything… wooow.” abby teases, “and to think i haven’t even touched you yet.”

“oh, just fuck off, abby…” you complain, the embarrassment beginning to overwhelm you.

“what was that?”

“i said fuck—“ but you’re cut off by a yelp when abby brings her palm down flat against your ass. you flinch violently; very, very taken off guard.

“mm? didn’t quite hear you. repeat yourself.” abby taunts, smacking you again. you grunt and flinch yet again, feeling the sting of her slap coarse through your body. abby’s humiliating you, milking every last drop of your embarrassment. the worst thing yet? you’re enjoying this way more than you should be.

“i’m not kidding. speak.” abby commands, showing no signs of mercy. your skin is already starting to gleam red, and your pussy? well, it’s a fucking party down there.

“abby…” you cry, completely under her control. the more she smacks, flesh recoiling under her palm, the more your head goes blank.

“go on babe… finish what you were saying before.” abby prods. this time, when she smacks you, her fingers grasp the flesh on your ass tightly; watching in delight as her fingertips leave little red marks. you’re trembling like a leaf, both from the pain and the arousal.

see, the thing with abby is that she never likes to let things go. she adores jabbing at you until she gets what she wants.

another smack, this one so hard that you need to press your palms against the window. abby then grips your waist and pulls you way closer; making your ass press against her hips.

“you wanna get fucked?” abby mutters, teasingly bringing your waist back and forth against her hips: hard, playful thrusts. your bare cunt pressing against her crotch is, without a doubt, driving you insane. you frantically nod in response to her question, in which abby replies with latching her hand around your neck; forcing you upright so that your back is now against her chest.

“use your words.”

“y-yes…” tears begin to stream down your face. you’re desperate, yearning for her touch as if it’s a life or death situation.

“so finish what you were saying.” her fingers slightly squeeze around the sides of your neck.

“i-i told you to f-fuck off but i d-didn’t… haa… mean it.” you splutter. the you a while ago would’ve had her mouth agape in horror at your behaviour right now.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” abby coos, her fingers tracing down your stomach, in between your thighs. long, drawn-out circles are traced on your swollen clit, her fingers pressing just the right amount of pressure. you groan, and abby taps her chin against your shoulder; smirking at how your legs are writhing, desperate for more.

“where’d all your attitude go?” the blonde ridicules. her other hand moves over to your breast, squeezing it, her thumb caressing your nipple. as to the hand working on you, her middle and ring finger brush against your folds; up and down. she’s touching you but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough: abby knows that.

“don’t do this to me, abby…” you exasperate. she lets out a breathy chuckle before flipping you over and setting you down onto the car seat. she reclines it back, eyes yet again fixed on you. you stare up at her with big glossy eyes, your head blank as if you’ve been dumbed down.

abby gloats at how helpless you look, grabbing your face with one hand and squishing your cheeks. “you look stupid.”

“shut up and fuck me.” you mutter in a muffled tone. abby laughs as if what you’ve said was the funniest joke in the entire world. you wonder if abby can feel your cheeks burning up against her palm.

before you know it, abby plows her thick fingers so far inside your cunt that you’d squeal, if it wasn’t for abby’s hand still clenched on your cheeks.

“this what you wanted?” abby purrs, fingers curling up against your g-spot already. you moan, back arching and squirming.

“oh! riiiiight, you can’t speak.” she gloats, playfully shaking your head with her hand. you whine in embarrassment, yet you secretly enjoy how she’s handling you like a doll.

abby’s finger-fucking you rough, wet squelch noises filling up the car. the sound of it is so erotic that it leaves you dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your head. the blonde releases her grip on your face but not her thumb, that slips inside of your mouth.

“suck.” you mindlessly do as she says, as if you’re brainwashed. you can see abby’s cheeks tint red when you slowly suck her thumb, making sure to keep eye contact.

abby chuckles, looking away. seems like she didn’t think you’d actually do it.

“you’re shy.” you point out. you triumph over the fact that now it’s her turn to be embarrassed, but not for long.

“shut the fuck up.” abby says brusquely, her fingers operating way harder than before; relentlessly pounding against your g-spot. you cry, feeling overwhelmingly good.

that rigid attitude you had a moment ago? now dead and buried. you feel surreal, a series of mewls and sobs leaving your lips.

“nothing smart to say anymore? you look fucking pathetic.” and she’s right. you look like a hot mess. abby smothers your tears all over your face. you mindlessly move your hips, fucking yourself on her fingers. she smirks, loving what she’s seeing. you feel a knot beginning to untie in your stomach, sublime throbs coursing all over your body.

“i’m cumming…” you manage to choke out.

“i know.” abby buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you shiver at the feel of her breath against your skin.

“i’ll decide to be nice and let you finish.”

and that’s your cue. with an ending moan to seal it off, you feel your body tense up, eyes widening. abby leans in and presses her forehead against yours. you squeeze your eyes shut, before your body relaxes. you’re panting like a dog, staring up at abby with foggy and depleted eyes.

“so cute…” she murmurs before cupping your chin and kissing you — this time, soft and tender as opposed to the way she was kissing you before. you feel warm.

so absorbed in each other, you two forget about how you’re in the middle of nowhere and how the body in the car boot needs to be dealt with. for now, you two have something more important to worry about: how you’re gonna clean up the mess you’ve left all over the chair and dashboard.

a/n: you made it !!! thought it’d be funny if the target was owen😭😭 hope u enjoyed reading <3

[ashtheketchum]

● Some revenge ●

Daryl Dixon X fem.Reader

Era: Season 11, Commonwealth

Summary: The neighbors in your new home are way too loud. So you and Daryl got revenge. Warnings: +18 CONTENT, doggy style, handjob, dirty talk, spanking, petnames (like Baby and Babe)

Words: 2.4k

Masterlist!

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PoV (Y/N):

We had been living in the Commonwealth for a while now and Daryl and I already had jobs too. While Daryl worked with the other soldiers, I had to work at a bookstore. Although I wanted to work with Daryl, Hornsby said I would be better off with a quieter job. It annoyed me, but I accepted it and worked in that store from morning to night. Sometimes Judith and RJ came by to keep me company, but whenever I saw them, I saw tired faces. And I also knew the reason why.

Although we lived in a small apartment, the walls were incredibly thin so you could hear everything. And the neighbors weren't particularly quiet.They talked way too loudly, had parties, or listened to loud music. And it didn't seem to bother anyone else, because when Daryl and I went to complain, all we got was the statement that the problem would be resolved soon. And that was quite a while ago.

So I sit tiredly in my chair, reading a book while I come up with a plan to solve this problem. Daryl had often suggested solving it in his way, but luckily I was always able to stop him. But then an idea came to me. The city knew that I had been with Daryl for several years now and I wanted to take advantage of that. The knowledge alone didn't even make many men think about looking at me askance. So with a slight feeling of happiness, I finished my work a little earlier and prepared everything for my plan. To do this, I picked up Judith and RJ from school and I made sure that they both slept somewhere other than in our apartment. And after that, I had to discuss everything with Daryl.

That same day I got the apartment ready, I got the bed ready, I put on provocative underwear and I also prepared some food. Of course I still had my pants and shirt on over my underwear, but I was still a little happy. It was becoming increasingly rare that Daryl and I had sex, but whenever we did, it was incredibly good. While I was preparing the meal, I heard the neighbors, who could never be quiet, enter their apartment and prepare everything for a loud evening. But I would be faster and hopefully it would be a little quieter. Daryl would even come home a little early. "Then let's start the plan..." I muttered quietly to myself before I heard our door unlock and Daryl step inside. "I´m back." He just grumbled loudly.

I walked up to him and hugged him tightly, a big smile on my lips. “Hey... How was your day?" I asked as I gave him a kiss on the cheek. Daryl just hummed quietly before resting his head on my shoulder. This was enough of an answer for me and I ran my fingers through his hair. He seemed very tired, I almost wanted to ditch the idea so he could rest. But I could hardly open my mouth before we heard the neighbors laughing loudly. Daryl and I both growled in annoyance before we separated and I went back into the kitchen while Daryl took off his shoes. "Where are Judith and RJ?” He asked as I spread our food onto our plates. "I sent them both somewhere else for the night, to friends' houses to be exact." "Oh? Why’s tha´?” I heard him ask and the next moment I heard his armor being stripped off.

I bit my bottom lip uncertainly before turning to look at him. Daryl only had on his black pants and his black sweater, which he always wore under his armor. The material was a little tighter to his skin than his other clothes, which is why I could see his slight muscles. I unconsciously licked my lips as I studied him. The archer noticed this, of course, and hummed briefly in amusement. He slowly walked towards me until he was standing in front of me, resting his hands behind me on the kitchen counter. “Ya have anythin´ special planned, woman?” His voice seemed a little deeper than it actually was and I had to grin slightly. "Yes… I wanted to take care of the neighbors… and I need your help for that…" My voice also became a little quieter, more passionate and Daryl growled softly.

My eyes filled with lust and I slowly moved my hand up his chest. “What’s on yar mind?” Before I answered his question, I pressed my lips firmly against his. Immediately the archer growled and he wrapped his arms around my waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him even closer to me. Our lips moved against each other in a quick rhythm until I let my tongue roam his bottom lip. He immediately reciprocated my action by licking my lower lip and then sliding his tongue into my mouth. My tongue immediately received his and I moaned loudly against his lips. His hands moved lower and lower until they were on my ass. He pinched it gently once, making me whimper and jump up immediately. His strong arms immediately went under my thighs and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

Our pelvises were now rubbing right against each other and I rolled my hips against his to feel some pressure against my pussy. “Greedy~?” His voice resembled a purr and I hummed loudly. We broke apart briefly to take a breath and looked deeply into each other's eyes. His hands started massaging my butt and I started kissing his neck. I felt Daryl slowly move and in the next few seconds I was lying on our soft bed. Sadly our bedroom was right next to our neighbors living room, but now it couldn't have been better positioned.

Daryl pressed a gentle kiss to my lips before sitting up and wrapping my legs around his waist again. His fingers ran under my shirt and he slowly pushed it up until he could see my stomach. Grumbling, Daryl leaned down and kissed my stomach gently, his stubble tickling my skin a little, making me giggle softly. While he covered my skin with kisses, his fingers pushed my shirt further and further up until my breasts were now exposed. I wore a black bra that was very simple in design. It wasn't anything exciting, but at a time when you had to fight for your own survival and therefore only wore sports bras, this bra was very sexy. “God, ya look good~…” Daryl growled quietly as his gaze went up. I smiled slightly as his kisses continued upward until his lips brushed over my bra.

My nipples were already hard, but you couldn't see them through the bra. Daryl probably had the same thought I had because the next moment he took off my shirt completely and then let his hands go to the straps of the bra. “May I?” "Of course…" And with those words, he slowly pulled the straps from my arms. The thin material gave me goosebumps and I sighed loudly as Daryl opened the clip on my bra and finally took it off. He simply threw both on the floor and didn't give the material any further thought. He then did the same with my pants and panties. He kissed my clit briefly before sitting up again.

He slowly took off his shirt, his strong chest and his scars slowly becoming visible. Daryl had told me about his life back then, what his father had done to him and what he had to go through. I was sorry, but I also wanted to show him that he could feel safe and comfortable with me. Although it took a really long time, his fear gradually subsided and he now even dared to take a shower with me. “You’re perfect…” I murmured, my eyes all dreamy as I looked at his chest. I slowly ran my fingertips over his skin, over his nipples and then over his scar. The archer shuddered briefly before pushing me back down and pressing his face between my breasts.

He sucked greedily on my skin and licked it too. With his rough fingers he massaged my nipples, making me inhale sharply. I arched my back and I felt Daryl rub his pelvis against mine. A noticeable bulge was slowly forming in his pants and the bigger it got, the faster his movements against my pelvis became. My breathing became louder and louder, I had completely blocked out the noises of the neighbors. "God Daryl~…" "I know, baby~…" His voice made me gasp and I felt him slowly pull away from me. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his member, it was already rock hard and a few drops of pre-cum flowed down his shaft. "So hard for ya…~"

I slowly sat up and kissed his stomach gently. I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and moved my hand up and down. Daryl gasped softly as I squeezed hard a few times. I spread his pre-cum onto his shaft before he pushed me away and pressed his lips to mine again. Groaning, I closed my eyes, but before I could respond to his kiss, he pulled away from me again. “Turn aroun’~” He didn't even wait but grabbed my waist and turned me onto my stomach before giving my ass a slap. I whimpered loudly as I felt Daryl lift my hips. I laid my upper body on the mattress and turned my face slightly to the side so that I could still breathe.

“Ya wan’ tha’?” Daryl asked, his voice growling. His cock rose against my entrance and I just whimpered loudly. I confirmed his question with a nod and moved my pelvis further against him. He slapped my ass again, making me moan louder this time. I could be loud, shout, moan loudly. It was pretty unusual, but finally being able to do it felt really good. “Yes~! I want you inside me, Daryl! Please!” I then whimpered loudly. Daryl growled briefly again before slowly pushing himself into me.

His cock stretched my inner walls hard, making us both whimper and growl loudly. You could tell we hadn't had sex in a long time, my pussy was incredibly tight and Daryl's breathing was very fast. Just like mine. “God, ya feel good~…” Daryl purred loudly before slapping my ass again. Panting loudly, I gripped the bed sheet tightly while Daryl finally pulled back a little, only to then press himself completely back into me. He thrust into me again and again, our skin slapped against each other loudly, but our voices drowned out the slapping noises. “So good!” I screamed loudly. I could only faintly hear the neighbors murmuring something, but I ignored it and enjoyed the fullness that Daryl gave me. God, we have to fuck more often again.

Daryl moved his hips harder and harder against mine, his hands gripping my hips or waist tightly. Sometimes he would massage my ass, then he would caress my sides, and then he would slap my ass again. He kept this process for quite a while and he made me see stars with it. My eyes rolled back as his tip hit my special spot and I moaned his name loudly. “God, Daryl~…! Yes, fuck~!” “Ya like tha´?… yeh, ya like tha´, baby~” Suddenly his hand was between my shoulder blades and he pushed my upper body a little further down. He lightly pressed my face into the pillow and I screamed loudly into it. But Daryl didn't seem to like the fact that my voice was now much muffled, so he pulled me back up so that my back was pressed against his chest.

"I wan' ya, ta scream loud an' nice, 'kay?" He growled softly in my ear and I breathed faster and faster. I felt a little dizzy from my rapid breathing and Daryl's thrusts. He now buried his face into my shoulder, his right hand went to my breast, which he massaged roughly, and his left hand went to my clit. He massaged my clit in circular motions, just as he swirled his finger around my nipple. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum~…!” I screamed loudly. Daryl just growled loudly before I felt him bite my skin lightly. He wouldn't leave a mark, but it was enough to make me whimper. “Good~…cum aroun’ ma cock, yah?” He then growled in my ear.

His voice gave me goosebumps and I nodded quickly again. The pressure in my abdomen increased and my vision slowly became black. I felt that Daryl's thrusts were becoming more and more irregular and his cock was also throbbing harder inside me. Before I could do anything I came around his shaft and I screamed his name loudly. As loud as I was screaming, the entire house probably heard us, but we didn't care at the moment. “Fuck~…! Yes, jus’ like tha’…” After Daryl said this he pulled out of me and he flipped me over. He gently pushed me back into bed and he kissed my lips briefly. As he pulled away from me, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and he moved them quickly down on us. He put his face between my breasts and he breathed in my scent deeply. The archer growled loudly once before I felt his hot cum on my skin. He sprayed on my stomach and some hit my breasts too.

Breathing heavily, he began kissing my skin as I also tried to get my breathing back under control. “God, that was good…!” I then uttered, with a slight giggle. Daryl just snorted briefly before sitting up and looking at my body. The archer remained silent for a moment before he got up and put his boxershorts back on properly and then got some towels. He gently wiped his cum from my skin before throwing away the towels and placing a kiss on my forehead. “Now the neighbors stay quiet… and if not…” Daryl didn't have to continue, I understood what he meant. A wide grin crept onto my lips before I nodded slightly and gently pressed his lips to mine.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Three — Azriel x Reader

Summary: It’s not an Illyrian party without at least one person starting a fight. Azriel is a jealous little shit. Y/N wants to put the smile right back on his face.

(I really don’t want to ruin this chapter for u but I finished writing it and all I could hear was Camilla Cabello in my head singing “I’llll be hooome for chwismois” — you’ll see why)

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: Some fiiiilthy language. 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni 🌶️

It’s not that you and the others are trying to take advantage of Rhysand’s mother’s absence. But having an empty property at your disposal definitely comes in handy.

Particularly on nights like these, two weeks later, when the cottage is packed full with more people than it can reasonably host. There’s drinking and conversation and faces you don’t even recognise, and someone has brought Elpys Vine, a herb grown by someone’s sketchy great uncle on the continent that’s supposed to make you hallucinate.

Judging by the empty chair that a male opposite you keeps winking at, you think it’s probably having the desired effect.

The spot next to you dips down as Azriel takes a seat at your side. He hands you a drink, and so naturally, his arm drapes around your shoulders. It’s comforting — and also a relief, to know that things are still normal after what happened on this very couch two weeks earlier. Not a slither of awkwardness.

But your eyes have most definitely been snagging on every unfamiliar female around you and wondering if one of them could be the target of Azriel’s affections. If Kaeda is here tonight, he hasn’t said so.

Part of you wants to ask, and part of you…doesn’t. For whatever reason.

“This is definitely already way out of hand.” Az comments, cocking an eyebrow as he takes in the volume of people packed into the small space. “I thought it was supposed to be a small gathering.”

 “That’s what Cassian told me, too.” You say, and then curiosity gets the better of you. You try to make it seem casual as you study the various females dotted throughout the room. “Is Kaeda here?”

Azriel’s eyes find yours, and he gives a small shake of his head. “No.”

“You didn’t invite her?”

“I didn’t invite anyone. That was Cassian’s job.”

You heave a very dramatic sigh indeed. Sometimes, Azriel is his own worst enemy.

Not that you’ve minded helping him so far — not at all. But surely there must come a point where he directs all he’s learnt at the intended person.

“I will make my move.” He tells you. “I’m just…not quite there yet. Still working on it.”

Fair enough, you suppose. Before you can say anything else, Cassian is suddenly slumping haphazardly into the space at your other side. One of Azriel’s shadows snakes out and clasps your drink before it can slosh down your front.

“Time for a game.” Cassian calls to the room, and you want to groan. Games with Cassian usually ensure chaos. “Let’s play Knife Point.”

There are enough enthusiastic responses that you know your reluctance will be wildly outnumbered. Knife Point is a game that’s used as a ruse to kiss as many people as you like — something you delighted in at fifteen, when kissing was still new to you, but you don’t feel quite the same excitement five years later. It’s pretty simple: a knife is placed in the centre of the table, and the players gather round. One-by-one, everyone takes their turns spinning the knife, and whoever the point settles on when it stops is who the spinner must kiss.

Basic, really. But Cassian loves kissing people.

You and Azriel share a look — one that says he’s no more excited for this than you are. And then you both crack a grin and settle into your seats, because you’ll always go along with Cassian’s shenanigans, even if you complain about them first.

“It seems only fair that the future high lord starts us off,” Cassian says, and slams a dagger down on the coffee table with unguarded enthusiasm. He grins at Rhys, who’s sat in an adjacent armchair with a curvy redhead on his lap. “Rhysand, darling — would you do the honours?”

Rhys flutters thick, dark lashes and gently removes the female from his thigh. “It would be my pleasure.”

The room watches closely as he spins the knife in a sleek way that has a few gazes heating. It spins fast, and then slows, slows, before landing on a female to his right whose name you don’t know. He angles himself towards her, and the smile he gives her most definitely has her falling head-over-heels in love, and the heated kiss he lands on her mouth most definitely has her falling head-over-heels in lust. She looks genuinely heartbroken when it comes to an end.

But then it’s her turn, and she’s kissing Jonan, an ex-fling of yours, and then Jonan is kissing Cassian, and then Cass is spinning the dagger and it’s pointing at you.

Your friend bellows a comical shriek of delight and jumps up so enthusiastically that this time, Az’s shadows can’t stop your drink from spilling. Cass is utterly oblivious as he turns to you with a wicked grin, holding his arms out.

“Come here, sweetpea.” He uses the nickname he’s called you for as long as you can remember. “Come make all my heated dreams come true.”

You snort, handing Az what remains of your drink and pushing to your feet. You intend to deliver a quick peck to Cassian’s lips, but so typically, he clasps your face with enough force to lift you from the floor, and his mouth lands heavily on yours.

Immediately, a chorus of jeers and laughs ring out around the circle. Cassian’s huge hand cups your jaw, and he kisses you like you’ve seen him kiss countless males and females before. It doesn’t matter that you’re his friend, an old comfort blanket — he gives you the exact same energy he gives them. He doesn’t do things by halves.

And the kiss certainly isn’t bad, if not a little strange. You can think of far worse people to be doing this with right now.

It goes on a little longer than necessary, and when you feel it deepen, feel Cassian’s tongue probing yours, you break away. Make a dramatic show of grimacing and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Damn.” Jonan snorts. “You didn’t kiss me like that, Cass.”

Cass smirks. “You’re not half as pretty, nor half as arousing.”

They squabble, and the game continues, and you slump back down by Azriel’s side, already tuning out the noise. You turn to retrieve your drink, only to find Az draining the rest of it.

“Hey.” You knock your arm against his. “I was going to finish that.”

He stares forward, not even looking at you as he quietly replies, “I figured you were too busy.”

Your face creases into a frown as you take in the stiff, rigid set of his body. He’s damn near hunched in that corner of the couch, and it can’t be comfortable with how his wings are a little squished, but it seems almost as if…as if he’s trying to put some space between you.

You try not to think too much about it as you return your attention to the game once more. The knife continues spinning and people continue kissing, and only once does the blade point in Azriel’s direction, to which he tersely announces he was never playing to begin with.

It’s that which makes you realise the reason behind his mood going south. He’s only just started exploring the art of kissing with you, only just started becoming comfortable with it. The last thing he’ll want to do is make a whole song and dance about it and kiss a near stranger in front of a group of people.

Combine that with his natural aversion to huge gatherings, and it makes sense, now, why he’s clutching your empty cup so tightly, and the muscle in his jaw keeps moving.

When everyone else is distracted, you place a hand on his arm.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You suggest. “Get some fresh air.”

But he barely looks at you. Just keeps staring forward. He shoots a quick, hard look in Cassian’s direction and rips it away just as fast.

“I’m fine here.” He says. “You knock yourself out.”

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

You know Azriel well enough to know when his social tolerance is at an all-time-low, and being at a party is the worst possible thing for him.

He goes more and more into himself, his brooding, and he seems to emanate an invisible signal that warns people to stay far, far away. Not even the drunken, giggling females approach him. The Shadowsinger is in a dangerous mood, and it won’t take much to set him off.

He doesn’t seem all that interested in talking to you, either, given that all your attempts have been met with quiet, one-worded responses. And so, figuring he’ll come to you when he feels like it, you wander off to get yourself another drink, and you sink into the throes of the party.

At some point, you feel a warm touch on your forearm, and you turn to find Jonan there. He’s a damn nice male — for an Illyrian. A little cocky, maybe, but kind. Not the sexist brute that so many of them turn out to be. You and he had been two eighteen-year-olds, excited about exploring each other’s bodies and sex in general. Realistically, it was never going to go anywhere, but you ended things in good spirits, and you’ve very casually fallen into each other’s beds on a few occasions since.

Judging by the way his dark eyes drink you in, you’re sure he’s hoping that tonight will end in the same manner.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” You say as you pull back from the hug he gives you.

His eyes seem to glimmer with flirtation. “Perhaps you haven’t been looking hard enough.”

You snort. “Or perhaps you don’t train close enough for us to run into each other all that often.”

That’s definitely it. The Illyrian males are sorted into different training groups based on a whole host of different things. Unsurprisingly, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel are in the most skilled group. Jonan is in a different one.

And it’s Jonan’s group, you know, that has just got back from a harsh training exercise that takes them away for weeks at a time. Which is the most likely cause of you having not seen him in passing.

Azriel’s group will be the next to go on one last training exercise before everyone breaks for the winter solstice. They’ll be setting off any day now, as soon as they’re called forth by their general. A few weeks without your three closest friends is a thought you don’t want to linger on.

“How was the training exercise?” You ask, genuinely interested. There will always be a part of you that wishes that was you, out there, putting your skills to use.

But you’re female. And females stay behind.

“Fucking brutal.” Jonan answers. “The weather is bad this year, so we were out there a week longer than we were supposed to be. My sleep pattern is still fucked.”

“Sounds like you need to relax.”

“Oh, I do.” His eyes trail down your body. “Perhaps you can help me with that.”

You open your mouth, not entirely sure what you mean to reply. All you know is that you’re not jumping at the offer of easy, mindless sex like you have done in the past.

But before you can respond, Jonan is stumbling forward, into you. Thanks to a huge, muscled body knocking into him.

He whips around to face Azriel, spilled drink forgotten in his hand. You didn’t even see Az‘s approach.

“Watch it, Shadowsinger.” Jonan narrows his eyes at him. “You almost knocked Y/N over.”

Azriel stops and eyes Jonan with clear dismissal. A rare, antagonising expression sits on his flawless features. “Are you talking to me?”

“Do you see any other shadowy fucks around here?”

One side of Azriel’s lips twitch up in satisfaction. So rarely does he waste his time looking for a fight, but he’s looking for one now — and has found one.

“What I see,” he says, and steps closer to Jonan, towering over him considerably, “is an irritating little cunt who’s in my way. Move.”

But Jonan doesn’t move. Like a typical Illyrian, he salivates at the prospect of a punch-up. He looks a little pathetic as he tries to square up against Az.

“Now, now, Azriel,” he sneers. “That’s no way to talk about Y/N, is it?”

And the mention of your name in Jonan’s mouth is all it takes for Azriel to launch himself at him. There’s not nearly enough room for this, and as he grabs Jonan by the front of his tunic and slams him against the wall, all sorts of surrounding objects go flying.

At once, everyone is turning to watch the confrontation. And so fucking typically, of all the people in the room, neither Rhysand nor Cassian are anywhere to be found.

Which means you’re dealing with this alone. Because nobody else will care to break this up.

You curse quietly and jump in just as Jonan goes to land a hit on Azriel’s jaw. He falters as you throw yourself between them as best as you can at the angle. It’s not great, but you manage to wedge an arm between them.

“Hey. Enough.” You snap, and it feels like all the times you’ve reprimanded the camp younglings. “Cut this out right now.”

Jonan scowls. And actually says, “He started it.”

It makes you never want to have sex with him again. Never have you been drier between your thighs.

“I don’t give a shit. It stops now.” You stare between them seriously, and then you’re firmly grasping Azriel’s arm. “Az, we’re leaving. Now.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation, like Azriel really, really does not want to give up the fight. But then he’s letting go of Jonan’s shirt, more or less dropping him to the floor.

“Fine by me.” Az fucking smirks at the male. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

You don’t spare Jonan a single further look as Azriel grabs your hand and pulls you through the thralls of people, all disappointed at a fight not coming to fruition. But their attention is quickly stolen by something else, and you don’t look back as you and Az step out into the cold.

Az begins to walk as though the past minute never even happened. You’re quick to catch up to him and grab hold of his forearm.

“Hey.” Your breath clouds in front of your face in the cold night air. “What was that?”

Azriel shrugs. “It was nothing. He is nothing.”

“You—”

“It’s fucking freezing, Y/N. Can we just go?”

You stare back at him. The urge to pry more, demand an explanation, is a strong one. But it is freezing, and in this frame of mind, you’re not certain he’ll tell you anything, anyway. He’s in a strange mood — probably in anticipation of the upcoming training exercise. Perhaps unwisely, you decide to drop it.

“Go where?” You concede. The biting cold makes the decision to do so much easier.

“Dormitories. You can stay with me tonight.”

Dormitories is a very generous term for the limited accommodation that is offered to each training legion. Most of it sits unused, due to the majority of Illyrians preferring the harsh, toughening dwellings of tents and crumbling old houses in all extreme weathers. But a certain amount of small, draughty rooms are available, and Az tends to make use of his when the cottage begins to feel too crowded, and he needs a break from living on top of Rhys and Cass.

There’s no hammering droves of snow tonight, and you’ve patched up your boots enough to hopefully last you a little longer. A broad expanse of stars glimmers above you, making it a rather pleasant night for a stroll — or it would be, if not for the unavoidable presence of Azriel’s bad mood.

Your attempts at conversation are met with non-committal responses, and by the time you’re kicking through the peeling wooden door to the accommodation, you’re fucking exasperated.

Azriel can be very, very insufferable when he thinks himself into a foul mood.

You could go home, back to your father’s house — you certainly consider it as you follow Az into his cramped dwellings, but…you don’t know. You wouldn’t like to leave him like this. To walk away without seeing him crack a little smile. In nine years of friendship, you’ve never done so before. So you shut and lock the door behind you, and resign yourself to a very silent, very tense night.

You press your back against the door, watching as Azriel perches on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes. Through the walls, you hear the distinct sound of skin slapping against skin, and the building moans of a female close to climax. This miserable building is more often used as a place for a quick fuck than it is to actually sleep in.

But Az doesn’t seem to notice as he shrugs out of his clothing, quickly slipping on a pair of low-slung cotton sleeping trousers, and sprawls out across the mattress, wings fanning around him.

You’re not sure why you don’t move, at first. Or maybe you are.

Your gaze snags on the toned muscles of Azriel’s torso, and the smattering of dark hair that maps a line from beneath his bellybutton to what sits under his trousers. You’ve seen it countless times before, and yet you can’t stop staring.

Particularly when he stretches his arms above his head, and then drags a hand down his stomach. To him, it’s a subconscious act, but to you—

You can’t stop yourself zeroing in on his hand. The very hand that touched you and bathed you in a pleasure so stunning, so splintering, that you hadn’t dared to try and replicate it yourself since. Such inexperienced fingers had coaxed such expert sensations—

“Are you coming to bed?” Azriel’s voice drags you from your thoughts.

“…Right.” You clear your throat. “Yeah.”

“There’s a shirt for you in the armoire.”

You shuck off your clothes, digging out the tunic you often borrow from Az to sleep in. He barely spares you a glance, his eyes glued to the ceiling. You can’t help heaving a sigh as you pad over and slip beneath the blanket. The faelights wink out, and for a while, you both lie there in silence. It’s you who eventually breaks it.

“Are you going to tell me what that fight with Jonan was about?”

Az slings an arm above his head. “You were there. I’d hardly call it a fight.”

“No, I’d call it an overreaction.”

“Jonan’s an arrogant bastard and everyone knows it.”

He brooks no room for argument. And he’s not exactly wrong, either. You know Jonan gets himself into more brawls than the average person. But Az wasn’t exactly justified tonight.

But before you can think of a response, he says, quietly, “Sorry — if I ruined your night.”

You pause. And then roll onto your side, staring at his outline through the darkness. “You didn’t. I didn’t want to go to the party, anyway.”

There’s a tiny, soft snort. “Me neither.” He agrees. “But going along with Cassian’s ideas is the story of our lives.”

“That it is.”

Az says no more, does no more. And you…you hate it. Because it’s not simply that he’s sleepy and dozing off beside you. He’s just as awake as you are. And his mood is still heavy and tense.

You can’t stand it.

It’s perhaps against your better judgement that you inch closer to him, your mind already made up about how you might lift his spirits. It’s dangerous, because your arrangement has simply been about helping him, and he’s always been the instigator, knowing what he needs and when he needs it. Which he most certainly isn’t doing now.

But you would be helping him…in a way. And you can’t lie and say that it hasn’t bothered you, over the past two weeks, that you didn’t get to return the pleasure he gave you.

It would still be a learning experience. That’s what you tell yourself as you press against his side and drape your arm over his stomach.

Az pauses, but this isn’t unusual for the pair of you. You’ve cuddled like this plenty of times over the years — with your other friends, too. And so there’s no hesitation as he slides an arm beneath you and tugs you closer, his wing tucking you in.

You rest your head on his chest, and you murmur, “I don’t want you to go on the training exercise.”

You really, really don’t.

You always miss your friends when they’re sent away, but it seems…heavier, somehow, this time. Like there’s more between you to miss.

That…that is not a good thought to have.

You banish it from your mind rather than dwelling on it.

Az’s hand presses against your back. “I’ll be home in time for Solstice.”

You hear the unspoken promise in that statement; the one Azriel knows you need to hear. Because this isn’t just about simply missing his company.

Solstice is…hard for you, to say the least. Being holed up with your father, him drinking from the crack of dawn until he collapses in a chair by the fire. His unpredictable, volatile moods and tendency to pick at you over every tiny thing. It’s the time of year you rely on your friends the most, and you spend the entire day waiting for your father to pass out so you can sneak away and forget him for a while.

Azriel’s bare skin is so pleasantly warm, lulling you back to the present. You shelve your worries for the time being, press your cheek against his pectoral, and breathe in his frost-and-cedar scent. His wing drapes over you, cocooning the two of you in your own little world.

And there’s no better place than inside that world to ease some of Azriel’s tension. Bring the smile back to his lips.

“…Az?” You whisper, slowly gliding a hand over his stomach.

His body tenses beneath you. There’s a pause before he answers, “Yes?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing…” He clears his throat. “Nothing much. What are you thinking about?”

The question is an opening for you to stop this right here. You could return a similar, half-assed response, remove your hand from his stomach and go to sleep. Like any sensible, reasonable friend would do.

Or you could be honest.

You could tell Azriel that your close proximity has you thinking all about the magic of his fingers, the sensations he wrought from you. You could admit that it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve thought about it since it happened — not at all. You could tell him that you’re still a little stunned, because besides yourself, nobody has ever made you come that hard.

You could tell him how badly you want — need — to return the favour.

And never one to back down from a situation, however daunting, you do exactly that.

“I’m thinking…” you murmur, and your finger begins to just slightly trace lines over his stomach. Your touch is so light, and yet you feel his body react beneath you. “I’m thinking that there’s more I’d like to teach you about touching.”

A little breath escapes him. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” That finger of yours gets a little bolder, making bigger sweeps over his skin and dancing close to his waistband. “But this time, I want to touch you. You made me feel so good, Azriel. I want to make you feel good as well.”

“You…you don’t have to do that.”

Gods, you know you don’t. You know this situation has never been about him expecting anything from you. Just a friend helping a friend out. No big deal.

But who says you can’t both get something out of it?

“I know I don’t have to.” You answer him. Your hand stops its movements, and you stare up at him, your eyes accustomed enough to the dark to make out certain features. “And I won’t, if you don’t want me to. Do you want me to?”

A tiny, tiny little pause.

And then Azriel rasps, “Yes.”

It’s a guttural, gasping sound, and it’s so delicious that you want to swallow it.

You don’t hesitate in moving your hand up to his face. You angle it towards you. Slant your lips over his.

And you smile. There’s a mulled wine that Azriel far prefers drinking over the piss-poor ale that most males around here favour, and it’s not the first time you’ve tasted it on him. It’s pleasing to explore — the spices and berries and damp heat of his mouth a combination that coaxes you to slide your tongue between his lips.

Az seems pretty well comfortable with his kissing technique, now. He leans into it, not at all tentative, his tongue meeting the strokes of yours. And then he suddenly breaks away.

“I like—this.” He pants heavily, breath fanning your face. “I like doing this.”

The words make something glow inside you, because that is precisely what you want. This isn’t just about teaching him the technicalities of physical touch. It’s about liberating him from the barriers he’s built in his mind, and showing him how much he can enjoy it.

And your friend deserves that.

You plan to really show him.

You slide your hand over his hip and haul him closer, eliminating the tiny little gap that existed between your bodies. An act that makes him suck in a breath.

“If I do anything at all that you don’t like, you need to tell me, Az.” You stare at him. “Okay?”

He nods.

“I need your words. Swear it.”

“Gods, Y/N, I swear it.”

He kisses you this time.

He really does like doing that.

The kiss is hot and hungry, loitering on the precipice of being frenzied. Azriel’s hand slides to the back of your neck, his fingers kneading the skin there. A dim faelight blinks back to life, bathing the two of you in enough warm light to see each other. His tongue pushes past the seam of your lips.

But you don’t give him the chance to stroke at your mouth. There are a million other places you can think of kissing; a million other places you’re just as desperate to get your mouth on.

Your lips glide along Azriel’s jaw with the lightness of a breeze. He goes still, appearing to wait with bated breath to see what you’ll do next, and how it will feel. He’s never been kissed here before.

Nor at his neck. You kiss the skin gently, at first, and smile to yourself at the little breath that hitches in Az’s throat. Something told you he’d be amenable to neck kisses.

Indeed, he is, as you attach your lips to the column of his throat and suck.

It’s a soft ungh, this time, that escapes him. A noise of both surprise and delight. Perhaps he never before considered the sensitivity of the neck, how enjoyable it might be to be kissed there. It’s one of many things you want to be the one to teach him.

You suck and lave at the area until his stomach is caving beneath your hand, and then you’re moving on, dragging your mouth over his collarbone. Down to his pectoral.

His skin is hot but its taste is cold — cold, like his scent. Frost and snow, icy starlight, the whipping winds and thrill of flying. Gods, it’s all delicious, and you close your mouth over his nipple, desperate to taste more.

Azriel starts, his back arching just a little. Your eyes flit up to his as your tongue teases the peaked flesh.

“This okay?” You check, allowing your teeth to graze just a little.

“Yes.” Az breathes. “I never considered that that might feel good for—for a male, too.”

You smile, repeating the action, fastening your lips totally around the nipple and giving a gentle suck. It earns you another quiet sound in response.

But you don’t want quiet. You want to make your friend feel so good that he can’t keep a lid on those sounds. The muscles of his stomach are quivering under your palm, and you decide it’s unfair to make him wait any longer.

So as your tongue circles his nipple, you slip your fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers.

You’re careful, even though you know the sharp intake of breath is a positive one. Nobody’s hands but his own have ever ventured here. You want him to be aware of every touch, every feeling.

Your fingers skate over the dusting of fine, coarse hair. And lower. And then your hand is on his cock.

The mere weight of your touch drags a breathless little noise from Azriel’s throat. And you pause.

Azriel is big, even by Illyrian standards.

From touch alone, you can feel its length, its thickness. You’re not entirely sure you can fit him in your hand, let alone anywhere else.

But gods are you willing to try.

You take your time exploring every detail, starting at the smooth, swollen head — already leaking a droplet of moisture —and circling its rim with your finger. Azriel’s hips jerk, and you smile, removing your mouth from his nipple to kiss further down,

“Still doing okay?” You ask, coasting your lips over his ribs. The pads of your fingers stroke over the head of his cock slowly, casually.

But there is absolutely nothing casual about Az’s voice as he grounds out, “I’m doing great.”

“Want me to keep going—”

“Please.” The word escapes his mouth before you can even finish the sentence. “Please.”

You smile, and you scoot lower down his body, giving yourself the perfect angle to explore the muscles of his abdomen with your mouth, your tongue.

It allows you to feel the exact moment you glide your palm down the length of Azriel’s cock, following the long, jagged vein.

Gods, it feels like it goes on forever.

The skin is velvety, smoothing over every vein, every bump and ridge. You explore it all, as much for your enjoyment as for his. You can’t imagine what it must be like to feel it sliding in and out of you, hitting a spot so deep inside you that you’d have to bite the mattress—

A thought you should not be having. It isn’t going that far.

And there’s a twinge of disappointment at that fact. But now isn’t the time for disappointment.

You trace the length of Azriel’s cock all the way down to his balls, and he’s trembling beneath you. You tug at his trousers, whisper, “Can I pull these down?”

It might be silly to ask, given that your hand is already well beneath the fabric. But you want him to have a choice in everything.

So when he gives a firm nod and lifts his hips for you, you tug the cotton trousers down, peeling them easily from his hips.

Azriel’s cock springs up. And it…it might just be the most perfect cock you’ve ever seen.

You damn near moan at the sight of it.

But before the sound can escape you, you smother it by pressing your lips to Azriel’s stomach. You kiss the skin, lap at it, graze your teeth over it. And your hand returns to his hardened length.

Finally — fucking finally — you wrap your hand around him.

Azriel makes a gasping sound at your touch, his hips canting up into your hand. He’s so responsive to your touch that you have to clench your thighs together to ignore your own arousal. This is about him. Entirely about him.

It’s about him as you slowly begin to pump his shaft, peppering kisses down and down until you’re at his hip. It’s about him as you squeeze gently and hear the hitching of his breath.

“So responsive,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hip.

“Is that—gods—” He hisses between his teeth as you pump a little faster, “—is that a good thing?”

“Very good, Az. I want to know that you’re enjoying it.”

“I am. Fuck, Y/N, I am.”

“Good.” Another kiss lands on his skin. “You’re doing so good for me.”

The praise drags another noise from the depths of his throat — the loudest he’s made so far. You don’t know whether he’s simply gaining in confidence, or whether he’s losing control. Maybe both. Hopefully both.

And you think you might lose control, too. Watch with rapt fascination as the head of his cock leaks, and it’s swelling, thickening in your hand, and you know he’s not going to last much longer.

You really want to taste him before he falls off the edge.

“Holy gods,” Azriel pants, his teeth biting into his lower lip. “Y/N, I don’t think I’m gonna last.”

“Don’t fight it.” You lick your lips. “Can I put my mouth on you?”

The question makes him fucking groan, and he chokes out an affirmative response, his cock rutting into your hand. You know he’s close, and you want him to finish. Preferably on your tongue.

And when you slide your mouth onto his cock, you know that’s going to happen.

You hollow your cheeks, sucking him into your mouth as much as you can.

Azriel shouts, his head falling back, eyes screwed shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You suck on him, tongue tracing the length of the vein that’s beginning to throb. He doesn’t seem to be aware of the way he slides his hands into your hair, his hips rolling.

“Y/N,” he pants, your name languid and slurred on his tongue, “m’sofuckingclose.”

You pull your mouth off of him long enough to say, “Look at me. Watch me while you come.”

And then you’re sucking him again, your hand wrapped around the base of his length. You pump and lick him and bob your head in time to Az’s hips canting against you, and you think the sounds he’s making may just be the most beautiful ones you’ve ever heard.

And he watches you so closely, his brow furrowed, his lips parted, his chest heaving. Your gaze collides with his, and you’re hollowing your cheeks and giving a particularly harsh suck.

“Oh, gods, Y/N, fuck!”

Azriel spills into your mouth, shot after shot coating your tongue. You take it all, swallowing greedily, savouring the saltiness and the hint of something else that is just Azriel. It seems endless, and so do his groans, his constant string of curses, the jerking of his hips and the trembles wracking through his entire body.

You damn well suck him dry. Not a drop is spared.

As you finally pull him out of your mouth, wipe your lips with the back of your hand and glimpse his shaking, sated form, you know you’re committing the sight to memory. For when this is all over.

He’s…he’s a vision. Head still tipped back. Stomach and chest still heavily rising and falling. Pleasure still pinching his face. His hands are fisted tightly in the bedsheets.

You leave him to come down from his high. He’s still panting a little when his head lolls forward, and his eyes meet yours.

“That was—” His voice cracks a little. “God’s, Y/N, I don’t have words.”

“It’s okay.” You press a gentle kiss to his stomach, tucking his sensitive length back into his trousers. “Words aren’t necessary. You did so well.”

His arms are suddenly around you, tugging you up and against him, your body slanted slightly over his. All the earlier tension from the night is gone, and it’s just you and him, your love and friendship, your unbreakable bond.

Az holds you tightly, burying into your hair. And you think that this was maybe more than just…you returning a favour. You think this might have been a soul-shifting moment for him. Something that released him from the invisible bindings that have held him back for so long.

And it saddens you a little to think that that might be the end of it. That you’ve done all you can do.

But still, you’re honoured to have helped him this far. To have guided him through it.

“Thank you.” He whispers, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head. He’s still trembling, and he tucks himself in tight as if he’s worried he might break. “Just…thank you.”

You don’t quite know what to say. It feels a little…final, and you don’t like that.

So you simply nestle into his side, and you repeat your earlier truth, your voice a whisper. “I don’t want you to go on the training exercise.”

Because you know you’ll miss him more than you ever have before. It’s going to be far harder this time.

What, exactly, that means…you can’t bear to think of it right now.

And there’s no need to as Az holds you tightly, kisses your head again.

“I’ll be there with you on Solstice.” He says. “I promise.”

azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden

[ageingfangirl2]

I Want A Divorce! Shanks (OPLA)

You get ill and Shanks offers to do your jobs around the ship, but he gets distracted easily and wants your praise. You love the man-child, but sometimes you have to tell him to actually like his age. Shanks x Reader FLUFF!

'You have a high fever so I'm going to recommend bed rest until it breaks, can't have you getting any worse,' Hongo states, placing a cold cloth on your forehead which was nice in your current state.

You cough, 'I guess I can take it easy Hongo.'

Over Hongo's shoulder, you notice Shanks watching and listening intently to the doctor's orders, 'I'm going to do all your jobs so you just rest up.'

You and Hongo snicker sharing a moment, both of you knowing Shanks wouldn't be able to cope with all that you did around the ship without complaining. Hongo pats your shoulder as he gets up from the bed. Shanks immediately takes his spot, tucking you in. You were the fourth crew member to join and the only female, and had been charmed into dating the notorious red-haired pirate.

'I love you darling but you don't even know half of what I do around here,' you whisper, throat sore.

Shanks puffs out his chest proudly, 'I'm going to make you proud, I'm going to do so good everyone will be begging me to do your jobs instead.'

You smile as he leans down and kisses the cold cloth.

TWO DAYS LATER

Shanks bursts through the doors of his quarters which you shared and throws himself on the bed next to you burying his face in a pillow. He could be an overdramatic diva at times but he was your diva. Before you can say anything Lucky walks in holding a tray of food that makes your mouth water and forget your partner.

'How are you feeling? Hongo said you should eat more fruit so I made you a fruit salad for after your soup.'

Ignoring Shanks who was now mumbling into the pillow you sit up and accept the tray of food and glass of water, 'You're all too good to me Lucky. How are the new guys?'

Lucky shrugs his shoulders, 'confused and maybe a little scared because they follow your instructions which makes captain grumpy.'

You nod, 'I'll talk to him. Thanks for the update.'

Lucky leaves and closes the door behind him. Shanks rolls onto his side and reaches for the fruit salad but you swat his hand away, 'My fruit salad captain.'

Shanks pouts, sticking out his bottom lip and shooting you his best puppy dog eyes, 'Why didn't you tell me what you did? I wouldn't have agreed otherwise. I love you, but dealing with the new crew is tedious.'

Just wait until he found out all the other odd jobs you did to help out the rest of the crew, there was a reason people called you mother hen. You pop a slice of apple in your mouth and sigh, 'What do you want me to do darling? Give you a pat on the back? Feed you a treat, give you a belly rub and call you a good boy? It's not easy but you never back down from a challenge. I know you'll give it your all until I get better.'

Shanks sits up and stops pouting, a look of determination in his eyes, 'You're right I can do this. I'm going to make you proud.'

You scoff as he steals some grapes and jumps off the bed with a new lease of life, you really did have him wrapped around your little finger.

FOUR DAYS LATER

Your fever had come down and you didn't feel like death anymore, but Hongo insisted you stay in bed for a few more days. The crew had bets on Shanks he didn't know about, he'd gotten better at doing your jobs but wasn't great. You promised to stay in bed so the crew could make some money off your partner.

THREE DAYS LATER

You were sat up in bed reading the newspaper feeling much better and enjoying relaxing for once. Shanks walks in and climbs on top of you, lying on you with his full weight, 'I know your secret babe,' he chuckles, head now resting on your chest, eyes locked with yours but he doesn't look upset.

You put the paper down and start running your fingers through his hair, 'Hongo asked me to stay in bed longer, I actually enjoyed not having as many responsibilities, makes a nice change. I'm sorry for deceiving you, Shanks.'

Shanks nuzzles into your hands more enjoying the massage, 'Now I know how much you do I want you to slow down. I'll try and help more when I can, and the crew promised to fix their own problems before coming to you for help babe.'

'Thank you. However, you lying on top of me is making parts of my body fall asleep.'

Shanks smirks, 'I'll wake them up when I need them.'

You throw your head back and laugh at his playful and flirty antics, 'I want a divorce.'

Shanks matches your laughter, 'I'm never letting you go, you mean too much to me. Maybe a few years after the marriage you can talk about a divorce.'

For all the years the two of you had been together you weren't engaged, everyone assumed you were married and the two of you kind of went with the flow. Little did you know Shanks wasn't joking about marriage this time around.

[scuderiahoney]

On The Horizon

Max Verstappen x reader // Strawberry Wine Pt IV

Masterlist // Series Masterlist

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

Word Count: 7.3k

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

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

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

“Aw, thanks, Lan,” you say sweetly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh. Danny does too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But things are good now?” Daniel asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he murmurs. “Talk to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

The first full day there, though, is magical.

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

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

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

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

He laughs. “I was right here.”

“I know,” you say.

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

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

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

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

“We were tired, huh?” He says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got sick? When?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sniffle. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

Next to you, Max scoffs.

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

“Max?” You answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Max.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed you like hell,” he says.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” you reply.

…..

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

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

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

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

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

“Want some flowers?” He asks.

“Always,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

“You want some?” He asks.

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

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

“They’re my favorite,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” you say.

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

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

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

“Where to now?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[everparanoid]

Make me lose my breath, make me water ┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , NSFW

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: Cunnilingus, consent is hot, Reader is from Natlan, cuffs used inappropriately, Body Worship, My First Smut, Fontaine is France but it's not but it is, PWF, PWP, Mutual Pining, No use of y/n, Reader is Not Traveler (Genshin Impact), Creampie, biting kink, Written After 4.1 Update, Minor spoilers for 4.0 quest, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Light Bondage, light orgasm denial

wordcount: 6.1k

synopsis: The notorious Duke of the fortress of Meropide hasn't been on his A-game lately, and it shows.

Originally posted: 25.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: 'Water' by Tyla.

Three quick knocks rattled the door to his large office. The sound echoed up to the second floor where his desk resided.

“Come in,” Wriothesley said not looking up from his papers.

Wriothesley was a busy man. Well, being the Duke of the self-running, man-powered Fortress of Meropide wasn’t an easy job. It wasn’t exhausting either, but that was beside the point.

He took a slow prolonged sip from his teacup. The second sip in the last hour; the flavoured water had long since cooled from the general chill in the office. Not that he could feel anything beyond the normal chill of the underwater Fortress; and with the added benefit of his cryo vision he considered himself well-suited for the climate. That didn’t mean he didn’t miss the sun. Although, he could see the sun whenever he found a reason to leave the fortress, which he often didn’t.

He sighed for the fifth time that hour.

“I hear you’ve been doing that a lot,” You said ascending the spiralled staircase.

He paused and lowered his teacup, placing it on the small pile of report papers he was using as a mat. One side of his lips raised threatening to become a half smile. He quickly wiped it away.

“Oh? Have I now?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, your voice smooth and confident. “I think I’m going to have to report you to Sigewinne.”

“Am I to assume she isn’t the one who sent you?”

His eyes met yours as you arrived atop the stairs, a hand on your hip and that sassy look in your eyes that he had grown fond of. He realised now why he had been so distracted.

He missed you.

You often frequented the fortress. First as a commissioned messenger between Wriothesley and Neuvillette, then a ‘convict’, and after that a friend and now… he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to complain about the company. It was nice having someone as into tea as he was. Not that he would admit it, but it got lonely in the Fortress sometimes. More so since he met you.

“What? You afraid of a couple of stickers?”

“You know about that?” he grumbled, glancing at the pile of crumpled Melusine stickers littering the side of his desk, freshly pulled off the back of his coat.

“I have ears everywhere, Your Grace,” you smirk, withholding the crucial fact that you were the culprit providing the stickers for Sigewinne and her Melusine friends. They paid you back in giggles and smiles, and just the joy on their small faces was enough for you.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You probably know more about what’s happening in my humble home than me,” he said. Only a half lie on his part. You had an aptitude for making tough things bend to your will. Him being the toughest of things in question. He dismissed the thought of you flashing that blinding smile at anyone other than him.

Your shoulders rose and fell as a melodic laugh left your lips and graced his ears. If he could keep your voice in a bottle, he would.

You shook your head and pushed off the railing. His attention remained on you as you took a seat on the settee a bit away from his desk.  His throat—as if he hadn’t just taken a sip of his cold tea— felt overwhelmingly dry. He cleared it gently and picked up his teacup.

“How’s the Traveler and Paimon?” he asked, taking a sip.

The flavoured water was colder. He needed to calm down lest he froze the entire thing. He imagined you would be the only one to find amusement in him sipping ice.

You crossed your legs, and your skirt rode up. He looked away respectfully, much to his dismay and the favour of his quickly deteriorating will. He didn’t remember when it happened. When he started seeing you as more than just the middle woman between Neuvillette and himself; more than just a pawn in this game against the fatui, but now he found himself knowing the way your cheek dimpled slightly only on your right cheek when you laugh; how the skin around your eyes crow when you yawn or squint; how you change to fix your posture every thirty minutes when you’re lost in a book, and your neck starts to get sore, and your lower back begs to be stretched out. He pulled himself out of his thoughts before they had a chance to spiral further.

“They send their regards and a thank you for your help with ‘the situation,’” you said making air quotes. You didn’t mention how you didn’t plan to return to them for a while, but some things were best left unsaid with Wriothesley.  

Wriothesley nodded and gestured for you to join him in for some tea.

“If you have some time, of course,” he finished.

“Of course, If you are offering,” you responded. 

You went to stand but Wriothesley beat you to it. Thankful for the excuse to busy himself with something other than your smouldering presence. If he was an icy avalanche, then you were like a raging inferno, melting him into warm water. Perhaps it had something to do with the pyro vision dangling from your hip. He glanced at the vision and caught a glimpse of your bare legs. He froze, curious about what colour you might be wearing underneath your skirt: black, white, blue, red? Instead, he was beyond relieved when he saw black shorts. He breathed a sigh. That’s so you.

“I can heat the pot, you know?” you say, growing increasingly more tired of his strange mood and equally as obscure silence. Never had Wriothesley sighed so much. Honestly, you never would have considered him a sigher; more a hmpher or a quiet snickering type.

You and everyone in Fontaine who had the pleasure or misfortune—mostly the misfortune—of knowing the Duke, knew that recently he had been off. In truth, your visit hadn’t been to express Neuvillette’s message (though that made a great cover). No, you were there because of a chain of strange letters from Sigewinne, given to you by an equally as annoyed Clorinde, telling you of the Duke’s bizarre behaviour. According to these letters, he was more attentive than usual. He had appeared around the fortress checking in on the production zones and the inmates an alarming number of four times in the last month, nearly causing several heart attacks amongst the inmates, which as a result caused Sigewinne to be on high alert from all the overworking; he hasn’t been partaking in as many fights in the ring, and he hasn’t been drinking as much tea.

It was the last two on the list that shocked you the most and was most of the reason why you were there now. Wriothesley not drinking tea? Was Fontaine’s archon a fraud?

Uncrossing your legs, you stood and approached him. Placing a hand on the teapot, you heated the water with your vision.

“Let me do that," you said.

You sounded more breathless than you had intended to, but being so close to him does that to you. He always managed to take your breath away, but you had stupidly thought that with time those senseless reactions would die upon learning more about the mysterious brutish duke. The way all crushes faded when the mystic i.e., the lack of information and the delusions of projection, disappeared. Instead, it seemed to have only worsened. A butterfly somersaulted in your stomach when you accidentally brushed your hand against his.

Wriothesley stiffened. The touch went straight to his gut.

“Why are you here?” he responded smoothly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Not that he was concerned about why you were here—he couldn’t be happier—but you were supposed to be away for the next six months on a quest with the traveler to your home region, Natlan. Had Sigewinne called you back out of concern for him? He had to be more careful around the small nurse in the future.

“Your tea collection isn’t as depleted as usual,” you observed, staring into the box filled with other miniature boxes of tea, skilfully deflecting the question.

“An interrogation. You’re making me nervous,” he joked. “I am a busy man, I don’t always have time for tea.”

The look you fixed him with was not amused.

“You always drink at least three cups a day,” you said putting stress on the ‘at least.’ If it wasn’t tea, it would be a terrible addiction.

“Wow, you’re counting? I’m impressed.”

“Which flavour do you want?”  you said, ignoring him.

“The special blend.”

Without a second thought, you plopped the tea bag into the teapot and left it to brew.

It was your favourite, and that is why he chose it. He was more of a black tea or green tea kind of person, but the special blend he had made specifically for you. You didn’t know that though; you didn’t have to, he enjoyed hearing your quiet hums of happiness with each sip. It was great fodder for his late-night thoughts.

His heart warmed, as the skin around your eyes crowed the way he loved. Loved? He cleared his throat.

“You aren’t booking yourself as many fights. Which I would be happy about if I thought it didn’t directly correlate to why you’re acting so strange,” you lectured, and to him, you sounded like a particular short blue-haired Melusine.

“I can’t help but feel that you are worried about me,” he jested.

“As anyone would be about a friend,” you said.

Friend? Yes, that was what you were. Friends.

“Friends. Yes,” he agreed albeit stiffly.

You gave him a cautious side-eye unsure as to why his tone hurt you.

The word left a bitter taste in Wriothesley’s mouth and when you offered to fill his cup again, he accepted. Suddenly needing the soothing numbing effects of his tea more than ever. You topped up his cup before you poured the heated water into the teacup that had unintentionally become yours.

 Wriothesley didn’t let anyone else use it. It was superstitious really, and he didn’t consider himself a superstitious person. However, he worried that if he let anyone else use it you suddenly won’t come back one day. Not that you would be able to tell the difference if he did let someone else use the cup; all the teacups he owned looked exactly alike, but yours was different. It was a cup with a little chip on the rim near the handle from when you decided to have your tea with Neuvillette, Clorinde, the traveler and himself after the recent troubles with the Fatui. Your cup had chipped due to the heat of your hand; he could recall the horror on your face when he informed you how much each cup cost after letting you ramble on about owing him another cup.

You eventually fell into a comfortable silence sitting together on the settee.

“Clorinde has been visiting you a lot recently,” you said from behind your teacup. You took another sip.

Wriothesley recalled his earlier meeting with the champion dualist.

“Yes, we had some tea.”

“Really?”

“Jealous?”

You turned away.

“There is no need to be, I assure you,” he said, feeling a deep sense of relief at the way you seemed so bothered by his meeting with your mutual friend. The same friend who had been lecturing him about his ‘mutual’ feelings for you. Perhaps it was because of your reaction, that he realised that Clorinde might have been right. Or he was delusional? Maybe it was both.

Wriothesley placed his mug down on the coffee table. His hand brushed your bare thigh and you both jolt.

“Who says I am jealous?” You snapped, your lip twitching.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because your lip twitches when you’re upset, and your pyro vision makes you heat the things around you without abandon. Your eyes lose that spark which makes them look like the spotlights guarding Meropide, and you refuse to look at me because you know I’ll see right through you. And I do. I see you.”

He took another sip from his tea, pretending to not notice your tea bubbling in your hand, and the crack growing on the side of the teacup.

“It’s not nice to make jokes like that, Your Grace,” you said nervously.

Your eyes darted about the office settling on anything but him. The bookshelves looked fuller than usual. Has he been reading more books?

“Indeed. It is not but come on you should know me better than that by now. I never joke about things like this,” he said. His voice was clear and sincere. “Is it so strange that I would want to give a few words of praise out of genuine adoration?”

Especially since he saw the way you’re reacting; he knew that it was real and not a fantasy from his misguided thoughts. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity to make his feelings clear. He was a straightforward guy, after all. When he knew what he wanted was within his reach he wouldn’t simply pass it up. It would be unjust. He wanted to watch you smile, to be the one that caused that smile; he wanted to be the first person you went to when something good happened in your life; he wanted to feel your skin and not just in passing touches; he wanted to let it scold him, to embrace the flames.

“Ah, it seems I have ruined the mood,” he said smoothly.

He stood.

You went to stand too, but when you did the boiling liquid in your teacup splashed your hand. You hissed and dropped it. The porcelain shattered against the metal ground; the liquid spilt everywhere.

Wriothesley sat back down on the settee and took your warm hand in his immediately not sparing a second to glance down at his soaked boots. They encased yours and worked to chill the burn; one of the many benefits of having a cryo vision. The two of you couldn't be any more different. Fire and ice co-exist? Impossible.  Unimaginable. Dangerous. The tenderness in which he held your hand sets your heart ablaze as if it wasn’t already. Had he been telling the truth? You knew the Duke better than most, and with that knowledge you know he wasn’t the type to lie about that, but did he mean it? Could he mean it?

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Wriothesley’s attention remained on the forming boil on your soft skin. He soothed it gently, trying not to give you frost-burn. Thankfully the natural heat of your skin stopped his cryo from hurting you further.

“For what?” he responded softly, bringing your hand up to his lips and breathing out cool frosty air. You felt like mush, and if it weren’t for the dull ache in your hand you would have snatched up the opportunity to run said hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. It always looked so soft and maybe he would allow you to touch it.

You pulled a face between flustered and self-loathing.

“That was one of your expensive teacups,” you managed to choke out.

He continued to blow cool air onto your hand.

“There will be other teacups,” he says, his lips barely an inch from your skin.

You wanted to melt on the spot.

“But—“

He sighed and said your name sternly looking up at you through the haze of dark lashes.

“Why would I worry about a teacup when you are hurt?” he asked and lowered your hand from his lips. “In any case, I should apologise for ruining a perfectly good meeting. If you have said all you need to say then—”

You waved your hands, flabbergasting him as you snatched them from his cool encasing, momentarily forgetting about the burn, and cutting him off mid-speech.

“No, you didn’t,” you yelped.

He half smiled at the scarlet tint of your ears, and taking your burnt hand back into his, he proceeded to gently apply cryo to the festering burn.

“Ah, is that so?” he chuckled. “Alright then, how will you pay me back?”

“Huh?”

“You broke my favourite teacup, after all. So—“ he said your name with a hint of mischief in his smooth voice. “How will you pay me back?”

“That’s not fair!” You straightened in your seat. “How can that be your favourite teacup when they all look the same? Are you just saying that to make me feel worse than I already do?”

He cocked a brow and tugged you forward. You fell into him, your free hand coming to rest on his lower abdominal. Your nose brushed his, and you felt his cool breath against your cheeks. His breathe smelt of spearmint. Your lips twitched and you tried to focus on the scar under his eye (the one you’ve always wanted to trace with the tips of your fingers) so as to not meet his icy blue stare, or to glance down at the obvious smirk on his lips. You wanted to kiss him; you could kiss him; would he let you kiss him?

Wriothesley watched your tongue dart out to swipe across your lips; he wanted to bite it; but he had more control than that. He had an image to uphold. The Duke was supposed to be fair and reasonable; he was supposed to lead by example and be a neutral figure of respect and reverence, not a brute without self-control. He pushed you back gently, hoping beyond hope that in your shock you haven’t noticed how hard he was.

“Kidding, of course,” he drawled.

Anger coloured your face and you punched his shoulder, half seriously. You hissed and shake your still very much wounded hand. You had been duelling partners for a while when you had spent a significant amount of time in the Fortress pretending to be a convict back when you were neither friend nor whatever you were now. He’d only agreed to it at the time because you managed to beat everyone and nearly him.

“You are breathtaking,” he muttered. “Come on let’s get you to Sigewinne.”

He stood and offered you his hand.

Your heart stuttered. Even though you weren’t native to Fontaine you were well-versed in their mother language, but even then, you didn’t believe your ears.

“What?” you asked.

He chuckled again, a deep and hearty sound.

“When will I stop doubting the ears of a seasoned traveler,” he said out loud although it was meant for his ears alone. He must have been mentioning your mutual friend, the blond traveler, and their small pixie pie companion, Paimon. You have been accompanying them on a few commissions and quests here and there, especially through Natlan. Which kept you away from Fontaine for significant periods of time, much to Wriothesley’s silent dismay.

However, he would never keep something so precious away from the light. He tried to keep a pet once—not that you were a pet—but he soon realised that it was wrong to keep something meant to be in the sun away from it. And if he couldn’t do it to a small animal then he definitely couldn’t do that to you. You were a traveller, not even native to Fontaine. Although you have made it clear countless amounts of times that Fontaine is your favourite region; he can’t help but feel like you weren’t meant to be chained to one place. He won’t be your administrator, the fortress won’t be your prison, and he couldn’t imagine keeping you in this cage with him. He refused to, even if his more selfish desires would have you cuffed to his desk where he could gaze upon you forever till you hated him and wished him gone.

“No, I want to talk first,” you said.

“I assure you we can talk after your hand has been seen too.”

“Wriothesley.”

Your tone went straight to his cock. You have never said his name, at least not his face. Even when you’re both around your mutual ‘friends’ you still have only ever called him ‘your grace.’ He wanted to hear you say his name again. He wanted to hear you say his name breathlessly, desperately, whilst you crumbled into each other. He cleared his throat and walked across his office hoping that the distance would stop you from noticing the obvious tent in trousers. He fiddled with the cuffs on his hips to distract himself and pulled at his tie.

“You really should go…to Sigewinne,” he said.

You approached him. He turned away from you facing a bookshelf. You brushed your fingertips to his forearm feeling the chilling aura around his skin. You expected him to pull away, for him to stop you from going past the point of no return, but he didn’t.

“Wriothesley,” you said his name again, this time with a wistful air. You don’t even realise you’re saying it. You never said it; not to him, only to the crisp cold darkness when your back arched on your sheets late into the night.

“Say it again,” he said.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

Your eyes widened as you realised your mistake. You have always tried not to say his name to separate your lustful fantasies from the real man.

He faced you, capturing your gaze and with it your heart too in his glacial eyes that looked so warm. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but obey. His name slipped out in a hushed prayer: “Wriothesley.”

In turn, he said yours; just as quiet, just as wanting.

“You really should go to Sigewinne,” he said and ghosts his thumb along your jaw.

“What if I don’t want to?” you stepped closer. “What if I want to stay right here?”

His expression darkened.

“You shouldn’t,” he said with no bite behind it.

You didn’t budge.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, sounding way more desperate than you intended. Before you could cringe at yourself, he had you caged in his arms, mouth cold against yours. He groaned when you bit down on this bottom lip, and for the first time, you felt his thick erection brush against your stomach.

None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of kissing Wriothesley and any pain in your hand disappeared altogether. He kissed you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth; like you were his last gulp of air before he dissolved into primordial water.

He tugged on your shirt.

“If you don’t take this thing off right now I’m going to rip it,” he said, his breath laboured.

You reached under your shirt, and he helped you slip it over your head. He threw it away and pulled you into another kiss. His hand wrapped in your hair.

You took off his tie and his waistcoat, his usual fur coat was already draped on the back of his large red chair. He stopped you unbuttoning his shirt, shaking his head, trailing kisses along your jaw, and down your neck as he walked you backwards to his desk. He unclasped your bra. He watched it slide down your arms and then tossed it somewhere that was going to be your future you’s problem.

“Up,” he ordered.

You jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck. He grasped the underside of your thighs and placed you down on the free space of his grand desk.

He bit your shoulder, and you moaned out his name in a way that had him almost feral. He lapped at the wound and kissed it. You threw your head back biting down on your lip. He continued leaving kisses and nibbles along your collarbone, slowly lowering until your breasts were under his hungry gaze. You suddenly felt nervous. You wouldn’t say you were insecure in your looks. You knew that your looks were something to behold and of which you were very proud. They’ve come in handy in your many jobs as many times as they have caused unnecessary issues but being under the watchful gaze of Wriothesley felt different… intimate. You tried to bring your hands up to cover yourself. Wriothesley caught your wrists, looking up at you from his crouched position.

“Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

“Wriothesley,” you said.

“If you aren’t comfortable, we can stop,” he assured you, although the words pained him and his dick, consent was king—always. If you weren’t comfortable, he could always sort himself out later. You were the most important thing to him. He let go of your wrists and you dropped them, letting him feast his eyes on your breasts.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“If you change your mind, just tell me and we’ll stop,” he said. “Give me a safe word.”

“Cake,” you instantly responded.

“Cake?” He cocked a brow. “Cake, it is.”

Without a moment spared, he grasped your breasts and planted a kiss there, dragging his lips over your nipples in a way that made you shiver. He smiled to himself at the occasional whimpers that left you; even more pleased that he was the one causing them.

“I love the noises you make. I love your voice. I’m obsessed with it. I wish to capture it and listen to it whenever you’re away,” he groaned.

He dragged his tongue down, further, and further until he was on his knees, he pushed up your skirt that had been bothering him since you crossed your gorgeous legs earlier. He was tempted to have you keep it on when he fucked you, for no other reason than the thought that the next time you decided to wear that poor excuse of a skirt he knew all you would be able to think about was how he messed you up in it. The thought brought him immense pleasure.

 He slid his hands into your shorts, squeezing your thighs. The flimsy piece of black material and whatever surprise underwear beneath it were the only things keeping him from what he wanted. He wanted to taste you. He wanted to feel how you’ll curl on his tongue; he wanted to feel you gripping his hair and screaming his name as he brought you to a high only he could give you.

“These damn shorts,” he grumbled.

“I climb mountains. How else am I going to keep myself comfortable?” you asked.

He tutted and tore them open; the fabric did not put up much of a fight at all.

“I guess you won’t be climbing mountains anytime soon,” he said guiding the torn fabric down your legs.

“Those were my favourites, you brute.”

He winked up at you.

“Ah, I suppose that makes us even,” he drawled.

Was he thinking about that damn teacup right now?

“How are you?” He said, checking in on you.

“Good.”

He smiled and your heart melted a little.

He froze when he took in the sight of your lingerie.

“Were you thinking of me when you bought these?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you said.

“Too late.”

You bit your lip. It hadn’t been intentional, your underwear matching the colour of his eyes. He trailed his nose up the soaked fabric brushing your clit. You grabbed his hair at the stimulation. You felt the beginnings of the scruff threatening to break out of his chin tickling you as he guided your lingerie aside and gave your clit an ardent lick. Wriothesley wasn’t big on savoury treats, but you weren’t savoury, you tasted like you, and you were fast becoming his favourite dessert.

“You taste divine,” he said.

“Oh Archons,” you muttered.

“They won’t hear you down here,” he said.

It didn’t take long before your toes were curling, and you were chanting his name. Wriothesley gripped your thigh with one hand and fingered you with the other, stretching you out in preparation for him; because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you were going to cum around him. He was going to feel the way you would clench around him; he was going to watch your blissed-out face twist as he fucked you hard into his desk. Although he would love to feel you climax on his face there would be time for that. He’d be damned if this was the first and only time he had you. You were his. Morals and reputation be damned, he wanted—no, needed to be inside you. He didn’t care if the entirety of Meropide could hear you; in fact, he got off on the thought.

Just when you felt like you were about to climax, he pulled away and licked his lips. You glared at him as he stood and bent over you kissing you softer than before. You could taste yourself on his lips, and instead of it turning you off it spurred you on. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, grinding against his clothed erection.

“Do you trust me?” he asked between heated kisses.

Everything felt wet like you both were melting, and you probably were. If so, you didn’t care, becoming water wasn’t half bad if it was with him. You heard his cuffs before you saw them spinning around the two fingers that had been inside you.

“Right now, no,” you lied.

He half smiled.

“I suppose I deserve that. I guess I’ll just have to persuade you then.”

You untangled from around him. He stepped back unbuttoning his shirt and revealing lean scar-littered skin. You wanted to reach out and so you did, tracing the long jagged discoloured scars, slightly keloid. Some looked fresher than others. He shivered and breathed out a low groan when you grazed over his nipple. He raised his signature cuffs.

“Give me your wrists,” he said.

It clinked when it secured around both wrists. The spiked metal looked so beautiful against your skin; he was almost tempted to throw away the key.

“Oh no, you’ve caught me, your grace,” you teased. Something you shouldn’t have done because the way he looked at you after told you that you had triggered something in him.

“You did break my favourite teacup after all,” he said.

“I thought we were even.”

You watched him slowly unbuckle his belt and step between your legs. There would be time for savouring the moment later, many moments if he could help it but not then. You felt his erection only covered by the thin fabric of his boxers press against your vagina, he leans over you caging you between his arms and the desk.

“Indeed, we are for breaking.” He nibbled on your ear, “but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. That was an expensive cup you know some flimsy shorts won’t cover the costs. You should know I only play fair, and you got some of the tea on my freshly shined boots.”

Your cuffed hands resting on your stomach fiddled with the lining of his boxers. You lost your breath when he nuzzled into the base of your neck.

“Don’t tease me,” he grunted.

You manage to slip his cock out.

“Says the man who denied me my orgasm.”

You felt his smile on your neck.

He rubbed his cock along your folds but didn’t push in. He wanted to be sure that you’re sure.

“I don’t think friends do this,” he said as he continued to edge your hole.

“Just fuck me already,” you sassed.

He thrust into you, filling you completely. He was thicker than you expected, thicker than you had had before. You couldn’t be more thankful for the earlier foreplay because without it he wouldn’t have fit. He remained still for a while, and you slowly adjusted to his size. The dull ache of the intrusion quickly turned from discomfort to bliss.

“Wriothesley.”

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed. “Don’t stop saying my name.”

You didn’t.

“Good girl,” he said.

The desk jutted, the papers shook, and books slid off the desk smacking the floor in their wake, but the sound was lost to you both. Despite his strong persona, and much to your delight, he didn’t hold back his occasional whimpers, and grunts. The sound blessed your ears like a symphony. Sometime after your first orgasm, he took off the cuffs and threw them to his settee.

He left the occasional bites and kisses on the underside of your jaw, and down to your breasts. You, in turn, added to the long scars down his back, your nails clawing into the flesh. He would treasure those when they scarred.

You guided his face up from your neck, where he had been breathing you in as if he couldn’t get enough of you into his system. In truth, he couldn’t. You kissed him deeply, filling it with all the words you hadn’t yet been able to say. You felt your third climax on the horizon as he hit the same spot that made your back arch.

“Wriothesley,” you said against his mouth. “There.”

He chased your lips.

“That’s it,” he said, rolling his hips. He slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and rubbed your swollen clit. You let out a needy moan.

 “I’ve got you,” he said as you clenched around him.

Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave of primordial water. He held you to him, as he continued to thrust towards his own high, encasing you in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groaned.

 Wriothesley felt like he was on cloud nine. Being with you was entirely different from what he imagined in the best way possible. It felt like a dream having you here, in his arms, pliant to his every desire. In each kiss, he pretended that you felt the same way; that you wanted the same things. He pretended that this moment wasn’t just a moment but forever—because he wanted you forever.

He slowed down prolonging the experience and straightened up looking down at the fucked-out expression on your face. He knew he didn’t look any better. Swiping a hand through his hair, he continued to roll his hip slowly. He placed a hand on your pelvis steadying you. Your body was covered in a sheen of sweat which glistened under the light of the office. He felt like he was melting into you—like you were melting into each other.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered opening your arms for him, beckoning him home. And truly, to him, you felt like home.

He pushed his damp hair back once again, before leaning over you. With a final grunt and a spam of your walls around him, he came. He didn’t pull out right away, wrapping his arms around you as if afraid to let go.

Your thighs were sticky from your combined releases, and your body felt like it had been sitting in a sauna for hours but seeing the rare, satisfied look on his face made it all worth it. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“You owe me new shorts,” you said.

“I’ll buy you as many shorts as your heart desires,” he uttered, tiredly.

“Really?”

He hummed and nodded slowly.

“Good because I think I’m going to need a lot of them if you’re going to rip them off every time,” you said causing him to perk up. “You know to repay for the teacup.”

“Oh?”

“Unless this was a one-time thing then—“you hesitated.

He kissed you again, unable to hide his smile.

“Next time let’s use my bed.”

“I’d like that,” you said.

He tried to intertwine your hands, but you winced when he brushed against the forming boil.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to Sigewinne, for real this time.”

“First, can we have a cup of tea?” you asked.

He laughed. Of course, you wanted to have tea. He could do with some tea too; he was famished after all. He laid a kiss on your forehead and made a mental note to send Clorinde an extra box of his finest tea.

“Of course, first let's clean up and then we'll have tea. I promise, but don’t spill it this time.”

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[justanotherlifeff]

Love is meaningless

[True form heian era Sukuna x reader. I may have taken many creative liberties with his backstory alongside certain spoilers so be warned!]

Love is meaningless, this was something Sukuna believed for most of his life. He can proclaim it precisely because he understands it. Being born a wretched curse by his foolish starving mother was not a start to life he had appreciated, but it was what it was. Fate was that he absorbed his twin for nourishment, fate was that he was born monstrous. One can only live with fate and become stronger, after all. Of course, he had to raise himself, of course he had to get stronger to survive. The golden age of Jujutsu meant many other cursed spirits, and of course, humans were no better. Weak people shouldn’t complain about their transgressions after all. That is simply how the world is built, to please the strong.

Yet, unexpected things happen, as it is part of life as well. Some people find it in their stupid, human, hearts to love a monster. And sometimes, something as meaningless as love creeps up in a monster’s heart too if they are weak enough. Sukuna wasn’t born the king of curses after all. It was a meaningless gesture that one might call kindness, something he believed that he didn’t deserve, that started it all. Just like his mother who birthed him, this foolish girl gave him an apple from her basket when he was starving. A foolish act of kindness from a human to a cursed being. He accepted nonetheless, as a starving man would, since this was before the days when he took whatever he wanted.

The days when he was weak enough to be considerate. For some reason, you kept coming back, with food every time, and for some reason, he didn’t leave the outskirts of that village after the first few encounters. He convinced himself that it was because your cooking was amazing, not because he wanted to see that smile on your face again, not because he was getting addicted to that kindness. Why would a human be kind to the likes of him after all? Surely, he was being delusional. However, weeks turned to months, and you wouldn’t stop visiting the small cave where he was living at, since no one would give him shelter or a job due to his monstrous features. Somehow you weren’t afraid of the four arms, the four eyes, the odd markings on his body. Somehow, you made conversation with him at one point as you watched him eagerly eat whatever food you brought him and somehow, he found himself replying. Hope was something that the weak shouldn’t have and yet, he found it in you, he made that mistake.

Looking at water in streams was something he hated, because it showed him his inhumanity and made the struggles he faced his entire life be something that was acceptable. Who would care for a monster after all? And yet, one day, you looked at him and called him beautiful with a blush on your pretty little face. He didn’t know how to reply to that, as someone who never encountered a situation like that before and yet, he couldn’t sleep all night, thinking of those words. He awkwardly called you beautiful too the next day.

Small compliments turned into teasing and at one point, neither you nor he had to say it out loud that you loved each other. It was simply something that happened. However, you had to keep it a secret from the village, and he understood why. Loving something like him had its consequences as they would kill you for being with a curse. He understood the consequences but his hunger for you was far too much to ignore. It started with kisses, and then he wanted more, so much more. And you let him take what he wanted with a smile on your face, that same smile he fell in love with. Even your old kimonos started looking like ones that queens would wear, your simple hairpin was better than the highest quality jade to him. You were beautiful and you were his and that was the best thing that happened in his wretched life at the time. Or at least, he was foolish and weak enough to believe so.

During his days as the king of curses, he saw the women he fucked as no more than pieces of meat that exist for his pleasure. One might think he wasn’t capable of being gentle, of having any other expression than the ruthless and deranged smile that adorns his face. Yet, his first time was so different, as he looked upon your beauty with nothing but wonder in his eyes, not believing his own luck as you were naked underneath him, that beautiful tint of red adorning your face. Perhaps that was when he found himself loving the color red so much, it was never about the blood of the thousands he killed later in life. You looked beautiful even with your old kimonos, but you looked divine without it, and he wasn’t shy enough to keep that opinion to himself, mostly because he wanted to see that blush on your face when he says it out loud. He wanted to hear you call out his name in that affectionate and yet pleasured voice when he was deep inside you. He wanted you, all of you, even if he didn’t deserve you.

The weak gets trampled on, it isn’t something they should complain about as it is the way of life. He almost had you, the day you came to him with a worried expression on your face and told him that you may be expecting his child. For a moment, he dreamed, despite being weak. He asked you to elope with him, that he would protect you. He knew that the child he sired would be cursed too, and that you were unmarried, so of course, overall, you would be killed if he left you alone. He loved you far too much to even consider that. “Come with me, Ill take you far from here and protect you. I’ll make sure nothing hurts you or our child. I’ll get stronger for you.” He told you with that gruff tone of his. To his surprise, you agreed. However, you were a kind little thing full of hope. You wanted to see your parents one last time before leaving with him forever. He didn’t understand it, but he wanted you to be happy, so he suggested making a binding vow. A part of him felt wary as all these felt too good to be true.

The vow was simple, it was to live as long as you can. He was still new to forming binding vows, so he forgot to acknowledge the fact that breaking the vow didn’t mean much if someone else killed you. Only that your death would be far more painful. Things were peaceful, too peaceful. He ate the food you cooked him, talked with you about a future together, looked at the sun set together. Like every day, you left him after that with a kiss on his cheek. Yet, he felt uneasy enough to sneak near the village that night after hearing the commotion.

It didn’t take long to find you, as you were right there, in the middle of the village square, or at least your severed head was. The blood splattered everywhere indicated the effects of the binding vow, your entire body exploded when your head was cut. Perhaps you were weak and ended up telling your parents, perhaps somehow, they found out that you were pregnant with his child, he would never know. That village burned that night and not a single person there survived. As he stood there, watching whatever was left of you burn with the village, it was almost as if he achieved enlightenment. The weak shouldn’t complain, so he wasn’t complaining. He would get stronger so that he would be the one taking, to fill the void that was created this day. His hunger was endless because he would never eat the food you cook again. Love is meaningless, because without you, this world lost its meaning.

[fandomxpreferences]

Caught In the Crossfire

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Pairing: JJ Maybank x female!reader (both over 18)

TW: violence and guns, blood, injury, angst, I think thats it

Summary: JJ has sworn to protect you no matter what, but sometimes you give him a run for his money.

Word Count:2.6k

Ever since you were kids, JJ has been protective over you. But since the two of you started dating, it only amplified. He's been in more fights than you can count just because a man looked at you wrong and he almost drove you to the hospital over a stubbed toe one night because he was that worried. 

He insists that it's not just his job to look out for you, but his privilege. Truthfully you're not complaining. However, that's not to say you can't take care of yourself. Anyone who really knows you knows that you're not to be fucked with. 

When it comes to your friends, and especially JJ, you've been known to make reckless decisions if they're in danger. You and JJ only have each other, and there's nothing that either of you wouldn't do for the other. 

He's been a constant in your life since you were four years old, and the two of you have found solace in each other over the years amid your shitty home lives. It's no secret that you'd take a bullet for each other, he stepped in front of a shotgun that was pointed at you once. 

Which is exactly why you're in your current situation.

This whole thing is stupid, honestly. Barry got some bad intel, now convinced that one of you stole from him again. You may not be the brightest group, but you're not dumb. You wouldn't make that mistake twice. 

"Give me my fucking money, or somebody is going to die." 

Barry's voice is hoarse as he screams and your wide eyes lock with Sarah's. Everyone has their hands up defensively, and you stand helplessly next to Kie and Sarah as John B tries to de-escalate. 

"Barry, we didn't do it. I swear." 

The man isn't willing to listen to reason and time moves in slow motion as he pulls out a black handgun and points it directly at John Bs chest. You vaguely register Sarah screaming to your right but you're frozen in place as everything unfolds. 

That is until you see JJ step up. He puts his body between the barrel and his friend, standing less than ten feet away. A wicked smile overtakes Barry's face and your stomach drops.

"Looks like we have a volunteer." 

It's like a movie as the world seems to stop spinning, and that protective instinct takes over. You see the switch in Barry's eyes and your gaze darts to his finger twitching on the trigger. He's going to pull it this time. 

Your fight or flight takes control, and you've never been one to run. Within seconds you're shoving JJ behind you. He's taken off guard, unable to stop you despite his notable size advantage. Turns out that when you're flooded with adrenaline you have hulk strength. 

Barry chuckles darkly and tilts his head to the side. 

"Makes no difference to me." 

You're fighting JJ now, the two of you shoving against each other. He's about to pick you up and move you, but it's too late. It's only a span of maybe twenty seconds between you stepping forward and the flash of the muzzle. 

Everything happens so fast, it takes you a moment for your brain to catch up. There's a loud bang that causes your ears to ring, followed by a searing pain in your abdomen. Everything stops for a moment as Barry speeds off and the group processes. 

Nobody realizes you've been shot you realize; they're all breathing sighs of relief and talking about how scary it was. In their defense, you're standing still like you're okay and not screaming the way you always imagined you would if you were shot.

"Thank god his aim is shit." John B jokes, and everyone but you laughs.

Sarah and JJ seem to notice at the same time, their eyes widening in concern as they stare at you. It's only been thirty seconds, not enough time for the damage to fully reveal itself to them. 

Your hand comes down to your stomach as you feel something warm and you stare down at your blood-covered fingers. Your brain is struggling to keep up, unable to formulate a response to your now panicked boyfriend. 

"Baby, are you okay?" 

You're turned sideways, angled just enough that he can't fully see you. You always thought something like this would be more dramatic; maybe take more time. Turns out, it only takes about two minutes. 

JJ hasn't even had a chance to lovingly scold you for putting yourself in harm's way. You feel like you've been standing still with warm blood seeping through your shirt for hours, but in reality, it's only been a minute and a half. 

Sarah goes to reiterate the question, but you're not listening. Your ears are ringing; from the gunshot or blood loss, you aren't sure. JJ watches as you sway a bit and his entire world comes crashing down as your knees give out and you collapse in a heap. 

JJ is on the ground next to you in an instant, the rest of the group quickly following when they realize something is wrong. 

His eyes are swimming with fear as he looks you over and bile creeps up his throat when he sees the crimson liquid pooling on the ground around you. 

What ensues next is nothing short of chaos as JJ cradles your head and starts barking orders. 

"JB put pressure on that! Sarah, call 911 and tell them we need an ambulance. Pope, Kie, go find anything we can use to slow the bleeding!" 

Everyone scrambles to do as he says, not daring to question the man or hesitate for even a second. You've never seen JJ in such an intense situation, and the way he completely takes control with an even voice takes you by surprise. 

You cling to the thought as you try to stay awake and wonder how much worse this will hurt when the adrenaline wears off. 

You feel your eyes getting heavy, and despite your best efforts to pry them open they still start to flutter. You're hit with the realization that you're dying in the arms of the man you love, and a tear slips out the corner of your eye.

There's so much to do; you're not ready to go.

"Hey, I need you to stay with me, baby. Keep your eyes open for me."

You blink a couple of times, trying to fight off the blackness encroaching on your vision. 

"I'm trying."

Your voice is weak; JJ can tell you're using all your strength just to mutter out the two simple words. He gives you a watery smile as salty tears drip onto your face. 

"I know, you're doing so good." 

Your lip quirks up a bit and his heart soars, false hope filling his chest. 

"I'm gonna miss you. Will you miss me?"

Despite being only half conscious, the words come out crystal clear and JJ kisses the back of your hand. 

"I'd miss you so much, but we don't have to worry about that okay? You're gonna be fine and we're gonna live a long happy life together. They'll kick us out of the nursing home."

Your sight is blurry now as you stare up at him, and your body is trembling violently. 

"I'm scared."

JJ chokes down a sob and kisses your sweat-covered forehead. 

"I know, sweet girl. I'm right here, you're going to be okay. I'll keep you safe."

He can barely speak now as his throat closes up and he notices you go limp. 

"Y/N? Baby squeeze my hand, give me something. Anything."

He's begging and when you don't respond, all his composure falls away. Kie is back with a hand full of towels and JJ checks the pulse on your neck, barely feeling it against his fingertips. 

"Kie, do CPR!" 

She does as she's told and JJ can faintly hear sirens approaching. He watches your face for any sign of life and shoves Kie to the side when he finds none. 

"You're not doing it hard enough!"

All of his training from being a lifeguard two summers ago comes rushing back as he puts his weight on your diaphragm. 

"JJ, you gotta stop man."

Pope and Sarah are trying to pull him off as he openly sobs now, every muscle in his body straining against their hold. 

"I can't lose her!"

His arms cradle your body as he holds you to his chest, wails ripping from his lungs. 

"Please wake up. I still need you."

He doesn't even register the ambulance pulling up before he's ripped away from you. He watches as they work on you and load you up into the back before speeding off. 

Everyone is quick to hop in the Twinkie, taking off like a bat out of hell in the direction of the hospital. 

JJ is crying into Kie's shoulder in the backseat, everyone battling their own sorrow and tears. 

His hands feel sticky as your blood dries on them and he's suddenly painfully aware of the rust-colored stains littering his entire body and clothes. He can smell the metallic scent of iron and it makes his stomach turn.

JJ doesn't even wait for the car to stop before jumping out and sprinting into the ER. He's sure he looks like a madman with crazed eyes and blood-stained skin, but he doesn't care. 

If you die, you'll have sacrificed yourself to save him. That's simply not knowledge he's capable of living with, and he needs to know you're going to be okay. 

The receptionist looks like a deer caught in headlights as her eyes rake over his form and he skips the niceties altogether. 

"I'm here for my girlfriend, she was just brought in with a gunshot wound."

His words slur as he blurts them out and after a second she puts it together and gives him a sympathetic look. 

"She's in emergency surgery, sir. There's no update yet, I'm sorry." 

His hands slam against the counter and the woman who looks to be only a couple years older than him flinches.

"That's not good enough!"

She's about to respond when he feels a pair of hands on his shoulders yanking him back. 

"I'm sorry about him, he's under a lot of stress."

She nods with a weary smile and John B forces him over to a chair. 

"You're not doing anyone any good if you get kicked out."

It's dark by the time a doctor comes with any news, several hours having passed. 

As soon as he hears your name called, JJ leaps to his feet and rushes over. 

"Are you the boyfriend?"

JJ nods and the doctor sighs. 

"She lost a lot of blood. The bullet just barely missed an artery, a millimeter to the left and this would be a different conversation. We did a transfusion and were able to repair the damage. She's got a long road to recovery, but she'll be just fine."

JJ nearly collapses at the revelation and he feels four pairs of hands holding him up. 

"Applying pressure to the wound and providing CPR saved her life. You did good, son."

JJ nods, unable to speak and John B asks what they're all thinking. 

"Can we see her?"

The doctor ponders for a moment before nodding. 

"It's after visiting hours but given the circumstance, I'll make an exception. Only one of you though. The rest can come back at 8 am during regular hours."

It doesn't even need to be discussed and JJ follows the man silently. Nerves claw at his throat as he nears a door and he mentally prepares for what's on the other side. 

Part of him thinks this is a cruel joke and that you're really gone. He won't be able to breathe until he sees you with his own two eyes.

"She's still unconscious. She'll probably be disoriented when she wakes up, but we've got her on heavy painkillers. She shouldn't feel much discomfort."

The doctor pats him on the back before leaving and he takes a deep breath while pushing the heavy door open. 

Relief washes over him when he sees your sleeping figure on the bed. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he just walked into your room while you were napping. 

His eyes take in your appearance and fresh tears sting his waterline.

Your face looks peaceful but there's oxygen in your nose and IVs sticking out of your bruised arms. 

All things considered, you don't look too bad but his heart still breaks. Guilt eats at him and in typical JJ fashion, he blames himself. 

He should have known you'd try to interfere and stopped you. He failed at his one-sworn duty, and it almost got you killed.

His hand laces with yours as he sits in the chair at your bedside. He lets his head rest against your arm and just memorizes your scent and the feeling of your soft skin. 

Even though the strong aroma of iodine and hand sanitizer you still smell like cotton candy. 

He almost lost this. And he can't fathom never hearing your laugh again or seeing the way your nose scrunches when you get frustrated with him. 

He dozes off and a few hours later he's awoken by your body shifting under him. He wipes the drool from his mouth and looks up to see your eyes moving rapidly. 

He's watched you sleep enough times to know you're about to wake up and leans up to kiss your forehead. 

You blink a few times trying to place your whereabouts. The room is still dark because of the curtains, but you know it's foreign. 

The sterile tinge of alcohol burns your nose and your face scrunches up when you feel all the wires attached to you. 

"Am I in the hospital?"

Your voice is raspy from lack of water and JJ nods. 

"Yeah, you gave us quite a scare."

You roll your eyes playfully, and JJ thinks that even in the pale light coming from the machines you look ethereal.

"You know me, I've got a flair for the dramatics. Gotta keep it interesting."

JJ lets out a laugh and you smile brightly at the man you love. 

A thick air covers the two of you and you squeeze his hand. 

"I was so scared. I thought you were going to die."

Your heart clenches at how small he sounds and your hand reaches up to cup his cheek. 

"I'm sorry. I don't regret doing it, but I do regret causing you pain."

His head turns to press his lips to your palm and he lingers for a moment before pulling back just slightly. 

"I'm not mad. It's my job to protect you, just maybe don't give me so much overtime."

He has a teasing smile on his face and you can't help but laugh. It's silent for a beat before you speak again. 

"This place is definitely haunted."

JJ stares at you for a moment and chuckles.

"Oh, for sure."

He pauses for a second then lurches forward. 

"Boo!"

You gasp and slap his arm, playful disapproval on your face. 

"Don't do that!"

You're interrupted by a knock on the door and look over. 

"Hey, there she is!"

You're greeted by the rest of the pogues and open your arms for a hug. They each take turns embracing you, being careful of your injuries, and take a seat. 

"So, did you see a white light?"

Sarah kicks John B with a scolding glare and you giggle.

"It's okay. No, mostly just blinding pain and then darkness."

JJ looks down and you can tell it's hard for him to hear. 

"Enough about that, tell me something funny."

The group dissolves into conversation and laughter, a smile on your face as you look at your found family. 

"I'm so happy you're okay." JJ whispers and you look over at him. 

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Maybank."

[rheiple]

He's Super Shy, Super Shy

-OneShot

▪︎SUMMARY↦ You’d think he’s avoiding you, but if he is then why is he watching you?

▪︎WARNING/s↦ None

▪︎CHARACTER/s↦ Moon, Reader, lil bits of Sun

▪︎WORD COUNT↦ 1769

▪︎AUTHOR'S NOTE↦ This Fic is inspired by the song called “Talk to you” by Ricky Montgomery. You should check out his other songs to, it’s such a banger!!

There he goes again, leaving him to talk to you.

Moon, as quiet as a mouse, lifted himself up with his trusty hook and stayed at the ceiling. He observed how his Sunny counter part keeps chatting your ears off. You don’t seem to mind though, even butting in sometimes to speak out your thoughts.

He lets out a quiet sigh. He admires Sun, being able to socialize with anyone, and everyone liking his extroverted personality. He may be a clean freak, but he’s also very creative. Having no trouble to talk to anyone with anything on his mechanical mind. He likes that.

He also wished he had that ability.

At first, he didn’t really care. He had no one to talk to besides his other half. Almost everyone is scared to talk to him, much less even be in his presence. It stings, but just a little bit. It’s not like socializing is a necessity anyways.

His ruby eyes scanned your unique features. Unintentionally saving every detail to his data bank.

You… You make it seem like a need.

He noticed that your quite a chatter box whenever you “talk" to him during his repairs. The first time he met you. When he accidentally fell really high up, because his cable snapped. He had to shut down his body to save some energy. However he could still hear whatever's happening to his surroundings. He could also feel sensations, able to identify something that touched him. He felt like he had what you humans call a ‘coma’.

At first he was angered at being rough handled by a bunch of sweaty, and possibly grimy old hands. Getting strapped at what he knows is the cylinder repair station. He heard them talking, more so complaining about their job. But then they eventually got out.

It was silent for a moment, until a sound of someone entering the chamber ruined the quietness.

He didn’t expected to have gentle hands cupping his face.

He surprised himself that he welcomed the feeling of their soft and warm palms.

“Oh you poor guy. I’ll get you fixed in no time!”

He wanted to follow their hands again. He heard clicks and clanks of tools they needed to use. He felt their hands on his chest plate, opening up his case to replace it.

He didn’t really knew what happened after that. Floating in and out of consciousness because he was almost out of energy. He wanted to save up just so he could at least see you and maybe meet you again sometime. He could only bask in to your careful touch.

Time flies so fast he noticed. He was instantly greeted with darkness when he gained control on his body. He looks at the human responsible of fixing him.

….Hmm, how peculiar.

He’d never seem you before, are you perhaps a new hire? He doesn’t have your information yet. Are you only a mechanic that they called in?

He gave his face plate a little spin. And he sees you grinning triumphantly at the action. With your hands on your hips and your chest puffed up, you proudly boasted about your handiwork. You introduced yourself to him. Funny human. Why bother telling him your name, isn’t he just a bot to you? You even held out your hand for him to shake.

You’re strange. But he likes it for some reason. Maybe it’s because he is also weird.

He amused you by shaking your hand, and telling you his name.

“Moon huh? Classic name.”

“..Thank you..”

A ringtone emits from your best pocket. He turned his face plate upside down.

He waited for you to bid your goodbye to someone on the phone. And you looked at him with a smile. “Well Moon, you’re good to go! You’re cable is already getting worked on. I hope to see you around!”

He watched you left him for the outside.

He needed to know, after encountering you he waited and waited, hoped even to get to meet you again. Every time you enter this Plex he observed you during his free time. He wanted to know if you remembered what you told him. But did you even remembered him? He hoped so.

There are times you take a glance inside the Daycare. And he would be also there, but he’s hiding from you instead of approaching you, like what his brother self is doing.

He doesn’t understand himself. Why is he hesitant on approaching you? Is it because he’s afraid? Of what exactly, you’re the one who had the guts to act casual with him on your first meeting. So why?

Now that he thought hard about it, he… Didn’t know what to say if he were to come up at you. He doesn’t think you’d appreciate it if he just, stared at you. What do people say to start conversations? How’s the weather down there? Real nice.

He decided, it’d be much better to just admire you from afar like right now to save the both of you from his awkwardness.

He looks at Sun with a slight frown. While he admired his alter self, he also couldn’t help but envy him at the same time. He was given the ability to be a natural talker, he wished that they could’ve just have the same personality chip, so instead of watching the two of you he’d be also there at the table. Chatting along with you two.

He saw you bidding farewell, the other doing at same, but with a hug. His hands twitched, wanting to hug you like he did.

The solar animatronic went to the Daycare, and the lunar bot followed suit.

Upon opening the Daycare doors, He called out to him to come down the ceiling. He obliged as they noticed that the Daycare is in a messy state.

He focused on wiping down the kiddie tables with a clean wet range while he stacked up those big cylinder blocks. “So… when are ya stop acting like creep and start talking to them like a normal person?”

Moon clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I don’t appreciate being insulted.”

“Oh c'mon! But you know it’s true! Aren’t you tired of waiting for them to come up to you to talk to you? Make the first move! All you have to do is greet them, ask how they’ve been, and then ask about whatever you want to know about them. It’s easy as one, two, three – even a toddler would be able to follow!”

He grumbled, tucking in the chair. “Not as easy as you think it is…”

Sun lets out a tired sigh. “I could help you by introducing you to them, but then I’ll leave you two be. I’ll watch over you two from afar, to coach you up if you think you need help! How does that sound Moonie?”

The moon lets out a thoughtful hum. He, wasn’t sure if he’ll be able to do well. But he supposes it’s better than just watching. Going out of his comfort zone doesn’t sound so bad if it means being able to be friends with you.

He decided, rather than letting fate decide he’ll control it, just to meet you soon.

.

.

.

He can’t do it.

He’ll just let fate decide when you two could meet again, he wouldn’t mind waiting for years to happen. He’s a patient bot, he has the patience of a saint just for you.

He could feel the force from his back, that force being Sun trying to push him towards you. Who’s currently eating at one of the benches at the cafeteria.

Sun grunted in annoyance. “hngg, it’s now or never Moonie. Just go talk to them already!”

He pushed himself back just as harder. “You told me you’ll introduce me to them!...” He whispered yelled.

“I have to go help Vanessa- to-to locate a lost kid at arcade!”

“..Let’s switch..”

With all his might, he put all of his energy into pushing him. ”No!..Yo-you go talk to them..now!”

…

You saw him walking towards you. Well, it wasn’t really walking, it’s like someone pushed him towards you. You didn’t see who it was, but you guessed it was another animatronic. There’s no way a human would be able to push him that hard.

He sees your eye widen. “Moon was it? Good day to you.”

The tall animatronic fiddled with his hat.

“..Likewise..”

There was a pause for a moment, but you broke it by asking if he wanted to take a seat beside you. He seemed so nervous. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t found it cute. He took a seat beside you and you began eating your lunch.

…It was quiet, yet you didn’t mind. You didn’t want to talk while your mouth was full. Moon however, seem to be on edge with the silence. You asked him if he’s alright, and he said he was fine. His tense slowly faded away as time passed.

He only waited for you to finish your food. When you bit off the last bits of your lunch, you went to drink fizzy faz you bought earlier. Seeing this as the right time, he asked you how your day went, and you responded well. You asked his day was going and he replied the same thing.

You asked him how his job is being a daycare attendant, and he replied with honesty. Telling you how most of the time it was ok, but the rest of the time it was very difficult.

As time went on, he noticed that you were taking the lead of the conversation. Did you noticed that he was nervous talking to you? You don’t seem to mind his quiet nature. He feels relaxed just by just being the listener between the two of you.

He made a witty comment on your story, and his circuits heated up when you laughed in joy. “Haha! I didn’t know you had that in ya Moonie!”

He too didn’t know. But he knows it’s because of you. He made you laugh, it was so pretty. It’s like having the same feeling of a fan hearing their favorite singer sing. Is this what Sun felt when he makes everyone around them smile brightly? He wanted this to last.

…

Seeing you and him chatting away, Sun puffed his chest out in pride. “Ugh!...Finally, now that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Vanessa called for his assistance with carrying two big loaded carts. She asked him what was he talking about.

“Oh nothin’! Just cheering on a fool in love!”

“...Right.”

[idyllic-affections]

i’m thinking about kaveh first dropping off his kid in ghandarva ville. he did a good job explaining to them that he’ll be back before they know it and that he’ll alway be there for them. before he leaves he feels little hands clutching onto his leg as they just whisper “you promise you’re gonna come back? you won’t leave me, right? you promise you won’t leave me?”

i'll be back.

summary. kaveh finds the strength to leave his child in gandharva ville.

trigger & content warnings. fear of abandonment, references to kaveh's backstory.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. comfort, soft angst. adoptive dad!kaveh & child!reader. 0.9k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. wow you just woke up today and chose gentle violence huh anon /LH i love soft angst. hard angst? yeah, it definitely hurts, but soft angst like this? idk. it hits different sometimes!!!

kaveh did not want to resort to this. he didn't.

the architect truly, sincerely had tried his very best to think of any alternate solutions—maybe he could convince alhaitham to give [name] a chance? no, caring for a child he impulsively decided to pick up off the streets isn't his roommate's responsibility and it really never would be unless the scribe himself decided to take it on, but some people have spontaneous changes of heart! why would alhaitham be any different?

(unfortunately, said man was not going to budge anytime soon. a child would disrupt the comfortable life he had put so much effort into building. kaveh had no choice but to accept that fact. well, really, he knew from the beginning! he was just hoping alhaitham might change.)

in the end, he managed to come up with nothing. he could not think of a single good or attainable option that would allow him to keep them. as much as he hated to admit it, only alhaitham's solution was a viable and reasonable one.

so, here he is, standing in front of tighnari's home in gandharva ville motionlessly with his child held securely in his arms. there were no words in any language that kaveh knew of that could describe what he was feeling. he wordlessly rubs soothing circles on their back.

the silence is impossibly loud.

tighnari does not rush him. he does not so much as even think of complaining. he simply waits quietly with collei at his side, the girl bouncing on her heels slightly in a nervous fidget. she wants to be a good caretaker to [name]; tighnari knows the prospect alone of having to care for them is making her nervous.

kaveh's slightly wavering voice finally breaks the silence:

"you know why i have to leave you here, right?"

they nod quietly, little hands clenched in fists raising up to rub at their watery eyes with their palms—they hope it looks like they're tired and not like they're about to cry, which they are. they hope he doesn't know they're about to cry. they hope he just thinks they're tired from the long journey. they hope he doesn't know the truth.

kaveh knows, of course.

he doesn't say anything about it, though, and only tries to swallow back his own emotions. he tries his best to repress the nauseous feeling stirring in his gut. he tries his best to repress the crawling of his skin. he tries his best to repress the thoughts that this is so impossibly wrong, so impossibly cruel of him.

he hasn't known this child for long, but...

he felt like he was abandoning them.

he felt like he was abandoning his flesh and blood.

absentmindedly, kaveh wondered if this was how his mother felt when she left to fontaine. he hopes not. this feeling is vile. he wouldn't wish it upon his worst enemy.

"and you also know that i'm going to come back all the time to see you, right? and i'm always going to be here if you need me?"

their voice cracks slightly. "yeah."

it's not at all that kaveh doesn't trust tighnari and collei; he does, and he knows they'll take good care of [name], but... still. he wants to be the one taking care of them. he wants to keep them.

he can't.

kaveh then kneels down, and their heart sinks in to the pit of their stomach, despite the fact that they already knew this was inevitably going to happen. just as they dreaded, he sets them down onto their own two feet.

they're reluctant to release their tiny grip from his shirt, but they do so regardless of their hesitance. a slight whimper rises in their throat when kaveh's warmth is gone from them.

kaveh hasn't ever really had to comfort children before.

he's... not sure what to do from here, quite frankly, so he does the first thing that comes to mind.

he leans forward, pressing the smallest, most hesitant of kisses to the crown of their head.

then, he stands up.

he doesn't get very far before one of their little hands is clutching his pant leg, and he inhales sharply, turning back to face them. "[name]..."

kaveh cuts himself off.

their eyes are wide, glittering with the sheen of unshed tears, and their bottom lip is split and cracked—they've either been picking at it or biting it, kaveh notes. how did he not notice before?

in their moment of sadness and stress, their accent peeks through a bit more heavily. it's in a shaky voice on the brink of breaking that they ask, "you promise you're gonna come back, right? you won't leave me, will you?"

...

kaveh earnestly believes he might cry about this when he gets home. oh well. alhaitham will simply have to deal with it.

for now, though, he doesn't cry. he can't.

the architect kneels back down to their height, wiping away the single tear that slid down their cheek with his calloused fingertips. "of course."

"you— you're not gonna leave me, right? you're not leaving me?"

"no. never. i promise, okay?" he whispers. "i'm here, okay? i'm always here if you need me. you just need to tell tighnari. he'll tell me you asked for me and i'll come back here. anytime."

kaveh briefly wonders if he'll regret making such a promise—his clients may suffer if they ask for him at a bad time—but then again...

he can't really say he ever will, not with the way they look at him with such vulnerable trust.

he can't regret it when they're putting their damaged trust into his hands.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[akutasoda]

Hey, continue with Sunday and Noelle reader, please?

Reader is selfless all the time, the fact you’re willing to help and save people, ignore your health and keep get hurt.

This can be the reason why Reader never pass to be the Cloud Knight member… I think Sunday find this reason when he talk to your guardian.

“The Cloud Knight do need someone that can protect the Xianzhou… but they don’t need someone who don’t care about their health and keep hurt.. or worst, death..”

i thought you believed in me

synopsis - he gave you an opportunity and now he'd ripped it away from you

includes - sunday

warnings - gn!reader, reader is based on noelle, angst no comfort, small blood mention, wc - 871

a/n: a continuation of this

taglist - @teddirika, @frankiesteinn, @little-miss-chaoss

when sunday had first proposed you that job, you didn't quite know exactly what he had wanted you to do. all he had said was something about 'helping those curious enough to get lost in the corrupt parts of the dreamscape'. however it turns out it wasn't so much a new job as more as it was an additional shift. after you're shift as a tour guide, you would be payed to enter those corrupt parts of the dreamscape and look for any guests (or stowaways) who has slipped further into the dreamscape.

you were grateful for the extra pay and so you didn't complain but sometimes it reminded you to much of the cloud knights. all you could imagine is the cloud knights doing the same patrols and protecting xianzhou civilians from the mara struck. you tried your absolute hardest to push it to the back of your mind and get by with your job to focus on your new life.

arguably, this attitude would land you in much more trouble than what you thought. you're desperate attempts to rid yourself of any remaining memories of the cloud knight had admittedly caused a major amount of carelessness. not so much to those you rescued but to yourself - you would overcommit to ensuring the safety of those in the dreamscape and in turn, would put yourself in too much danger than necessary.

sunday couldn't even count on both his hands the amount of times you had escorted an unfortunate guest into his office, for the sake of making sure they keep quiet, with your clothes bloodied and looking like you were on the verge of unconsciousness. he worried that maybe this job had been too much to ask of you but everyone know their limits right?

it didn't take very long for sunday to start thinking about what caused you to be so careless about your new duties. he may of had his crow start following you and it was to confirm his suspicions that you were only reckless when it came to putting your life on the line if it meant saving someone else. he decided that maybe approaching you directly wasn't the greatest course of action as you seemed so dedicated to your job that he knew he wouldn't be able to get through to you, and so he settled for a close companion of yours.

due to you not being from penacony you didn't actually have anywhere to stay when you first arrived - sure there was the reverie but you couldn't pay to stay there forever. fortunately, you had become acquainted with someone who was a local and they allowed you to room with them. you two had grown very close due to this and they were currently the only person in penacony who knew of you're real home and story. sunday figured that they would be the best person to ask.

and he was right. after a few questions and a little help from the power of the harmony, sunday had figured out that it was this same reckless behaviour that had caused your initial rejection from the cloud knights. it know made sense as to why they hadn't utilised your immense abilities in combat. knowing how to fight was one thing, but knowing how to take care of yourself in the process was a completely different thing - you had only mastered one of those.

practically everywhere would have some form of security or protection, the cloud knights were the xianzhou's. they would need someone who can hold their own in battle and still manage to keep themselves safe and this was also the requirement in penacony.

it pained sunday to even decide that he was going to force you back into being just a tour guide. you had done an excellent job with the task he assigned you but he wouldn't stand for you being so reckless about your health in the process. sunday knew that rejection from a similar setting was what had forced you to leave your home originally and he didn't want you to feel the same way when he informed you - especially because he offered you the job in the first place.

but he knew it had to be done, he couldn't risk you dying to the meme's in the distorted memory zones because of your own carelessness. sunday would assure you over and over that you were to keep you're job as a tour guide but he'd prefer you not keep up the extra work. suddenly it felt like that dreaded day all over again.

you hadn't really known what sunday could want to talk to you about but you would've preferred anything but this. your face immediately fell and the rejection hit hard. how could you lose a job that had been offered to you? surely you didn't mess up that bad? and as cruel as it felt, sunday was kind of glad he'd forced you away from the danger - or atleast until you could learn to look after yourself properly and learn that the sacrifices you made weren't needed.

[lunaencantada]

Last week I was able to watch Wish and I'm really sad because I was ready to defend the film. It does its job, it entertained me for a while, I had a great time with King Magnifico, I love the design of Queen Amaya (hehe Dama of Elche inspired) and of Asha, the star is cute….

But.

With each passing day, the more disappointed I am with the film. I understand the idea, but I don't like the execution. My only interest is the villain, and I don't even know if we can call him that: he's a man who suffered a traumatic experience as a young child and has built a kingdom trying to protect his people and his dreams. Yes, he's a narcissist and obviously his motivation is not entirely good (he seeks recognition from others and stuff), but he's doing his job and people are giving him their wishes because they want to, not against their will.

There is a new element in the equation (the star) that could take all this away from him, perhaps repeating the destruction of his first home. It is his greatest fear, which is why he does not grant most wishes. What if something bad happens. What if they use it against us. Trauma. In a desperate moment he turns to a book that we later learn corrupts you or whatever you want to call it, there's no turning back. Asha creates the villain of her story, who otherwise wouldn't have wanted to do any of that.

But the worst thing for me was looking for a picture of Magnifico and Amaya when they were young to show a friend something and confusing him with Ballister from Nimona. And that's when something clicked in my head.

Disney was making Nimona. Disney was making it and they cancelled the film. Did Disney STEAL the designs they were using for Nimona to use them for Wish?

Is the fact that Nimona was finally going to be released the reason why there are so many changes from concept art to final product? Amaya can't be bad because, hm, what separates her from The Director then? People have complained that Magnifico's eyes are too big, hm, I wonder who has been praised these past few months for their big puppy eyes.

And the star. It was a shapeshifter boy. A goddamn shapeshifter.

And I was browsing the art book and. IS THAT AN OTTER.

WHO I KNOW WHO IS ALSO A SHAPESHIFTER WHO IS SOMETIMES AN OTTER?

Of course I have no complaints about the people who have worked on the film, the art teams, animators, etc. I'm sure they worked hard and it looks like the people at the top made decisions and then they had to work twice as hard to try and remedy the problems.

But then you look at the other people who worked on the film and the voice actors ……………….. They take Israel's side? Oh jesus

What a mess.

[alonetimelover]

pairing: Harry Styles x tennis player!reader

summary: "Can't hear the haters when you're slaying"

tennis player!reader

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, harryshoee and 14 104 others

harryupdates Harry and YN were spotted in London yesterday! via emglishmanharry

view all 1 023 comments

ynupdates glad to see yn well rested before the big paris!!

harrysmoustache he looks SOOOOOO good, man

harryshoee they are such a handsome couple, i literally can't take it anymore

tennisfan01 walkover in Italy to have a longer vacation? very professional of her

tennisfan92 here you have an example of why she's losing so much lately

tennisfan101 choosing a boy instead of your job??? classy

ynhater professional player only in billboards

ynhater16 she's becoming more of a celebrity than a tennis player, you can now see what she's really after 💸

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ynupdates

liked by harryupdates, ynsmybestie and 28 101 others

ynupdates I really don't know if I should write this... This photo is from YN's practice in Paris today. She broke down crying after multiple people from the audience kept calling her names, howling and disturbing. Those people were just a percentage of the ones that are actively judging her on the internet. And it is NOT okay. And it will never be. Some people should stay at home and keep shouting at their TV, leaving this lovely young woman to live HER life the way SHE wants to. She doesn't owe you anything. Treat her the way you'd like to be treated, with respect and kindness.

comments to this post have been limited

harryupdates couldn't have said it better

ynshands i hate those people, who do they think they are???

ynsmybestie i actually broke down crying with her, it was heartbreaking to see and hear

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harrysmoustache

liked by harryupdates, ynshands and 22 101 others

harrysmoustache after years of listening to Harry, i got to see him live. yes, this show was different. Yes, he was disappointed and angry. yes, he wasn't his usual bubbly smiley self. am I going to complain? no. he had a reason to be and its okay. I still listened to my favourite song (fine line) and forgot about my problems. thank you, harrystyles

view all 2 101 comments

harrynewfan hi, im a new fan and don't know what is happening in the fandom yet. could someone explain?

⤷ ynsmybestie harry is in a relationship with YN YSN. and right now, she is receiving a lot of hate because of losing tournaments and taking a break. its all over twitter (she's been trending for a week now)

ynupdates it seems that the situation really got to him. it's so sad to see

ynsmybestie i hope they are okay. i fear them breaking up, like man.... i can't think about it, imma cry

harryshoee did any of you miss what he said on stage???

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twitter

emily saw harry ♡ | harryno1fan

here's a thread of what harry said today concerning the outrageous comments about yn

1) "Your sign says: "I was bullied into changing myself. You helped me find the way back." First of all, you did it yourself because you are the strong individual. Secondly, I hope that those bullies learnt how to use their ability to communicate, right? This show is not a safe place for bullies, any bullies. Treat people with kindness."

11k comments | 34k shares | 74k likes

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emily saw harry ♡ | harryno1fan

2) Right before singing Fine Line: If I may have your attention, please! This song has been very special for a person close to me lately, and I'd like to dedicate it to her. Uhmm, sometimes when life gets hard and everyone seems to be against you, there - there is someone still for you, believing in you. This is for you."

10k comments | 32k shares | 70k likes

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emily saw harry ♡ | harryno1fan

3) After seeing the sign *are you coming to the Roland Garros?* "am I going? of course i am. my girlfriend is defending her title there. of course, I'm gonna be there! what a ridiculous question *laughing*. are you coming? you are. i hope to see you there. she loves the support even though she doesn't want to admit to it."

9k comments | 38k shares | 90k likes

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emily saw harry ♡ | harryno1fan

4) when there were five signs about yn next to each other: "did you coordinate that? no? you don't know each other! that's great! why are you writing signs about someone else on MY concert, hmm? I'm sorry, what? oh, you want to show your support. that's great. that's lovely. I think yn would love to see it. May I take a picture of you guys?"

and he did take a picture of them!!!!

14k comments | 40k shares | 80k likes

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harry LOT | harryupdates

this concert was very different and I think everyone needed it. harry made a clear statement: there is no place for hate and cruelty that people put YN through. and i thank him for that, really. what a great man.

4k comments | 6k shares | 3k likes

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yn my queen | ilovetennis

i am glad that Harry finally spoke up against it

1k comments | 654 shares | 2,1k likes

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ynupdates

liked by harryupdates, ynsmymama and 5 201 others

ynupdates YN via IG stories! thankfully the first round went easy and she's waiting for tomorrow's opponent. can't wait to see another match!

also, yes, i am disabling the comments because haters didn't learn anything.

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, tennismylife and 9 201 others

harryupdates HARRY posing for pictures tonight!

edit: the sign said "pose as if yn is taking a picture of you"

view all 2 201 comments

harryshoee this show is looking very promising and we're just few minutes in!!!!

hArrysbtch babes, he looks cuuuuuute

ynsmybestie im in love

yntennisqueen im beginning to like him

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twitter

seeing harry tonight | harryontour

"she's in paris, cause she's defending her Roland Garros title. and she's in the arena to define if I'm a better performer than Taylor Swift. baby, what's the verdict?"

when i tell you i screamed. sorry, screeched at him, i bet if he heard he would think I was possessed.

16k comments | 12k shares | 32k likes

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lily loves harry | lilyamazing

and then they showed yn screaming "you know im a swiftie!" i love this woman

3k comments | 1k shares | 12k likes

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seeing harry tonight | harryontour

the fucking update I have guys...

Harry: your sign says "have you listened to midnights?" have I listened to midnights?! who do you think I am? midnights? pfff. *after a little pause* yes. yes, I did. my girlfriend loooooves it.

and then he walked off singing: karma is my boyfriend, karma is a god, karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend

I LOVE HIM

28k comments | 34k shares | 102k likes

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harry and tay | midnightsqueen

he's a karma stan, slay king!!!!

3k comments | 4k shares | 7k likes

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andrew is right | billhater

oh, so she's going to concerts the night before a match. no wonder she's losing so much.

14k comments | 8k shares | 1k likes

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ynupdates

liked by harrystyles, harryupdates and 47 291 others

ynupdates couldn't imagine having a better response to the haters. yn ysn everybody!

edit: what in the fuck is harry styles doing on my profile??? wtf is yn doing here as well???

view all 6 028 comments

harryupdates👏 this 👏 is 👏 how 👏 you do it 👏

harrystyles can't here the haters when you're slaying

⤷ yourinstagram oh god, harry xD

⤷ ynsmybestie wtf are you doing here guys????

⤷ harryupdates couldn't imagine my Friday going any better, my life is made, I can die happily

⤷ yourinstagram please don't, im going to sue harry if you do

ynsmymama this match was everything. she IS the leader

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, ynupdates and 18 291 302 others

harrystyles #22 ❤️🎂

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, taylorswift and 2 201 493 others

yourinstagram i don't know about you, but I'm feeling 22!

thank you for all the birthday wishes, i love you all ❤️

comments have been limited

harrystyles happy birthday, baby ❤️❤️

taylorswift and it looks good on you! Happy birthday, YN!

⤷ yourinstagram no way

⤷ yourinstagram thank you so much!!! i love you!!!

[onceuponastory]

heartbeats - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Like most people in the hospital she works in, Y/N is head over heels in love with the gorgeous paramedic Bucky Barnes. Yet she has come to the conclusion that their small chats they have whenever he drops off a patient is the closest thing they have to a relationship. That is, however, until an accident on a night out brings them closer together. Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Doctor!Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, needles, pain meds/drugs, injuries (nothing too graphic) and bruising. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: This is my first entry for the @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse Challenge! One of my squares was Nurse, so here we are! Obligatory I am not a doctor (clearly), so my medical knowledge may not be the most accurate. Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own. 

“Hey. What have we got?” Y/N asks, waiting to greet the incoming ambulance.

“You know, I’d say I admire your tenacity to provide the best care to patients as soon as they arrive… but I know the real reason you got down here so quickly.” Her coworker smirks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here to help treat the patient, which I swore an oath to do.” Y/N lies, ignoring the way her cheeks are heating up with embarrassment.

“Oh suuure, you’re totally here for honest reasons. Definitely not just to see if the hot paramedic is coming. You’re really not subtle, Y/N.”

“Who's to say that’s not why you’re here, too?” Y/N replies. But her coworker is right. Y/N loves her job as a doctor, and getting to help so many people from all different walks of life. Especially after the amount of studying it took to get here. Yet, she’d be lying if she said that seeing the paramedic Bucky Barnes isn’t a big part of her job happiness. Bucky, the aforementioned hot paramedic, is charming, caring and makes everyone in the hospital swoon with just a smile in their direction. If Bucky treated all the people who have heart palpitations and need oxygen when he shows up, he’d be a billionaire. 

As one of the lead emergency doctors in the hospital, Y/N comes into contact with Bucky a lot during her shifts. And each time, his dazzling ocean blue eyes and winning smile send her heart into a flutter and make her legs go weak. Like everyone else in the hospital, Y/N is head over heels in love with the charming paramedic. Every time she sees him, she wants to get over her nerves and finally ask him out, or just to get to know him better. While, of course, secretly hoping that he feels the same way as she does. And yet, she just can't bring herself to tell him the truth. She and Bucky have a great working relationship despite only seeing each other during a patient handover, and despite how much she wants to get closer to him, she also doesn’t want to ruin what they have, and make either of their jobs awkward.

And besides, he has the pick of almost everyone in this entire hospital, so he definitely wouldn’t go for her.

But then, the sound of sirens cuts through the air, interrupting Y/N’s thoughts. It’s time to go to work, and not think about her incredibly attractive coworker. Yet, when the ambulance door opens, a familiar face steps out.

“Afternoon ladies.” Bucky grins. Y/N swears he even throws a wink in there. Immediately, her heart starts beating even faster. Sometimes, Y/N wonders if Bucky does actually know the effect he has on people, how he makes them all swoon and go weak with just a smile. If he does know, Y/N thinks he relishes in it.

“Hey. What have we got?”

“This is Mike. He’s a 23-year-old male who had a fall at work, and is now complaining of pain in his left side.” As Bucky explains the man’s condition, Y/N’s mind goes back to her feelings for him. She’d love to tell him the truth about how she feels more than anything, but the only time they see each other is when they’re with a patient, which doesn’t exactly lend itself to a lot of conversations, let alone heart to heart talks about your feelings. And her time spent with Bucky is always quick before he has to go be a hero again. She can’t just dump all her feelings for him when he’s about to leave. “Can I leave him in your very capable hands, Y/N?” Bucky asks, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Of course.” As Bucky departs, Y/N watches him go, registering a strange twinge in her heart. One she normally feels whenever Bucky is around. God, this man is definitely going to break her heart one day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few weeks later,

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? Your ankle looks really bad.”

“I’m fine.” Y/N lies. “I’m a doctor, remember?” A doctor with a very twisted ankle that hurts to even move. Groaning, Y/N leans back, trying to avoid hurting herself even more. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. It was a celebration of finally finishing four night shifts in a row and having some time off to recharge. But, after one drink too many and a pair of heels that are just too high to walk in comfortably, here she is. Sitting on the side of the road with a throbbing ankle and her pride and happiness shattered.

“Y/N, I really think we should call you an ambulance. You need to be checked out.”

“I’m a doctor, I can do it. I’m okay.” Y/N snaps. Gritting her teeth, she tries to push herself up, but cannot get to her feet without yelling out in pain.

“Absolutely not. You need to go to the hospital, and none of us are sober enough to drive you.” One of her friends replies, taking out her phone and calling for help, ignoring Y/N’s complaints. As she sits back down, trying to manoeuvre her ankle into a more comfortable position, Y/N knows her friends are right. She needs help, which she isn’t able to provide for herself. Maybe for once, after all her time spent taking care of others… it’s her turn to be taken care of. Soon enough, albeit longer than Y/N likes, an ambulance pulls up.

“Thank god.” She murmurs. However, when the paramedic steps out, illuminated by the streetlight, Y/N immediately regrets her words. “Oh, fuck.”

Bucky Barnes is standing right in front of her.

“Hey everyone, where’s the- Y/N?!” he gasps. She can’t fully explain the emotion on his face as he looks at her. In fact, it looks like a mix of emotions: surprise, concern and pity all rolled into one. Heat rises through Y/N’s body, settling on her cheeks. Bucky is the last person she wants to see her like this, sitting in the middle of the street on a Saturday night, in pain and crying, no doubt with her makeup smeared everywhere. At that moment, all she wants is for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Bucky kneels beside her, his face mere inches from her. “Not going to lie, you’re not who I expected to see tonight. But it’s a welcome surprise.” He smiles, and Y/N registers a familiar fluttering sensation in her stomach. “So, how are you feeling? Your friend said you broke your ankle, but what’s your personal diagnosis, doc?” He chuckles, and Y/N’s blush deepens. Bucky’s never called her doc before… and she’s just realised that she loves it.

“I think it’s just a sprain. Nothing worth worrying about.” Bucky chuckles, shaking his head.

“Well, you say that… but I still wanna check you over in the ambulance.” Y/N suppresses a groan. Of course he does. God, why does he have to be so thorough?! Why can’t, just this once, he- “Besides, if I missed something, I’d never forgive myself, especially if something terrible happened to you.” He admits, his words suddenly leaving her speechless and her heart racing. “Can’t have the best doctor in the area out of action, now can we?”

“Okay, now I know you’re just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“Nope. It’s true.” Bucky shrugs, and Y/N gasps.

“I-I-thank you.” She stammers out a reply, still in shock. She’s not used to this, to seeing Bucky outside of her job, and especially not as a patient. Or to be complimented so much by him. And what a way to start. But at least she’s finally going to know what being cared for by Bucky Barnes feels like.

“Can you walk?” Bucky asks, gently helping her up. When she yelps in pain after putting pressure on her injured foot, Bucky whispers: “It’s alright. Just lean on me, okay? Your carriage awaits.” He chuckles. Despite how weird this situation is, it feels nice to be so close to Bucky, and to be cracking jokes with him like they’re actually friends, and not just coworkers. Y/N just wishes it could be like this all the time. Aside from the twisted ankle, of course. 

Slowly, Bucky leads her inside the ambulance, and onto the bed inside. Y/N watches him as he grabs all the equipment he needs. Her brain feels like it’s going a million miles a minute as Bucky’s words replay in her mind. “I’d never forgive myself.” Does he care about her? Is there a chance he feels the same way about her? 

But then, her mind brings her crashing back down to reality. Of course he cares about her. It’s his fucking job. And right now, she’s just like any other patient. One that’s hopelessly in love with her paramedic and wants him to feel even a smidge of the love she feels for him. Although maybe, just this once, she can pretend that it’s just for her. Slowly, Y/N’s eyes wander lower. God, how does his ass look so good in that uniform?

“I bet this is a unique experience for you, huh? Being the one getting diagnosed?” Bucky laughs, turning back to her. “Especially by me.” Y/N nods, hoping and praying to whatever higher power there is that Bucky didn’t catch her staring, and especially not at his ass. “I just need to check your vitals.” Bucky explains, holding up a stethoscope. Y/N gulps. Bucky’s going to be closer to her than he ever has before, and there’s nothing she can do about it. Gently, Bucky lifts up her shirt, pressing the stethoscope to her skin. Despite the sensation of the cool metal against her skin, Y/N has never felt so warm in all her life.

“Your heart rate seems to be elevated.” He muses. “Take a deep breath for me.” As she does, Bucky tuts. “Your breathing is a little shallow, and you seem stressed. Although, I guess that’s normal after something like this.” Oh, if only he knew the true reason. As Bucky checks her blood pressure, his face is mere millimetres from hers. So close Y/N can see the grey hairs within his beard, feel his breath against her skin and even smell its minty freshness. And it’s sending her heart into a spiral. If only she could actually work up the guts to tell him the truth about how she feels. “So, do you mind me asking what happened?” Bucky asks as he checks her ankle, gently pressing against the tender skin. Each time he touches it, it sends shockwaves throughout her entire body.

“Well, let’s just say alcohol and high heels really aren’t the best combination. God, I knew it was a bad idea to wear those shoes. Especially when I’m so clumsy.”

“It’s alright. You’re not the first patient I’ve seen who needs a bit more practice with heels, and you definitely won’t be the last.” He reassures her, his words making her smile. A genuine smile, her first since she hurt her ankle. “If I’m hurting you, just say okay?” Actually, it doesn’t hurt. Or at least, not as much as she expected it to. Of course, part of it could be down to the shock, but she knows a larger part of it is because of how much care and tenderness Bucky is treating her with. She looks up, catching his eyes. Would telling him the truth be so bad after all? “I think you’re right. It’s starting to bruise, and it looks like a sprain. But I still want to take you to hospital to get you checked out and get an X-Ray, just in case.” 

“Let me guess, the one I work in? God, my coworkers will never let me live it down.” Y/N groans as Bucky injects her with some pain meds.

“If anyone gives you trouble, just tell me, alright? I’ve got your back.” He winks, and Y/N’s stomach flutters again.

“My hero.” she giggles, and Bucky even bows for her. But Bucky is a hero, one who saves people day in and day out. Hopefully, he knows just how loved and appreciated he is. Of course, as a doctor, Y/N knows people would say the same about her too. Yet, she knows she doesn’t hold a candle to just how kind and caring Bucky is.

Throughout the ride to the hospital, Y/N begins to get sleepier as the meds begin to work. “Thanks Bucky. You know, I should get you a drink after this.” She mumbles, not expecting him to hear her. But when Bucky laughs and says, 

“Okay, sure. I’d love that.” her blood chills. When she said before that she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole when Bucky first saw her in pain, she was wrong. This is when she wants the ground to swallow her whole. After that, she sits in silence for the rest of the ride, all the way til Bucky wheels her into the hospital. “Well, this is the end of the line.” He sighs, his tone causing Y/N to raise a brow. Maybe it’s just the drugs talking, but she swears Bucky is sad to see her go. “Now, promise me you’ll take care of yourself, alright? I don’t wanna see you here again anytime soon. At least… not on this side of things. We have to get you back here as soon as possible.”

“Thanks Bucky.” She smiles. “It’s just part of the job, right?” She chuckles. Yet, Bucky shakes his head.

“Not always. Sometimes it’s because you care about the person too.” But before Y/N can say anything, he’s gone, off to save the world again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I still cannot believe you got treated and brought in by the hot paramedic.” Y/N’s coworker gasps as she bandages her foot. “What did he say? What did you say?!”

“Nothing.” Y/N sighs. “I was in shock for most of it. Both literally and figuratively.”

“Well, at least you got to hang out with him outside work… sort of.” And now, she’s off work for a bit until her ankle heals, meaning she won’t see Bucky for a while. Just her fucking luck. But then, a knock sounds at the door, and her supervisor pops his head inside.

“This arrived for you, Y/N.” He says, passing over an envelope. Inside is a get well soon card. She knows who sent it to her before she even opens it.

“To Y/N. My favourite doctor. Or should I say my favourite patient? Don’t tell the others I said that. Honestly, though, I hope your ankle feels better soon. If you are serious about that drink, give me a call. Although maybe don’t bring your heels this time.” Bucky’s number is written underneath. Y/N stares at the letter, still unsure that it’s real. Maybe it’s even a hallucination caused by the meds. But, it’s still there. It’s still real.

And that means Bucky wants to see her. Immediately, her heart pounds, and her stomach flutters all over again.

“Oh, my god.” Her coworker gasps, peering over her shoulder to read the card. “Are you gonna call him?”

“Yeah…” Y/N smiles. “Yeah, I think I will.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library​ and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

[averyangrypossum]

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the

Flowerbroadcast AU!

Based on the two drawings I did of a fankid for the ship radiostatic.

The full-body one

And the one with both Vox and her

And now, I’m gonna tell you all about it and exactly who the fuck this little kid is.

Lotus is the daughter of Vox (as you can tell) and Alastor and is six years old. She was created shortly after Vox and Al broke up, oh yeah I should probably talk about their relationship status. Vox and Alastor, unlike in canon, weren’t only close friends but were dating at some point, mostly because Alastor wanted to manipulate Vox’s feelings to where he’d be more compilable but accidentally took it too far, and since Vox is a piss baby Alastor decided to entertain Vox for a while.

Was this relationship healthy?

NO!

Would Vox say these were the best years of his afterlife?

Yeah.

But anyways, in this au when Vox asks Alastor to “join his team” he was actually proposing and Alastor finally realized,

“Shit maybe this has gone out of hand” and breaks it off with Vox which leaves Vox heartbroken and with an incel breakdown. Now instead of trying to move the fuck on, he has our little darling Lotus, who he has trying to fill the hole that Alastor left.

So obviously having a child for that reason isn’t going to make you a good parent.

Lotus’ relationship with the Vees are as follows in the particular order.

1 Velvette: She does Lotus’s hair everyday and picks out outfits for her to post on her social media before Lotus immediately undos everything that Velvette does and just goes for pigtails and her nightgown. Velvette has wine aunt energy and is probably the only one of the Vees to know how to talk and get through to Lotus.

2 Valentino: Surprising I know, but Lotus doesn’t know what he does to his workers, she knows what he does for work but grew up with thinking that was just something normal since Valentino was never hush hush about his job around her much to Vox’s dismay. Valentino isn’t a big fan of children and doesn’t hang around her often, but sometimes he’ll draw along side her while bitching about a particular show she’s watching even though it’s literally made for kids.

3 Vox: Wow, how bad do you have to fuck up for a pimp who hardly spends time with her to be ranked higher than her own father?? Vox, despite making the conscious decision to have her, he isn’t around like at all. Hes a workaholic through and through, and mostly leaves her with nannies and Velvette. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her. Au contraire he loves her with all his heart and soul. Will give her anything except quality time. He uses her more of an accessory than a child.

Now how exactly Lotus was made is up to you.

A robotic creation Vox made? Sure!

Some voodoo magic shit? Yeah!

Some weird magic thing where she kinda just poofed into existence? Why not!

Mpreg? I mean, do what you wanna do ig?

Cuz it really doesn’t matter!

This whole au starts with Lotus running away from the Vee tower to explore hell since she's basically Rapunzel. She gets lost and terrorized by sinners until our deer Alastor rescues her. Seeing his chance to promote the hotel he takes her there where she is offered to stay there by Charlie when Lotus complains about how bad her dad is. She graciously accepts because shes only six but is going through her “My dad hates me and I hate him” era. Which I mean…I would get that impression too if I didn’t see my dad that much.

Wait my dad lives across the country…don't talk to me rn I’m busy dyeing my hair black and becoming emo 🖤

But anyways she stays there while Vox is loosing his fucking mind, and becoming more mentally unstable.

Meanwhile! She's having the time of her life with the hotel's residents and a new father figure who treats her well and pays attention to her! Alastor! Now Al doesn’t know she is his kid, but that doesn't stop him from being a better dad than Vox out of spite!

Anyways, thats all I have, for now! Stay tuned my friends~