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peachesofteal · 4 months

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Simple Math / Part Seven

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.8k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Brief suggestive content, sex dream. Mentions of domestic violence, stalking. Hospital setting, nurse!reader. Feelings of fear, anxiety. Mentions of stress and weight loss. Soft dads. Little bit of flirting. Simon is... Simon. You get caught in a spell.

Johnny knows this is a dream.

It’s an odd thing, to be conscious of it, to know you’re dreaming but still unable to control your actions. It’s like watching a movie of yourself, but also being yourself, directing your body without having a say in what it’s doing.

He knows this is a dream, because you’re in it. You’re in their home, in one of Simon’s oversized sweatshirts, boy shorts rucked up over the little lightning bolts that arc across your hips, the underside of your cheeks. You’re smiling at him too, like you belong in there, like it’s yours too, and his heart swells, growing to a preposterous size.

“There’s my bunny.” He pulls you into his chest, mouthing up your neck and over your jaw. Your skin tastes like sugar, and when he gets to your lips, his hands shift, sliding down your back to grab two fistfuls of your ass with a groan. “Missed ye.”

“We missed you too.” His fingers trace the edge of your panty line, barely dipping into where you drip for him. “Come to bed, Si’s waiting.” You whisper, stifling a moan.

“Johnny.” Simon calls him, too loudly. He wants to hiss, snap at him about not waking the baby. “Johnny!”

His eyes blink open. White ceiling stares back at him, and he turns his head, finding Simon with a bemused look on his face.

“I was havin’ a great dream.” Johnny grumbles, latching onto him. Simon scoots closer, lifting the back of his hand to his lips with a secretive smile, dotting kisses down to his wrist.

“I know.”

“- and he has access privileges, as long he’s not interfering with care, he’s allowed to be in the room whenever he deems fit. Obviously, in cases where he shouldn’t be, like burn debridement, he’s fine with stepping out, but you should expect him to sleep here.” The nurse nods, nervously peeking over your shoulder at Simon, who’s lurking in the hallway, staring through the glass at the transport techs getting Johnny settled in his room. You catch her eyes, motioning to redirect her attention, and she mumbles a meek apology. “They have a daughter, who Johnny has been mostly separated from since he got here, and he’s hoping to see her often, since she’ll be allowed to visit more freely now. I told him it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay.” Her toes tap against linoleum, weight shifting from foot to foot, and you resist the urge to sprint back to her boss and demand someone else. Fuck. Why does Nora have to be on maternity leave?

“This is my favorite patient.” You warn her instead, dropping your voice low, pitching it brazenly serious. “I don’t ever want to see him back upstairs again, and that’s going to depend a lot on you.”

“Okay, okay.” Her work phone rings, and you jerk your head in dismissal, not quite finished, but not seeing a need to continue to harangue her, either.

Simon glances at you from down the hall, head turning once you’re alone. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t call to you, or say your name, but you’re helpless to the magnetic yank of his presence, a beam of gravity dragging you closer until you’re shoulder to shoulder, looking into Johnny’s room. He’s asleep, dark lashes feathered against his cheeks, blissed out and nearly snoring. “This will be great.” You say quietly. “He can see Penny almost as much as he wants down here. There are far less restrictions, and he’s doing so well, there’s nothing to worry about it.” He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with the x-ray vision that peels you open. Like he’s digging around in your head again.

“D’you have a minute?” You blink at him, graceful words dried out and missing.

“Uh, I… yeah, I’m technically off now so. Sure?”

“Have a tea with me? I’ll meet you outside the café, on the patio. Ten minutes alright?” Have a… have a tea with him?

His eyes are heavy. They’re lasered, locked onto yours, brows knitted together in something soft, some form of emotion that you don’t understand, framing his face above the mask. How can you say no?

“Okay, sure. Ten minutes.” You try to hide how your hands shake, tucking fingernail to palm, squeezing tight.

It doesn’t escape him.

You grow more afraid with each day, that nothing does.

The paper cup cradled in Simon’s outstretched grip is like every other paper cup you’ve seen before, drank from a thousand times, with steam wafting from its rim and aromatics spilling out into the air. “Sorry.” You blurt, reaching. His fingers brush against yours, warm contact momentarily stunning you. ‘Thanks.” You lift the tea to your nose, inhaling deeply.

Irish breakfast. With milk. Your favorite.

“How do you know what tea I drink?” You don’t mean for it to sound so suspicious, or aggressive, but it does. It’s nearly accusatory, but doesn’t affect him. He merely shrugs in response.

“I pay attention.” An engine turns over in the carpark, a small car sweeping across the lot as it turns out onto the street. You watch, feigning mild interest, trying to get a closer look at the driver without appearing too fixated. “So.” He sips, and then removes the lid, vapor rising from the top in a delicate little dance. “How long have you been at Addenbrooke’s?”

“A few years.” The answer is effortlessly supplied, like you’re under a spell. Your eyes go round. What are you doing? Crow’s feet crinkle at the corners of his own, and you manage a shaky smile.

“What brought you across the pond?” He jokes, velvet, soothing lilt in his voice.

“Work.” It’s easy to lie about this, the fabrication usually used in casual conversation almost every day with patients and new coworkers, people who are interested in you being from somewhere else, having a different accent, different education, customs, the whole lot. His jaw moves behind the mask, and before he can push the question further, you rush out your own interruption. “Simon, I want… I want to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.” He nods. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s… the other night Johnny said something about,” Your face is nearly scalding, embarrassment laden lump stuck in the back of your throat. “about you and him, and… me, I guess…” you trail off, eyes darting down into the tea.

“Go on?”

“He said that you guys think I’m special, and you- you said-“

“That we’re here for you.” He finishes, nonchalant.

“Right.” You breathe a little easier, knowing he knows what you’re talking about, words picking up steam. “I want you to know that it’s totally normal to feel this way. It happens a lot, you know. Patients and, or their family members, loved ones, they get attached. This affection starts to happen towards a member of the care team because we become that person who… provides care, twenty-four seven. So, you and… and Johnny, feeling like you have this attachment towards me, it’s very normal. Not a big deal.” You finish in one big breath, cutting your ramble short. His cheeks swell behind the fabric, like he’s smiling, eyes squinting again.

“That’s not what this is.” That’s not… what this is? What does that mean?

“What?”

“Transference. That’s not what is happening here.”

“How do you…”

“I’ve had years of therapy.” He sighs. “Are you uncomfortable?” Say yes, the girl in your head screams. Tell him you need it all to stop. That you don’t like them, that it’s inappropriate. You know how this will end.

“No.” You don’t know why you don’t acquiesce to your own good sense, why you ignore the very clear boundaries and rules that have kept you alive this long.

“Bunny, I need you tell me, honestly, if you are uncomfortable.” He levels you with an intense look, seriousness bleeding from his irises to yours. You press your palms flat on the table, quelling their trembling.

“It’s not… it’s not you. Or Johnny.” You whisper, eyes slipping shut. It’s easier that way, to just close them, to hide. To pretend you’re somewhere else, to block everything out.

What the fuck are you doing right now? Your brain screams, but your heart wails.

What is it like, to be loved like that? To be known like that? To be held in someone's heart, cherished and protected?

“Sweetheart,” Simon’s voice is low, calming, and when you don’t answer, one of his hands folds over yours. “are you with me?”

“Yes.” You peek at him, and then fully let yourself look around, steadying the rancid fear that permeates through your body. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He hums, hand still over yours. It’s warm, and broad, big thumb stroking a slow circle into your skin. “Is today your Friday?” You nod.

“It is, yeah. I’m… I’m looking forward to catching up on some sleep.” He straightens in the chair, shoulders and torso so unbelievably wide, like a long forgotten mythological god. Or the trunk of a massive tree.

“Will you have dinner with us, tonight?” The last of the orange red dawn spills over the crest of the buildings, and the world spins, cold sweat breaking out down your back.

“What?”

“Dinner, with us. I’m picking up takeaway for Johnny from his favorite place as a celebration, for graduating the ICU. We’d love to spend some time with you. Get to know you, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, I…” Say no, you have to say no, shut this down. It’s too much risk.

“No pressure. Just, hanging out, talking. As friends, if you like.” Butterflies thrash in your stomach so violently your knees bounce, and your heart leaps, pitching itself off a cliff like it wants to die.

“Okay.”

“Great. I can pick you u-“

“No! No, I’m fine. I have some errands to run after I get up for the day so, I’ll just meet you here.” It will be just like going to work. No harm, no foul. You can hang out with them, and go home, just like you’re at work. It doesn’t mean anything. It won’t.

You barely sleep. You pace, you nap, you thumb through endless craigslist listings in faraway cities for apartments, you read. You take the long way through the city back to your flat and slowly sift through pieces of your life that you want to keep. Your quilt from home, that’s been tucked away on a shelf. A sentimental trinket that belonged to your mom, also hidden in a drawer. These things that can be removed, without being noticed.

Not that it matters.

He hasn’t been here. Not since the sick shit he pulled with your underwear. It makes you curious when you inspect the undisturbed tape on the back side of the door, the light dusting of baking powder on the bedroom carpet, but not surprised.

It’s not unlike him, to make himself known and then suddenly disappear, the endless mind games partially intentional, and partially something not even he can control.

After all, duty calls.

He could still be in the city. He could still be watching. You don’t know anything for sure.

“Three things you cannot outrun in this world, babe. Death, taxes, and… me.” You mumble it to yourself, the same words that live in your head, in his voice, repeated, pulling a pair of scrubs from your dresser.

But you had been running, and still had your life to show for it.

It doesn’t matter, you know how this will end.

You’ve changed your clothes five times. You hem and haw in front of the mirror, trying not to look too closely at any one piece of yourself, switching shirt and pant combos until you finally settle on your usual, a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. They’re high waisted, because low rise is not even within the realm of possibility for your hips, and you appreciate how they fit, even if they may sit a little loose right now, given your recent stress levels.

You look fine, you decide. You look professional. You don’t really look attractive, in any way, but the scars on your torso are hidden, and with a little bit of make-up, you think you look presentable. At the very least, you don’t look like you’re half asleep, which is exactly how you feel.

Not like it matters, you chide. This isn’t a thing; it’s just hanging out. You’re going to put an end to this entire charade, tonight.

The train is quiet, and you’re extra watchful. Every face, every movement is logged, every jacket or hat or hood is inspected. Posture, skin tone, height, of every person you pass or see is tabulated and run through your mind. Your brain, a supercomputer in its own right, does it all, seamlessly. It wants to protect you, it keeps you on guard, it can look at a crowd of twenty people all facing the opposite direction and locate a potential threat, just by the shape of the shoulders.

You don’t see him, you don’t feel him, your skin doesn’t prickle, and you let the lack thereof bring you peace, if only for a few moments.

Johnny’s floor is bustling. You wave hi to those you know, checking in with his nurse for a moment, letting her know you’ll be hanging out for a bit. She doesn’t even bat an eye, thankfully, and you try to settle yourself as you turn down the hall.

You’re not prepared for what you find when you knock on his door and slide it open, breath catching for a moment, and you scramble to cover your initial balk.

Their daughter is here. She’s cuddled up on Johnny’s good side, the one without the burnt tissue or recovering surgical wound. She’s asleep, wearing a black onesie covered in skulls, her head tipped back and mouth open, chubby cheeks and sweet little face perfectly content. She’s got her entire fist wrapped around one of Johnny’s fingers, holding it right under her chin like she’s afraid he might vanish while her eyes are closed. “Hey, bun.” Johnny whispers, smiling so wide, two fingers stroking through the wispy curls on top of her head. “We snuck in a visitor tonight.”

“I see.” Your heart trembles.

“Fell asleep right away, next to her Da. Been missin’ him these past few nights.” Simon chuckles, patting Johnny’s leg gently, affectionately. There’s a bag of take out on the table behind him, as well as what looks like an overnight bag, a purple duffel stuffed full. “Price is on his way to pick her up.” Penny gurgles, eyes blinking open in a sleepy daze like she knew they were talking about her.

“Ye’re alright, sh-shh, wee lamb.” Johnny coos. She’s half soothed by his words, but the lights in the room are far too bright, and her small noises waver into a cry, frustrated and tired. He tries move her, cradler her higher up his chest, but his face falls with pain, and Simon swoops in, pulling her into his arms. “Bunny, could ye-“

“Would you-“ They both try to ask at once, and you flounder once you realize the intention, a cranky, sleepy Penelope being pushed into your arms.

“I-“ she wails, interrupting you, bending you to her will without fuss, and you hold her closer, rocking side to side, humming above her ear. Just like the NICU, like a patient, like your stint in L&D, it’s fine, it’s-

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Not fine. It’s not fine. Heat burns in your belly. He can’t call you that, not when you’re holding their baby. “Thank you.” Simon says over his shoulder. He’s moving Johnny, lowering the bed slightly to help reposition him, and they speak quietly to one another, voices low enough you can’t make out any of the words.

“I can help you with him, if you want.” He waves you off.

“I need the practice, won’t have you around all the time anymore, yeah? And once he gets home…”

“Ach. ‘m not paralyzed. Jus’ uncomfortable.” Johnny glowers, pouting, and you roll your eyes, rhythm steady, gently bouncing, letting Penny cuddle into your chest, snuggling her face against your arm and side. She’s beautiful, precious and sweet, cooing herself back into a light slumber, and you smile despite yourself, still rocking after her eyes start to shut. “Knew she’d like ye.” He says softly, and you glance up, surprised by the intensity of their focus, heavy gazes fixed on you.

“She’s very sweet.” Your lips twist.

“She is.” Simon agrees. “We were happy to get her some time with her Da. Good for both of ‘em.” His fingers find Johnny’s cheek, and then their hands meet, a palm pressed to lips, a whispered a I love you.

An intimate moment, as you stand there with their baby in your arms.

“Alright, now that ye’ve done the hard work by gettin’ her back down,” Johnny gestures, urging you to step forward, and you carefully place her back in his arms. For a moment, your faces are level, and you get caught in his eyes, nerves strung so tight they could be a tightrope. “I’ve got her.” Weeks in the hospital, and he still smells like cedar and oranges, woodsy citrus that envelopes you, your lashes fluttering on the inhale. “She likes ye.” He murmurs, breath warm and tickling over your cheek.

“Well, she’s...” you straighten, hands smoothing down the front of your top. They’re moist, somehow, and you tuck them behind your back. “She’s a good judge of character, I guess.” Simon’s phone vibrates, Johnny’s plush smile turning dour, and he sighs.

“Okay baby girl. It’s time.” She cries a little, readjusting to Simon’s hold, and he slings the purple duffel over his shoulder, promising to be right back. Johnny nods, eyes downcast, and his face twists once the door shuts, cheeks turning red, staccato, hiccupped breaths coming fast.

“Hey.” You whisper. “Hey, Johnny.” The chair at his bedside creaks under you, and you lean forward, fingertips lightly caressing the tape residue that still sticks to his skin. You should clean that off.

“’m alright.” His shoulders roll, chin jutting out, brilliant blue gleam in his eyes returning, like storm clouds rolling off after rain. He’s silent for a beat, pinky finger folding over yours. “How was yer day?”

“Oh, it was… fine.”

“Simon said ye were goin’ to catch up on some sleep?”

“Yeah, I didn’t.” You laugh, and he smiles. “I feel okay though. Still awake at least.”

“I’m glad… ye came. I’m sorry if the other night, I was too… forward.”

“That’s okay. You’re just… so flirty, I don’t even know what to do with myself.” You tease, expecting to get a lighthearted quip in response, or a laugh, but he gives you neither, only a serious, sympathetic expression.

“I didnae mean to make ye uncomfortable. Felt terrible, when ye ran off, I-“

“I’m fine, Johnny. You… you didn’t. I mean, it was just… confusing, this is… this is a lot.” He nods.

“I know it is.”

“And you don’t even know me.” His brow creases, focus narrowed in so tightly on you, white walls, white hospital blanket, white everything falling away in a spiral of color.

“I know ye better than ye might think." He cracks a smile. "We want to, if ye’d let us.” No, you don’t. You almost say it. Almost promise him that knowing you would be the stuff of their nightmares, that they have no idea what they’re trying to bite into, or bite off, a near guarantee that it would be than they could chew.

“Well, no harm in making new friends, right?” You entreat weakly, and his eyes flash, ethos of an entire life that you have no knowledge of slipping through, and the dark severity rumbling in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

“Aye, bun. Especially when they look like ye in a pair of jeans.”

Dinner is an idyllic affair. Johnny’s favorite takeaway turns out, is Indian, like yours, and the three of you talk for hours, trading bites back and forth, laughing and listening to stories, discovering little bits and pieces about their lives while running interference on personal questions about yourself, allowing them to dip in skin deep, skimming off the top but never getting further. They tell you about themselves, Penelope, their jobs, how they met, and Johnny confides in you about his sketchbook collection, pages upon pages of charcoal and pencil line work, portraits of Simon and Pen covering each page, landscapes, and the occasional cartoon. Your spine eventually starts to wilt, muscles liquifying into goo that can barely hold you upright, and you curl up in the armchair, chin on your palm, listening to the ebb and flow of their voices as they tell you a particular story about how they came to find their current home, a near slapstick comedy about an interaction with the previous owner. Their voices soothe your restless mind, wrap you in a cozy embrace that feels so safe, so comfortable that you can’t fight the languid, siren call of sleep, eyes drooping into darkness, drifting away on their melodies, content and too tired to rationally put together what’s happening. At some point, something covers you up, knit warmth that is tucked in around your shoulders, your feet, a tender touch on your neck and cheek. A whisper of affection soothes the unease that lurks in the background of it all, and you fall into it lazily, farther into the hold of sleep, something your brain and body are desperate for.

When the lights go dim, you don’t even realize, already lost to the sand of slumber.

Around midnight, you wake with a start. Your heart is racing, triple timing in your chest, and you squint in the dark, trying to parse together where you are, what happened.

Oh no. Oh god, did you fall asleep on them? Did you fall asleep in Johnny’s room?

Simon calls your name. He’s settled in a recliner, head turned your direction, mellow light from the little lamp spilling across his features. “Are you alright?” Your mouth is dry, the web of sleep that holds you in suspension finally starting to wane, fuzzy clouds in your head trying to clear without much luck.

“How long was I out?”

“Four hours.”

“I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head.

“Wanted to let you sleep. I know you were tired, and Johnny was out almost immediately after you.”

“Th-thanks.” Your back groans, muscle and bone grinding together, stiff from sleeping in a cramped position for hours, and you’re surprisingly unsteady on your feet. Simon’s out of his chair in a second, turning around the end of Johnny’s bed to offer you a hand, his other lightly resting between your shoulder blades.

“Easy.”

“Sorry… just… think ‘m more tired than I realized.” It’s dark, and you’re disorientated, woozy, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, limbs and lids still heavy and desperate to fall back asleep.

“I’ll drive you home.” His keys jingle, and you know you should reject him, refute this presumption, push him off, but you can’t string the right words together in your mind, can’t bring yourself to truculently pull away.

So, you don’t. And to your surprise, your shock, it feels… nice. You let him open the door for you, get you settled, you listen to his music on the way, city flying past outside the window, quiet hour of the night crawling by. You let him help you out of the car when you pull up to the curb, and when he asks if he can walk you up, your rational pugnacity is nowhere to be found.

“This is me.” You gesture to the door, fumbling in your wallet for your keycard.

“How long have you been in the hotel?”

“Oh, not long. Reno just started so…” His head turns, surveilling the hallway. You’re in an end room, far from the elevator but close to the stairs, as requested, and there’s a camera that sits on the ceiling, green dot consistently blinking. He glances at it, then back to you, head tilted.

“Are you safe here?” The world goes cold. Your stomach roils, blood draining from your face, and you try to hold yourself steady, mind turning over a million times. You’re overreacting. He’s just asking in a general sense. He doesn’t know. He couldn’t. Breathe. Deep breath.

“I uh, yeah. It’s got a deadbolt.” Along with a door stop alarm, and a security bar. He steps closer, so close that you can smell him, fresh laundry and musk, something spicy lingering there, something dark and enchanting.

“Are you in trouble, little bunny?” You’re in his shadow, beneath the stretch of a mountain, shielded by it, by a monolith so large it could blot out the sun. It overwhelms you, slows the racing pace of your mind, and you try to sort through the merry go round of feelings that are all trying to push their way out of your mouth.

You’ve never felt this. Never felt this… desire, to entrust someone with your life. Never felt this… attraction, this hold that the two of them have on you.

It makes you want to trust them. Makes you want to lay it all out and beg them to help you. Makes you want to close your eyes and leap, praying they’ll catch you.

It’s wicked. It’s dangerous. It’s a fool’s errand.

It’s unfair.

“No.” You whisper. You can’t look at him, and time slows in the silence, your anxiety piquing. Of course, he would assume something is wrong, after witnessing the panic attack. Don’t read too far into it.

“But you wouldn’t tell me if you were, would you?” He’s pragmatic, yet still kind, watching you with intent. It doesn’t allay any of the stress that’s building up the back of your throat and closing it, cutting you off from the oxygen you desperately need.

After an eon, he sighs.

“Okay, sweetheart. You can keep your secrets. For now.” You choke.

“I… I should probably-“ you jerk your head towards the door, half turning away to swipe your keycard.

“Alright.” He moves carefully, dipping low, and you stand immobilized, confused and quivering as his cloth covered mouth presses a slow kiss to the top of your head. It’s like he’s bewitched you, cursed you, and you can’t do anything but stand there, stunned. “Thanks for coming tonight.” You’re a deer in headlights, a rabbit in a scope.

“Simon.” His name is the only thing you know right now, and it comes out reedy, almost a squeak.

“Get some rest. We’ll text you tomorrow.” He pushes the door wide, arm snaked behind your shoulders, and when you don’t move, he urges you forward, an encouraging hand on the small of your back. Your feet blindly stumble through the motions, searching for the light switch, for your sanity. “Goodnight, bun.” He hums, and the door clicks shut, leaving you alone, staring at the beige-yellow paint on the wall.

The afternoon trains are packed. It makes your skin crawl, not because you dislike busy or hectic places, but because there are too many eyes. You force your head to stay up, casually scrolling past the faces that are turned every which way, keeping your back to a corner or window as often as possible. You’re not sure you even needed to take this route, the one where you loop around and change trains twice, but… old habits die hard.

You’re lighter today, mentally. It’s in your steps on the stairs, the way you tilt your face up to the sun, how you bounce and bob a little along to the rhythm in your headphones.

You try not to read into it, too much. You tell yourself it has nothing to do with the good morning text messages from Johnny and Simon, or the hilarious back and forth between them after Simon sent a god-awful joke to the group chat. It has nothing to do with the heat that spreads through your fingers to toes when you think about Simon last night, kissing your forehead.

You slip inside your apartment, popping your headphones free, glancing at the tape and the door jam, before setting your bag on the counter. You idly sort through some mail you left out the other day. Junk, junk, junk, nothing taxing or important, nothing work related or-

A shadow moves. It flickers against the wall by your bedroom, growing larger, stalking closer to the kitchen, to where you stand, frozen, heart pounding in your ears.

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

“Hey there, sugar.” He croons, the thick, Texas accent unmistakable, and you breathe his name in horror.

“Phillip.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #simon riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x reader

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lyssaluvs · 4 months

Text

Just Play the Part

(Luke Castellan x Fem!Dionysus!Reader)

Summary: A makeover from Silena and the Aphrodite girls gives you the confidence boost you need.

A/N: this took me so bloody long it's borderline embarrassing. also luke is so out of character it almost makes me sick but whatever. god this is so short, i'm so sorry.

Warnings: Use of Y/n, reader is described to have curly hair but that's about it.

Children of Dionysus are rare, daughters even more so. As a matter of fact, you were the only one. To your knowledge… Before you came to Camp Half-Blood, you were an only child, and when you arrived, you suddenly had a much larger family that you did before. A father, brothers, it was fantastic, it felt amazing to have the family you had always dreamed of. However, with a somewhat absent mother, apparently no sisters, and not a whole lot of friends, let alone female ones, you had had little to no feminine influence in your life. This resulted in you becoming a bit of a tom-boy. It’s not that you didn’t want to embrace your femininity, you just didn’t know how.

“Oh goodness, those curls are a mess.”

“That outfit certainly isn’t doing her any favours.”

You heard the whispers as you walked past the small group of Aphrodite girls. As a child of Dionysus, you had quite a talent for theatrics, as well as being prone to sarcastic remarks, so you just couldn’t help but snap back.

“Can I help you?” You asked the group of girls, hands on your hips with your brows furrowed.

“Actually, we were wondering if we could help you…”

---

You now found yourself sat in a surprisingly comfortable barber-style chair in the bathroom of the Aphrodite cabin.

“Sorry I got defensive; I’m not really used to talking to girls much.” You apologise to Silena once again.

“Stop apologising! We love having a new girl to give makeovers to. And who knows, maybe this will give you the confidence boost you need to finally talk to Luke, since he’s obviously too shy to talk to you first.”

You cast your gaze downward as a warmth spread across your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, you’re not that obvious. I just have a knack for these kinds of things, comes with being an Aphrodite kid. Luke, however, is about as subtle a sledgehammer. Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” She paused combing your hair to look you in the eye.

You just shrugged.

“The lingering touches when he corrects your stances, yearning stares…” She awaited your reaction and when she was met with a befuddled expression, she continued.

“Oh my god, you’re oblivious. Here’s what you’re going to do. Once we’re done here, you’re going to walk right up to him, and ask him out. There’s no way he’ll say no, so don’t try that excuse. And I’ve seen you on stage, you can certainly play an outgoing character, so if you’re going to use the shy excuse, I’ll tell you to just pretend you’re on stage.”

---

It had been almost two hours and your makeover was finally over. Your curls were healthier than ever, your nails were painted, light makeup had been applied, and you had never felt more beautiful. You looked at your outfit in the mirror, taking note of the way the new flare jeans were much more flattering than your previous daggy cargos, and your camp tee now a size smaller and no longer drowning you.

“You’re lucky orange suits you, now go get your man!” Silena pushed you out the door, giving your butt a playful smack on the way out.

---

Feeling more confident than ever you approached Luke while he was practicing his swordsmanship in front of the setting sun, alone, as he usually was at this time of day.

“Luke”

The brunette boy turned around so swiftly he almost lost his footing. He looked you up and down and swallowed heavily.

“Y/n, you look ama- “

“Do you want to go out with me?” The words shot out of your mouth before you could stop them. Regardless of Silena’s reassurance, if he did end up rejecting you, you wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

His jaw dropped and he looked as though he wanted to say something, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate. The two of you stood in silence for a few moments as you waited for an answer.

“It’s fine if you don’t. I’ll just go.” You began to turn around.

“YES! Sorry, yes, I want to go out with you. Please. I really want to go out with you.”

It seemed his voice had finally caught up with his mind.

Hmm… He’s cute when he rambles…

@elz-zalarrr this one's for you!

credit to @cafekitsune for the divider!

#percy jackson x reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #pjo tv show

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daydreaming-nerd · 25 days

Text

The Prophecy (Lucien Vanserra x Rhys! Sister)/(Azriel x Rhys! Sister) Part 2

Part 1

AN: Wow I just want to say I have been so overwhelmed by the love part one got. Thank you for all the comments! I truly cherish each one!This part is a little short, because if I end up doing two different versions (a Lucien version and an Az version) this is where they will probably split off.

If you're new here check out my masterlist!

Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right?

Warnings: so much fluff, Angst, they be fightin'

Word count: 3485

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can fully elope if you want to.” I whisper to Lucien as we stand in front of the double oak doors to my brother's office.

At first I was confident that we had nothing to worry about. But now that I stood here, with only an ornate piece of wood separating us from the High Lord? The nerves had started settling in.

“I’m sure, an honorable male would ask your brother's permission before wedding you, and you deserve nothing but an honorable male.” he smiled, squeezing my left hand, the one his family ring currently found its home on.

“But what if he says-”

“Are you seriously doubting my silver tongue right now?” he smirked, cocking an eyebrow at me. “There’s a reason I was cursed to wear a fox mask for 50 years my darling.”

“Believe me I know all about that silver tongue,” I laughed, nudging him with my shoulder as I recalled what that silver tongue did to me last night.

“Shall we?” he asked, donning an unbothered face.

“We shall,” I smiled before pushing open the doors.

Inside the ostentatious study sat my brother, with his mate perched on his desk beside him with her back facing us. He broke his love sick gaze on her to see Lucien and I standing at the end of his desk.

“Sister…Lucien, this is a surprise,” Rhys said, fixing some papers on his desk, as if to collect the thoughts swirling inside his head as well.

“I’m sorry we didn’t knock, that was an oversight on our part,” I laughed thinking about the thousands of compromising positions we might’ve found them in. I silently thanked the cauldron for keeping that reality at bay.

“I was hoping I could discuss something with you,” Lucien said regally. I was so taken back by his tone I couldn’t help but look up to him, his face was nothing short of the son of a High Lord.

The air in the room stiffened as Feyre turned around to sit on the arm of Rhys chair, I suddenly felt like I was in a fishbowl. My brother and I had always been very close, I had shared everything in my life with him, there wasn’t a story of mine he didn’t know. But he didn’t know about Lucien, and I wasn’t sure how he would react to that.

“Of course Lucien you can speak to us about anything,” Feyre smiled warmly, placing her hand over Rhys’ as if to calm him down.

“With all due respect Feyre this is just between Rhysand and myself,” Lucien stated with the utmost respect, yet I still nudged his foot in warning.

Rhys shifted in his seat a bit, placing his hand on Feyre’s hip, “Anything you have to say to me you can also say to my mate Vanserra.”

This was not going according to plan.

“Well, you see,” Lucien looked at me and I gave him a subtle nod to continue. “Y/n and I have been seeing each other for quite sometime now-”

“And by seeing each other you mean?” Rhys interjected.

Lucien cleared his throat, “We’re all adults here Rhysand I-”

“You mean to tell me you’ve been fucking my sister?!” Rhys growled and I swear the mountains stirred in the distance.

“Rhys calm down!” I shout but Feyre speaks up first.

“How long has this been going on for?” Feyre asks, calmly. Her voice seemingly caused Rhys to lower his hackles.

“Since Starfall,” Lucien answered truthfully.

“Dammit I owe Cassian money,” she cursed looking at the door of the adjacent room.

Rhys turned to look at his mate bewildered, “you had suspicions and you didn’t tell me?” he gasped.

“Well Cassian thought they were going to hookup that starfall but I said there was no way,” Feyre said seemingly disappointed she lost a bet.

“Guys?” I probe, turning both of their attentions back to us.

“What I’m trying to say is I admire your sister very much Rhysand, and I would like to ask for your permission for her hand in marriage,” Lucien said, giving my hand a squeeze.

Feyre looked to Lucien, “But Elain is your mate?” she asks, confused.

“And Azriel is yours y/n,” Rhys reminded me.

“Come on Rhys, it’s been 400 years. If the bond was going to snap it would’ve happened by now. Azriel doesn’t want me.” I say honestly, and for the first time, the words don’t sting as much as they normally do.

Lucien picks up my train of thought, “And Elain has made it perfectly clear that she wants nothing to do with me.” he says to Feyre, who gives him an apologetic glance.

I look over to see Lu smiling down at me, “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and we get along well. I’m at my happiest when I’m with him,” I smile back at him before turning to my brother and Feyre once more. “Lucien is a good male, he’s kind and he takes care of me. I think we could make eachother really happy.”

Lucien tugs on my hand to bring my attention back to him, “And y/n is a beautiful, smart, and charming woman. Any male would be lucky to call her his wife, including me.” his lips curl upward, and I can’t tear my gaze away from him.

I had begged the Cauldron all my life to bring someone into my life who would choose me. I used to think that person was Azriel, but after all my years of flirting with him and trying to get the bond to snap I was only ever met with nothing. Yet here Lucien was, standing in my brother's office, saying I choose you.

Feyre’s voice broke my train of thought and pulled both of our attentions, “Aww, Rhys they're so sweet,” she beamed grasping onto my brother's arm.

Just like I had prophesied, I saw my brother's hard exterior melting under the ‘ooos’ and ‘ahhhs’ of his beloved High Lady. He stood from his desk and I felt Lu tense beside me as we both waited with bated breath for what the High Lord was going to say next.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said, holding out his hand. “Welcome to the family.”

The tension in the air dissipated as everyone in the room smiled, Feyre was practically jumping for joy. Lucien gave Rhys a firm handshake over his desk and I could see that while the proposal was unexpected for my brother, he wasn’t unhappy. He knew just as well as I did that Lucien was a good male, that he would be good to me.

“Oh we need to start shopping for dresses right now! I’ll grab Mor and Nesta and we can go out! We’re going to need a cake too!” Feyre squealed, hugging me tightly.

“Uhh that’s the other thing,” I said hesitantly, not wanting to step on my sister-in-law's happiness. “We didn’t want a big wedding.”

“We actually wanted to elope, and we want you two to be our witnesses.” Lucien picked up my sentence.

“Oh of course we will,” Feyre smiled looking at both of us before wrapping her arm around Rhys.

Rhys looked more troubled than he did moments ago, like the idea of an elopement didn’t sit right with him. However if he did feel that way, he didn’t voice it. Not when the idea seemed to excite Feyre so.

“When is the date?” Feyre inquired.

I looked to Lucien who was already looking to me for an answer. We had never given the date a thought. I shrugged my shoulders at him, hoping he might take the lead. His eyes twinkled with mischief, it was that same look he gave me before he did something like wipe whipped cream on my nose or use his flames to singe my bum as he slapped it.

“The day after tomorrow,” he said with certainty.

“The day after tomorrow?” the whole room gawked.

Lu turned back to me, “Yes. We’ve never been conventional, why start now,” he gushed giddy with infectious excitement.

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face, “Okay,” I giggled. “the day after tomorrow.”

He leaned down to scoop me up in his arms spinning me around the room, Feyre’s laughter and my own bouncing off the ornate wood paneled walls.

“But what will you wear?” Feyre asked, seemingly trying to figure out something in her head already.

I pondered the idea myself before it hit me like a ton of bricks, “Oh I can wear mothers dress!” I exclaimed looking at Rhys.

“I’m sure that’s what she would’ve wanted,” Rhys smiled, tossing his arm around his excited wife.

We parted ways with the promise of seeing them later this evening at family dinner. An event I typically despised, but now? Things didn’t seem so dull. I was walking in with my fiance, instead of alone.

Lucien and I ran down the hallways hand in hand, laughing like teenagers getting away with sneaking out.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” he laughed, backing me against a wall.

“Did what?” I ask, out of breath from running.

He leaned in close to my ear, “Told your brother how thoroughly I’ve been fucking you,” he smirks pressing a kiss beneath my ear.

“Well you didn’t use language that graphic,” I snicker while playing with the ends of his hair.

He pulls his head back from my neck to give me that mischievous look again, “I can always go back in there and tell him,” he teases.

“Or…” I say low in his ear, “you could just show me.” I say suggestively.

Lu’s lips curl upward brushing against the shell of my ear, “You little minx!” he growls hoisting me up, earning a squeal from me.

“You are beautiful and amazing and charming and you are going to be my wife,” he gushes, placing a kiss on my lips for every tender word.

Lu smiles at me before titling my chin up to meet his lips, the kiss warm and sweet. His hands pull my waist closer to him, and I bring my own from his chest to loop around his neck. He presses his forehead.

This was the start of a new chapter, one where I was somebody’s first choice. One where I was chosen and loved. One where I didn’t come home to an empty home, or show up to solstice parties without a date. One where I had someone to kill the spiders in the house for me, one where I was chosen.

As Lucien held me close to him, I could sense he felt all the same things too. It was a new start for both of us. A chance to be happy.

That evening after much celebration from Lucien and I that involved some time between the sheets…and the shower… and the living room floor…we finally dressed for dinner.

Dinner with the family was typically a laid back affair, it was the one time a week we could all see one another. Rhys would even make sure no one had any assignments during that time so that there were no interferences. My dress was nice yet laid back, nothing like what I would wear for starfall or a ball.

Lucien came up behind me as I put on my earrings in the stand up mirror.

“You look lovely, my wife looks lovely,” he said, taking the earring back from my hand to place it on himself. Kissing my bare shoulder in the process.

“I’m not your wife yet,” I smile, turning in his arms.

“Maybe so but you’re going to be,” he reminds me, kissing my nose.

“The day after tomorrow,” I say

“The day after tomorrow,” he repeats back. “Now let’s go before our tardiness causes your brother to call off the wedding.”

I laugh taking his hand and walking down the townhouse steps into the brisk night air. I checked to see that I had moved my impromptu engagement ring to my right hand before we got too far away. While I was excited about marrying Lu it was important to me that the wedding stay an elopement. I wasn’t sure how the rest of the family would react. Despite our good humor and book swapping, Nesta may choose to rip off my head for taking her sister’s mate and who knew how Cassian might feel about me marrying a Vanserra, even if it was Lucien.

As Lu held open the gate to the townhouse for me, the same way he did on starfall a year ago. I was sure that I had made the right choice. Not just in my future life partner, but in keeping the engagement secret for just a few days more.

The family gathered around the table, each one of them placing a dish in the center to be shared. During dinners we didn’t like to have the maids do all the work, per the request of the Archeron sisters. They said it felt more homey if we all pitched in on the work and they were right. Lu and I parted ways and I gave Feyre and Nesta a warm hug before continuing to set the table. It seemed everyone was in high spirits as even when I passed by Rhys to lay down the potatoes he gave me a kiss on the forehead.

Maybe everyone was in a good mood for once, or maybe things just seemed lighter because I didn’t walk in here by myself tonight.

Dinner moved quickly, and Lucien sat next to me as he normally did, both of us thick as thieves kicking each other's feet all night. It was impossible to keep such a happy secret from the family, but it was also insanely fun. Every now and then I caught a knowing glance from Rhys or Feyre. But whenever Rhys looked at me his next glance was always to Azriel, who didn’t seem to suspect a thing.

When the meal was over we all took our goblets of wine and moved to the living room to drink, laugh and tell war stories, as we always did. Normally this was when I would make some half-assed excuse as to why I had to leave. The last thing I wanted to see was a bunch of mated couples all over each other. My heart still panged as Elain chose to sit on the arm of Azriel’s chair, but it was lightened by the brush of Lucien’s fingers against the back of my head as he went to sit across the room next to Rhys and Feyre.

It wasn’t until Cassian started talking about going to war with the Valkyries for the one millionth time that I decided that I definitely needed more wine for this story. So I stood and marched my way into the kitchen with the promise of bringing back a couple bottles for everyone.

The walk-in wine cellar in the kitchen was cold, so when I turned around with two bottles in hand and bumped into a very warm chest I nearly yelped.

“Shhh it’s just me,” Lucien grinned, taking the two bottles from my hand to place on the counter beside us.

“Lu you scared the shit out of me,” I say in a hushed tone as he hoists me onto the countertop.

“I’m tired of watching them all cuddle up to one another in there, I want to cuddle up to you as well,” he smirked, placing kisses all over my neck.

“Down boy,” I giggle, acting like I don’t feel the exact same way. I feel his lips curl against my skin as I run my hands through his hair.

“This is only going to get worse once you’re my wife,” he smiles, placing a slow kiss on my lips.

“WIFE?!”

I whip my head around from where I’m sitting on the counter to see Azriel standing in the doorway, a look of pure betrayal written all over his face. Lucien’s hands found my waist pulling me off the counter so that my feet were firmly on the floor.

“You’re marrying him?!” Azriel shouts again and suddenly a smaller figure appears behind him, swathed in light pink and roses.

“He’s my mate you can’t just take him,” Elain exclaims, seemingly coming into her own.

I immediately see red at her words, completely disregarding Azriel in the room. Elain who wouldn’t give Lucien the time of day. Elain who knowingly entered an unethical relationship with Azriel and flaunted it. Elain who barely glanced at the pearl earrings Lucien had bought her for solstice. She had the gall to claim him, after the way she treated him.

“Take him?” I scoff. “You don’t even want him.” I shout back, the words coming off a little harsher than expected.

“She’s right y/n, Lucien is her mate,” Azriel interjected looking down at me, as if this situation didn’t benefit him in every way. Gods he would just do anything to make that girl happy.

“That’s deft coming from you shadowsinger,” Lucien snickered disdainfully, cocking his head at the spymaster.

Azriel bristled, “What's that supposed to mean?” he snarled.

I put a hand on Lucien’s chest to get him to back down, “It doesn’t matter, we’re happy. Is it really your mission to make everyone in this court miserable but yourself Elain?”

“HEY!” Azriel barked, taking a step towards me, his shadows rising behind him.

Before he can get a step closer Lucien grabs his arm, “Easy,” he hissed, but Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave my scared form.

Never in my life had Azriel raised his voice at me in such a manner. While I wanted to say I was unphased, the outburst had scared me. As soon as he noticed my reaction to his behavior, a realization seemed to dawn on him, and he quickly stepped back.

“You’re taking my mate, was there a way I was supposed to react?” Elain sneered just as snarky as ever, as if this was just a cat fight among the females.

The red I saw turned to crimson as I realized once more what she was doing. She didn’t want Lucien because she loved him. She wanted him because she felt entitled to him, she wanted both of them. My mate and hers.

“You take my mate, I’ll take yours!” I seethed the words spilling out of me like venom, unstoppable and poisonous to those in the room.

Elain’s eyes widened and I realized that the secret that I had kept for 400 years had finally come out. My stomach dropped and my blood ran cold, the world around me fading away as I discerned what I had done.

“What did you just say?” Azriel said in disbelief, my eyes flitted over to his.

Anger and hurt flashed in his golden eyes. I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t know what to say. I had never prepared for this.

“Azriel I-”

“I’m your mate?!” he sneered, his voice tinged with malice.

I felt a scarred hand grip my upper arm as if to winnow me away but Lucien was on Azriel in an instant gripping his arm right back.

“Get your hands off my wife,” he growled, raising his own metaphorical hackles.

“By the looks of it she’s not your wife yet. But apparently she’s my mate so I will handle her however I please,” Azriel said, getting up in Lu’s face, but to Lucien’s credit he didn’t back down.

It was as if after 400 years the bond snapped for Az. And every urge that came with that bond had snapped in place with it. The worst part of it all was that I didn’t know how to feel.

“That may be true but I won’t allow you to touch her in anger,” Lucien stated glowering at the shadowsinger.

Elain and I remained speechless and unmoving as Rhysand slid into the kitchen eyes ablaze at the scene before him.

“What the fuck is going on?” he bellowed as he saw Azriel gripping me and Lucien gripping him.

“It seems that Lucien has decided to wed my mate,” Azriel said with a smooth calm that sounded more like a warning shot.

“You treat her as if she was-” Lucien snarled back before Rhys cut him off.

“That’s enough!” he shouted and it was enough for both males to let go. “All of you get out of my sight and simmer down. We can talk about this when you can behave like adults!”

I think to protest my brother's orders, but he shoots me a glare so cold, so unyielding that I find myself sinking into Lucien’s embrace. I look to Azriel who wears his disappointment in me unnervingly well before winnowing both Lucien and I back home.

to be continued...

Part 3

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serpentandlily · 7 months

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Untouchable VII - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst angst angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part VII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Are you alright?”

Feyre’s voice knocked you out of your own head. You swallowed audibly, looking at her before following her gaze down to where you were holding your wine glass, white knuckled. You let out a sigh and set the glass down on the table, putting your hands in your lap.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you said, to get her attention off of you. “Just thinking about my last trip to Hewn City, that’s all.”

Feyre’s brows furrowed but she nodded.

Your eyes flickered back to the other end of the table, where Elain and Azriel sat. Elain was basically halfway out of her chair, leaning into Azriel’s space. A knot formed at the back of your throat. Azriel wasn’t exactly encouraging her, but he also wasn’t trying to put more distance between the two of them.

Jealousy roared its ugly head inside of you. Especially as you watched her place a hand on his arm, laughing at something he said. A hand that wouldn’t hurt him, unlike yours.

You looked away, unable to bear the sight of it anymore. You just wanted this stupid dinner to be over already.

Everyone seemed to have paired off into conversation. Feyre and Rhys, Cassian and Nesta, Helion and Mor, Amren and Varian, Elain and Azriel. You pushed around the food on your plate, feeling alone.

There was one another person here who looked just as lonely as you. Lucien sat across from you, his eyes glued on his mate who was flirting with your…with your Azriel.

Elain laughed again, drawing your attention back to her. This time, Azriel had a soft smile on his face as well.

You couldn’t take it anymore, thankful everyone seemed to be finished eating dessert. You cleared your throat, standing up and drawing everyone’s eyes to you. You kept your focus on Helion though.

“I'm going to turn in for the night. It was lovely seeing you again, Helion,” you said politely. “Goodnight.”

You couldn’t get to the balcony fast enough, summoning your wings to make the short flight back to the River House. You ignored the soft stroke of your brother’s claws against your mental shield, not in the mood to make up excuses for your behavior.

Once you were in your room, you started ripping the pins from your hair and tossing them on your vanity. Just as you were finishing letting your hair down, the shadows in the corner of your room seemed to expand until a dark figure stepped out of them.

Azriel approached you, concern written on his face.

“Y/n? Why did you take off like that? Is everything alright?”

You didn’t turn to face him, instead you looked at him through the mirror.

“I’m fine. I-I just didn’t feel too good.”

“Don’t do that, princess,” Azriel said, stalking forward until he was right behind you, still able to look at you in the eyes considering he was a foot taller than you. “I thought we were being honest with each other now.”

You let out a sigh and turned around, placing a soft hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. I just… I couldn’t stand watching you with her. After what I saw that night—” You choked on your own words for a second. “It’s hard to be around you when I can't be with you.”

Azriel placed his hand over yours. “I cannot apologize enough for that night, princess. But it is only you that I see. It meant nothing to me then and it means nothing to me now. You are the only one who owns my entire heart. I can only pray that a day comes when I can let everyone else see that too.”

You softened, staring up at his beautiful hazel eyes. They were gold right now in the moonlight shining into your room from the balcony doors, a perfect compliment to your own violet ones. But then his jaw clenched and the moment was stolen away.

You pulled your hand away from him, letting your arm fall limp at your side.

“This is also why I left,” you breathed out. “It pains me to see another person get to touch you when I can’t. I hate it, Azriel. I hate that I bring you pain.”

“I’d drag myself across the burning fires of hell for you, princess” Azriel brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, before leaning down to whisper, “I’ve never been a stranger to pain, y/n. Quite the opposite. I’ve learned to like it.”

The heat in his gaze—his words—made you melt right into his hands.

“Is that so?” Your voice was a mere whisper as your hand trailed down his chest, lingering on the waistband of his pants before palming his hardened length with a ghost of a touch.

Azriel groaned, his head falling against your shoulder. “Don’t tease me. Not tonight.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you purred, stroking against his mental barrier.

When he let you in, you showed him exactly how the two of you were going to spend the rest of the night.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You bit your lip, tossing more of your clothes out of your wardrobe and onto the floor of your bedroom as you dug around, searching for your journal. It wasn’t in the place you normally hid it, but that hadn’t been too concerning. You did often throw it about after writing in it for hours. But not being able to find it at all? That was a first.

“What are you looking for?”

You screeched, falling backwards onto your butt at the sudden voice. A masculine chuckle, accompanied with the scent of night-chilled mist and cedar flooded the room. You peered up to see Azriel hovering over you. You pouted at him and his antics.

“It’s rude to just appear in a ladies room, you know,” you snipped, causing him to snort. “I’m looking for my journal. I can’t find it anywhere. Have you seen it?”

Azriel shook his head, offering a hand to help you off the floor. “I didn’t even know you kept a journal. I can help you look.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

Before you could say another word, Azriel surged forward to kiss you. You let out a small gasp before giving yourself over to him. He kissed you with a familiar passion, bringing heat to your core and causing your heart to beat fiercely.

The kiss ended far too soon.

“What was that for?” you panted.

“Can’t I just kiss you?”

You gave him a look that had his lips twitching. “Fine. Cassian needs help in Windhaven so I’m going to be gone for a few days. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You frowned as he played with the straps of your dress, his eyes as pained as yours were at the thought of having to spend time away from each other.

“Do you really have to go? Can’t Rhys go help him? He’s the High Lord, not you.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to your lips again, smiling.

“Is someone going to miss me?”

His eyes softened when the look on your face didn’t change.

“It’s just for a few days, princess,” Azriel said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I suppose you don’t have a choice.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Do I at least get more of a goodbye?”

Azriel let out a small groan as your body pressed against his but to your displeasure, he merely kissed you on the forehead and stepped away. “I wish, princess, but your brother asked me to meet with him before I leave. I’m sorry.”

“Why is he always getting in the way?” you grumbled, more to yourself than anything.

Azriel placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “Be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too, Princess,” he murmured, giving you one last kiss before disappearing in a whirlwind of shadows.

His scent trailed behind him…but then you stiffened, another lingering scent was attached to it.

You sniffed the air.

Jasmine and Honey.

Elain’s scent.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Why did he smell like Elain? Had he gone and said goodbye to her as well? Had he been with her before coming to see you? You could feel your blood rushing to your head and you forced yourself to calm down.

You sniffed the air again, only smelling his night-chilled mist and cedar this time. You let out a long breath, sitting down at the edge of your bed. Perhaps you had been mistaken. Perhaps your own insecurities were making you paranoid.

But something awful curled in your stomach.

And a feeling of dread rushed through you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You busied yourself while Azriel was away. It had only been a day so far, but you already missed him so much. You had buried yourself in reports from the Court of Nightmares and correspondence from Eris. But still, nothing could fully distract you from your thoughts.

You kept going back to that scent in your room.

Had you made that up?

But why? Why would you do that to yourself? You hadn’t even been thinking of Elain. You wrestled with the idea that maybe Azriel had seen Elain before you, to tell her he was leaving. They were friends, after all. It could be something harmless.

But that night kept flashing behind your eyes every time you shut them. Elain on the counter, her dress pushed up to her thighs, Azriel between them, as they ravishingly kissed each other. Elain and Azriel at the dinner table, her hand on his bicep as he made her laugh.

It made you feel sick to your stomach.

The words on the parchment you were reading blurred together and you set it aside with a sigh.

You were overthinking things. Azriel had told you time and time again that he wanted to be with you. That he’s always wanted to be with you and it was your own brother that had kept him away.

You dropped your head down on your desk, sucking in air. You were just being paranoid. You were letting your insecure feelings get in your head. Azriel wanted you. Azriel wanted only you. He loved you. He always had…

Right?

A giggle in the corridor outside your door caught your attention. You sat up straight, recognizing it to be Elain’s. You froze for a second before quietly getting up and walking to your door, pressing your ear against the cold wood.

Another giggle, a bit further down the hallway this time.

You slowly pushed the door open a crack, peering into the dark corridor. Another giggle and the sound of someone shushing another. A streak of golden-brown hair slipping around the corner. Azriel’s scent wafted through the space and your stomach turned over.

You stepped into the now quiet hallway, following after the sound of Elain’s giggles and Azriel’s scent.

He was supposed to be in Windhaven. Why was he here? And why was here with Elain in the middle of the night? Your heart was pounding in your chest. You felt like throwing up. But you pushed yourself to follow despite your better judgment.

A door around the corner slammed shut and you could hear the sound of rustling clothes. Tears pricked your eyes and you darted forward now, pushing the door open.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the empty room. You blinked once. Twice. You couldn’t hear Elain’s giggle anymore, couldn't scent Azriel either.

Had you imagined all of that?

You rubbed at your eyes, exhaustion settling into your body. Gods, you were going crazy. The lack of sleep was finally getting to you. That was the only logical explanation you could give yourself. You left the room and returned to your own.

Just a few more days.

A few more days and Azriel would be home.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The next two days passed in a blur.

You had a stack of reports in your arms as you made your way towards your brother’s office, ready to deliver them. You had been staying in the Townhouse the past few nights, needing space away from Elain–hoping it would make your delusions go away.

It wasn’t her fault that you were going crazy, wasn’t her fault that your own brother had pushed Azriel away from you all those years. You didn’t want to take it out on her, so you figured you’d just remove yourself from the Riverhouse until Azriel returned.

You were passing by a closed off room when a familiar voice made you stop in your tracks.

“Fuck, Elain,” Azriel moaned. “You feel so good.”

You shook your head but the sound of two people panting didn’t go away. You froze, just like last time, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping it would go away. You were truly going crazy. You had to be.

“Gods,” Elain panted. “Please, Azriel, don’t stop.”

Your eyes shot open as your heart dropped to your stomach once more. That feeling of dread came again as bile rose up in the back of your throat. You put your hand against the door, slowly pushing it open, praying that you would be met with the sight of an empty room just like last time.

You choked silently on your breath as you peered into the room through the crack in the door. Your hand shot to your mouth as the sight of Azriel and Elain came into view. You blinked once. Twice.

It didn’t go away.

There was Azriel, holding Elain against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as they kissed. Your heart snapped into a million pieces, your eyes stinging with tears that had started falling.

What the fuck?

How…How could he do this?

They pulled away from each other and Azriel rested his forehead against hers.

“How much longer must you pretend to be interested in Rhys’s sister?” Elain asked, closing her eyes. “I’m tired of hiding, Azriel. I don’t care what Rhys thinks. I want the whole court to know how much we love each other.”

“It’s better this way for now, Elain. If Rhys is suspicious of me messing around with his sister, then he will take the news of us together more lightly. He’ll be relieved it's not her I’m after. Hell, he’ll probably throw us a wedding himself.”

Elain giggled, pecking his lips. “I just hate watching her pine after you. It’s a little sad, honestly. You’d think she would’ve moved on after all this time.”

“I know,” Azriel agreed. “But it’ll be worth it. I promise you.”

You couldn’t bear to hear anymore. You silently took a step back, closing the door as softly as you could. You felt your vision go in and out of focus as you forced your legs to keep moving.

Azriel…Azriel had been using you this whole time? He had been wanting your brother to think he had moved on from Elain to you in hopes that your brother would be outraged by the thought, leading him to be relieved that it was still Elain he desired, not you.

You wanted to throw up.

Wanted to scream at the top of your lungs.

You…Gods, you were such an idiot. You had believed every single thing Azriel had said to you. Had never doubted him until these past few days.

No. No….you couldn’t…you couldn’t do this. You were going to be sick.

You were walking still, not even sure where your legs were taking you. You wanted to winnow to Illyria and throw yourself off a cliff, wanted to curl up in a ball in your room and cry, wanted to…Gods, you needed to get away. Needed to get the hell out of here.

“Dove? Are you alright?”

You blinked, your vision coming back into focus to realize you had walked to your brother’s office—your mind likely on autopilot. His violet eyes were staring at you with concern, tracking the tears falling from your eyes.

The reports fell from your hand, scattering to the floor. Rhys rose from his desk, striding over to you quickly. A sob escaped your lips as he grabbed you by the arms, shaking you a bit.

“Dove, what happened? What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

The words began spilling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Azriel was seated at the kitchen table in Rhys’s family cabin, across from Cassian who looked as miserable as he did. It had been a long day of dealing with Devlon and the other Illyrians.

A shadow curled over his ear.

The High Lord approaches. He is angry with you, master.

Azriel swallowed audibly as a wave of darkness overtook the cabin, Rhys stepped out of it looking like a prince from hell, his violet eyes set on him with a burning rage.

Azriel knew the moment he saw Rhys what this was about. He had finally figured it out. He finally knew what was going on between him and his sister. That was the only reason he could think of.

“Azriel!” The High Lord growled, causing Cassian to jump to his feet, his brows furrowed with confusion. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Azriel braced himself but didn’t move. He deserved Rhys’s wrath. He knew he did.

Rhys tackled him, splintering the wooden chair into pieces as the two males landed on the hard ground. Cassian shouted at them to stop but Rhys began to pummel Azriel with his fists.

Azriel didn’t bother fighting back. He just laid on the ground, letting Rhys beat him even as he began to spit up blood.

He always knew this day would come. Knew that he deserved to be beaten into an inch of life for what he had done. He had taken something as pure and good as y/n and fully corrupted her, marked her, ruined her.

He had never deserved to lay his hands on her perfect skin, her perfect body. Not when his hands were so flawed. Not when his hands had done such terrible things.

Suddenly, Rhys was being yanked off of him by Cassian. Rhys growled at his other brother, trying to push him away but Cassian held strong.

“Azriel, get the fuck up,” Cassian grunted. “Why the fuck didn’t you try to fight back?”

Azriel stood, slowly, wiping a hand at the blood that was beginning to dribble down his chin. He spat out more blood, already feeling the bruising that was going to be scattered all over his jaw.

“Because he knows he deserves it,” Rhys snapped. “You fucking piece of shit! I trusted you! I fucking let you into my home, took care of you like a brother, and this is how you repay me?! I swear to the Gods if you don’t get out of my way, Cassian—”

“Stop!” Cassian shouted. “What the fuck is going on? What the fuck happened?”

“Tell him, Azriel, tell him what you’ve done! Tell him how you’ve been messing around with my little sister behind my back!”

Cassian’s eyes widened, his head whipping back and forth behind his brothers. “Rhys, calm down. I don’t know who you heard that from but that can’t be true. Right, Az? I mean, fuck, the bargain we have wouldn’t even—”

“It’s true, Cassian,” Azriel cut him off. “It’s true. Let him go. I deserve this. I fucked up.”

“Azriel,” Cassian murmured in disbelief, his eyes full of disappointment. Azriel couldn’t bear the sight of it.

“You’re fucking sick, Azriel,” Rhys growled. “You held her as a baby! You watched her grow up for fucks sake! I thought I could trust you!”

“Oh fuck you, Rhys,” Azriel said, baring his teeth at the other male. “Don’t make this into something it’s not. I love her! I fucking love her, alright! I always have! And you knew it! That’s why you made us make that fucking bargain with you in the first place!”

“Oh you love her?” Rhys snapped, sarcastically. “You love her so much, huh? Is that why she’s in her room crying over you right now? Is that why you fucking used her to get back at me for telling you to stay away from Elain? I’m going to fucking rip your throat out!”

He lurched forward again, but Cassian took the brunt of his weight, holding him off.

Azriel froze, utterly bewildered.

“Az…what is he talking about? What does he mean you’ve been using y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel spat. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, Rhys. I’m not using y/n and I never even wanted Elain. I was trying to move on from…from loving your sister for gods’ sake.”

Rhys laughed bitterly. “If that’s so, then tell me why my sister came crying to me a few hours ago after catching you and Elain fucking each other?!”

“What!” Cassian swiveled to look at Azriel again. But Azriel looked as shocked as he did.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Rhys? I’ve been here all day with Cassian. I don’t want Elain and I certainly wouldn’t be using your sister to get with her!”

“You’re a fucking liar, Azriel! She showed me what she saw, you prick! Cass, you better fucking let me go—”

“He’s not lying, Rhys,” Cassian interjected. “He really has been here with me all day. I don’t think he’s left my sight once. You can go into my mind and look, but I swear it. If…if what you’re saying is true, then I’ll fucking help you kick Azriel’s ass but I think there’s some miscommunication here.”

“Y/n is in her room crying…because she thinks I’ve been using her? I don’t… I wouldn’t,” Azriel murmured, mostly to himself. “I need to go see her.”

“If you move a single muscle, I swear I’ll tear your mind apart, Azriel,” Rhys yelled. “Don’t you dare even think about seeing her right now! You have no idea what you’ve caused!”

“Rhys, I swear on my life that I haven’t touched Elain since winter solstice! And I would never use your sister. I love her! She’s all that matters to me! I need to go to her. I don’t know what she saw but it wasn’t me!”

“Rhys, please, listen to him. I know you’re upset, I am too, but come on, you know Azriel. Does this really seem like something he would do?”

“I saw her memory of it, Cass. I saw him fucking Elain! I saw him talking about using her!”

Azriel stepped forward, glaring. “I haven’t fucked Elain and I wouldn’t, ever! I don’t understand…I’ve been here with Cass all day.”

“He really has, Rhys. There’s got to be something else going on here…I don’t know what y/n thinks she saw or heard, but it wasn’t Azriel.”

Rhys cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to get home. I need to get to the bottom of this. But this is not over, Azriel! Even if you didn’t use her or cheat on her! You should’ve never even put your hands on her in the first place!”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Cassian pushed him back. “One thing at a time. I think finding out why y/n saw what she did is more important right now!”

Rhys glared at Cassian but backed off. He shot Azriel another scathing look before disappearing into the darkness, winnowing away.

“I need to go, Cass. I need to see her, need to tell her that whatever she saw wasn’t true. I don’t care if you hate me now too, but I won’t let you stop me from going to her.”

“I don’t hate you, Az, but fuck, what were you thinking? I warned you not to hurt his sister,” Cassian sighed, before holding a hand out. “Take me with you.”

Azriel grabbed Cassian’s hand before shadow walking to the River House. The foyer came into view a second later.

Feyre was there examining Rhys’s bloodied knuckles. She peaked over at them as they appeared, her eyes widening as she caught sight of Azriel’s face.

“I tracked down Elain,” Feyre spoke. “She wasn’t even here this morning. She spent the night at Lucien’s apartment.”

She whispered the last part, glancing at Azriel but he wasn’t even paying attention. His eyes were on the staircase that led to Rhys’s sister’s room. He needed to get to her, needed to make sure she knew whatever she had seen wasn’t real.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rhys snapped, his violet eyes glaring into Azriel. “Mor is with her right now. You stay down here, in my sight, until this is dealt with! Don’t think this has absolved you of anything.”

“Rhys, stop,” Feyre barked. “Now is not the time. Can you remember what your sister showed you? Was there anything weird about the memory?”

Rhys let out a frustrated breath. “No—I don’t know. I was too angry to even think.”

“Well, we need to go talk to her,” Feyre said. “Have her show you the memory again. I don’t know how but someone must’ve planted it or something.”

“Why would someone do that?” Cassian questioned. “Who knew that her and Azriel even had a thing together and would try and get in between it?”

Azriel was stewing in his own thoughts, pacing in front of the fireplace. He couldn’t stand this. Couldn’t stand knowing you were upset thinking he had cheated on you and used you for Elain.

“Azriel,” Rhys barked. “Did anyone else know about the two of you? You better be fucking honest or I swear—”

“You’re not being helpful by being angry right now, Rhys,” Feyre cut in.

Azriel racked his brain for anyone who might have known they were together. They had been careful but there was one person…

“Cedric,” Azriel answered. “Cedric knew we were together. He knew she turned down his proposal because of me.”

“The Prince?” Cassian asked. 'Wait, you and y/n have been seeing each other since you traveled to the continent?"

"Cassian, not the time," Feyre snarled again.

Azriel could tell Rhys’s mind was racing with his thoughts and he too, paced back and forth.

“Fuck,” Rhys suddenly cursed loudly, causing Feyre to jump. “The Prince…his family’s magic specializes in illusions. Could he have…but how? Why?”

“Maybe he’s upset she rejected him,” Feyre suggested. “You need to go talk to her. You need to look into that memory again, see if you can poke through it.”

“He can’t talk to her,” Mor said, walking down the stairs and drawing everyone’s attention. “She left for the continent an hour ago. I was packing some of her stuff for her to send over.”

“What? You let her leave?” Rhys shouted. “Where did she go?”

Mor narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t let her do anything. She’s a grown female, Rhys. She went to Vallahan. I guess Prince Cedric said his doors were always open for her and she wanted to get away.”

Rhys cursed again. “No, no! Fuck, Mor! You had one fucking job! Not to let her out of your sight!”

“Well, sorry! I didn’t know we were considering the possibility that someone has been making her see things! She wanted to go and I wasn’t going to stop her.”

“We need to go,” Feyre interjected. “If it is the Prince who caused all of this, then who knows what he’ll do to her now that she’s back over there! He might manipulate her into marrying him.”

“Everyone needs to calm down,” Cassian said. “I have a question. So maybe the Prince knows about her and Azriel, but that doesn’t explain how he knew the background between Azriel and Elain.”

Something clicked in Azriel’s head. “Her journal. Fuck, her journal has been missing. He must’ve stolen it when we were at his castle. You said she left an hour ago, Mor?”

Mor nodded, her mouth in a tight line.

“Shit. That means she’s probably there already,” Azriel growled. “I’m going. I’m leaving right now and I’m going to get her back.”

“No you’re not,” Rhys ordered. “I’ll go and bring her back.”

“We can all go,” Feyre snapped. “Go get in your fighting gear just in case. We’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes so we can go save y/n from that Prince.”

Azriel didn’t need to be told twice.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You brushed your tears away, not wanting anyone to see you had been crying. The castle came into view and you hurried forward, eager to get inside and away from watchful eyes.

You had written a quick letter to Cedric asking if you could visit and he had readily replied with a yes. You needed to get out of the Night Court, needed to get as far away from Azriel as you could.

Your heart was broken, snapped into a million pieces. Your throat was hoarse from sobbing the past few hours. Your entire world had collapsed and you had never felt such despair.

The castle doors finally came into sight, a group of soldiers standing guard with Cedric. He smiled brightly at you as you walked forward.

“Princess! I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon,” he greeted. “Please, come inside!”

You greeted him with a smile, scurrying inside the castle. You turned to face him. “Thank you for letting me come on such short notice, Cedric. I—”

“Seize her.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, at the coldness in his tone. Before you could react, the soldiers surged forward and grabbed you by the arms. You let out a scream, trying to wiggle from their hold as they snapped a pair of faebane handcuffs around your wrists.

“Cedric! What—what are you doing? Let me go!”

Cedric gave you a menacing smile. “You know, I thought this might take a little longer, getting you to come back here. Who knew your insecurities about the shadowsinger ran so deep? I’ll have to send him a thank you after all of this.”

“What are you talking about? Why…unhand me, now! This is…Cedric, what is this? Let me go!”

The soldiers dragged you forward as Cedric stood in front of the doors, hands behind his back looking quite pleased with himself. “Oh no, there is someone very important I need you to meet.”

He grabbed you by the upper arm and a second later, the familiar feeling of winnowing whisked you away.

You landed on soft ground, right beside a lake. Your eyes widened on the shack that sat in the middle of it.

“Cedric, please! Let me go!”

You tried to wiggle out of your restraints but the guards held you with unflinching strength. You let out a tiny scream as a figure emerged from the water. A figure made of smoke.

“Hello, Princess,” Koschei purred. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: ooppp sorry for all the rage/upset I might've caused you with this one. The series is coming to a close though! Two more parts and an epilogue is what I have planned rn! Thank you guys for all your support!

taglist: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @nightless @a-frog-with-a-laptop @woodland-mist @tothestarsandwhateverend @lizziesfirstwife @e-dollly @hyemishii @pricklepearbloom @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @bookishbroadwaybish @pinkangelskies @naturakaashi @sofietargaryen @minakay @alexboshallex @amysangel @i-am-infinite @furiousbooklover @glitterypirateduck @valencia-rou @pinkcowracing @marvelpotter @kennedy-brooke @stupidwingboy @foreverrandomwritings @marvelouslovely-barnes @persephonesong @furiousbooklover @dxjaaaa @kristeristerin @naturakaashi @starlightshowdown @torchbearerkyle @emme-looou @wiseheartzombie @moonlwghts @f4iry-bell @imnotsiriusyouare @val-writesstuff @saltedcoffeescotch @toxic-nathyyy @feiwelinchen @bookslut420 @awkwardnerd @mis-lil-red @exhaustedpotat0 @wallacewillow0773638 @elle4404 @bubybubsters @planetwaynez @kemillyfreitas @furiousbooklover @naturakaashi @marina468 @justbattlecriesdear @pyrostatic @running-writing@esposadomd @aria-chikage @rachelnicolee @daeneeryss @inkedaztec @callsign-magnolia @elle4404 @mell-bell @unstablefemme @running-writing @lostinpages13 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @blessthepizzaman

#acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #rhysand sister #azriel x rhysandssister #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #azriel angst

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meangirls-imagines · 2 months

Text

Coachella Diaries

Description: Reader works for WWE and gets hurt during Wrestlemania, causing her to go on a months long break. She goes to Coachella Weekend 2 to support her girl.

WARNINGS: fluffy as shit, slightly suggestive at the end, reneechella (bc that's a warning itself)

Y/N stepped (as best as she could) off the plane and sighed at the California sun hitting her body.

Her body was exhausted. Wrestlemania was the 6th and 7th, she performed both nights and unfortunately had torn a couple of ligaments in her foot. She worked through the pain and helped make Wrestlemania record breaking. She had gotten surgery on the 16th, which meant she unfortunately missed the first weekend of her girlfriend playing Coachella.

Reneè was also understandably upset, not at Y/N, but at the fact that her girlfriend had to get surgery and she couldn't be there. Luckily for Reneè, Y/N had her fellow superstars keep the blonde updated. The doctor had cleared Y/N for travel on the 18th and she landed in LAX on the morning of the 19th.

Towa had been the one to help Y/N plan this out, picking her up from the airport. The musician smiled as Y/N hobbled towards her with her bag. "There's my favorite cripple! How's the foot?" Y/N smiled and hugged the girl. "It's definitely injured. I'll be out for a minute but honestly, I'm not mad, I need a break."

Towa laughed. "Ain't that the truth? If I have to hear Reneè freak out about every bump you take, I might've gone crazy." Y/N blushed. Reneè was always very protective of Y/N, not that her profession helped with that. The blonde loved and hated watching Y/N do her thing. Yes, Y/N looked hot but if Y/N had to take another spear from Roman Reigns or a stomp to the chest from Finn Balor, Reneè was going to commit murder.

This new era of WWE meant the return of inter-gender wrestling, with Y/N leading the charge. She had become the inaugural WWE World Heavyweight Champion, holding it for 316 days. She had been a part of the two biggest main events of Wrestlemania history, which is where she tore the ligaments in her foot. Never the less, she persisted and opened the next night of Mania, unfortunately she lost her title but the ovation she got when she got backstage was worth it.

She was thrilled to help Cody finish his story but also was happy that she could get a break. She saw the doctor who gave her the diagnosis and what doctor to see and she was on her way.

She had messaged Towa the night she found out and set the surprise up.

As the two ventured out of the airport, they caught up with each other, Towa informing Y/N of her love life and what not. The two reached the SUV and began the drive from the airport to the AirBnB they were renting for the festival. During the two hour car ride, Y/N had told Towa about some backstage drama happening as the Brit ate it up.

After 2 and a half hours, they finally made it to the house. Adam had been standing outside, waiting for them as they pulled up. The man helped Y/N out of the car and gave her a hug. "There's my favorite former champ! Congrats on the run. It was a rollercoaster." Y/N smiled and hugged the man back. "Thanks Adam! It was definitely a rollercoaster! A fun one though! So, where is my girl?"

Adam laughed. "She's out in the back with everyone else, they're pregaming before we go. Are you sure you can handle going out?" Y/N nodded. "I slept on the plane ride here. Perks of using the company jet." Adam nodded as Towa met up with them, handing Y/N her bag. The trio headed inside.

Adam and Towa headed to the back to distract everyone while Y/N slipped into the room Reneè was staying in. She took in a deep breath, breathing in the scent of Reneè. God, she missed it so much. She changed quickly, putting on the custom "Reneèchella made me gay" shirt and some shorts before getting the message from Towa to make her appearance.

She grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed out to the backyard. The group all did a "cheers" before taking the shots provided for them. Y/N decided to speak up. "Do I get a shot too?"

Everyone turned towards the new voice but no one turned quicker than Reneè. The blonde stood shocked at the sight of her girlfriend, boot and all, standing in front of her. "Holy fuck! Reneè ran to where Y/N was standing and hugged the girl tightly. Y/N laughed and kissed the blonde's head. "Hey superstar. I've missed you." Everyone was aww-ing at the scene, some clapping.

Reneè pulled away from the hug and pressed her lips to Y/N's, kissing her for the first time in weeks. The group cheered as the two kissed, causing Reneè to slip them off. After a minute, the two pulled away and Reneè began to scratch the back of Y/N's neck. "You're really here!" Y/N smiled and kissed her nose. "I am. Now I think it's time to have some fun." Reneè smiled and pulled Y/N over to her friends.

The group was watching Chappell Roan absolutely kill it when fans began to notice the couple being all cute.

@y/nisthechamp: GUYS! I'M AT COACHELLA WATCHING THE QUEEN CHAPPELL ROAN AND RENEÈ AND Y/N ARE LITERALLY 10 FEET AWAY FROM ME AND THEY ARE SO CUTE!! Y/N IS HUGGING RENEÈ FROM BEHIND AND THEY ARE SINGING AND DANCING!!

@/reneerappslut23: guys. i just saw a video of reneè and y/n all cozy at coachella and my heart 🥺

@y/nfan123: just saw a video of reneè grinding on y/n while they were watching t-pain. don't know who i wanna be more...

@/reneefan253: guys. reneè cannot keep her hands off y/n. she's always rubbing her back or the back of her head or her shoulder. WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?!

The group made their way back to the house, all breaking off to their respective rooms, sleepily exchanging good nights. Reneè and Y/N made their way to Reneè's room. The two flopped on the bed, Reneè snuggling into Y/N's side. "I'm so glad you're here. I can't wait for you to see me perform." Y/N kissed the blonde's forehead. "Me too baby."

The next day was a lot of the same, more musicians sets, more drinking, etc. Sunday came a lot faster than Y/N expected and she found herself sitting in Reneè's trailer with her, the girl getting ready for her set. Reneè was looking on her phone as her hairstylist finished up her look. Y/N decided to take a stealthy picture and post it on her insta with the caption "coachella ready", tagging Reneè.

Comments started flooding in immediately. One that stood out to Y/N was from her not older sister Liv Morgan.

@/yaonlylivvonce: We are so excited to see her!! Drinks after?

Y/N smiled and responded to the girl. Adam poked his head in and informed Reneè she had five minutes. The blonde thanked him, took a deep breath and pulled Y/N with her to the wings of the stage. To Y/N and Reneè's surprise, Alyah was waiting for them. Reneè squealed, wrapping Alyah in a tight hug. Y/N smiled at the pair and took a picture of them hugging. Alyah pulled away and hugged Y/N too, scolding her about her injury and how she should've been more careful.

Reneè saved Y/N by pulling her away from Alyah, wrapping her arms around Y/N's waist and burying her face in her neck. Y/N rubbed the blonde's back. "You're gonna do amazing out there Reneè. Please remember to drink water though. Don't need you passing out on stage." Reneè chuckled as she heard her intro being played.

"Well, I guess that's me." Reneè pulled her head out of Y/N's neck, leaning up for a kiss. "I love you." Y/N smiled and pecked Reneè's lips. "I love you more. Now go kill it." And with a playful smack on the butt, Reneè went out on stage.

"Tasted the blood in my mouth, and left you there to bleed out.."

Y/N being there must have flipped a switch in Reneè because the girl was putting on a SHOW. Y/N had to keep herself from drooling watching her girlfriend do what she loved. Y/N's fav part do far had to be the Willow ass shake. For scientific reasons, of course. Y/N saw Towa getting her in-ears put in and grabbing her guitar. "Go kill it out there, Birdie." Towa winked playfully at Y/N and went out on her cue from the blonde.

The two were soon joined by Coco Jones as they performed "Tummy Hurts". Y/N smiled at hoe happy her girl looked. Watching Reneè perform was Y/N's favorite thing to do. She loved how confident Reneè was on stage and how carefree she looked.

After a beautiful rendition of "Snow Angel", Reneè gave her thanks to the crowd and jogged off stage. One of the crew guys poured a little bit of water on the back of Renee's neck, to cool her off, as the girl walked straight into Y/N's open arms, almost collapsing in the embrace.

"Fuck Reneè, I'm so fucking proud of you, superstar." Reneè blushed and hid her face in Y/N's neck. "I couldn't have done it without you here." Y/N laughed and kissed the blonde's temple. "You did it last weekend." Reneè pulled away from Y/N's neck and smiled at her. "Yeah, but it wasn't as fun." Y/N rolled her eyes and kissed Reneè, unaware of Towa taking a picture of them.

Everyone praised Reneè and her performance before they walked back to the area where her trailer was. Alyah spoke up. "So, what's the plan now?" Reneè smirked and looked at Y/N. "Well, Y/N and I are going to go back to the house to...catch up and we'll meet you guys later?" Towa and Alyah shared a knowing look before nodding and going to watch another set.

Y/N looked at Reneè confused. "Catch up?" The blonde nodded. "Mhhm. I'm planning on reclaiming my favorite seat..." Y/N caught on and blushed, allowing the blonde to pull her to the car waiting for them.

Yeah, Towa and Alyah would be fine on their own for a while...

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp imagine #renee rapp

300 notes · View notes

formulaforza · 9 months

Note

💐 hi my wonderful birthday girl !! so i was thinking about a dress coded lewis blurb (because i was born a lewis and ts girl) where they just get drunk together and there’s teases flying and stuff. keep it as brief as u wish <333

—you can take it off

lewis hamilton x merc!reader summ. thank you stephy i love u bad <3 inspo from... ur never gonna believe it... this. hope it's up to your standards my love. 2.7k (kind of got out of hand)

You were half-asleep and half-drunk the night of the Belgium Grand Prix. The air was cool, recycled like all air seems to be in hotels, smelled of too-strong perfume and was filled with the dull noise of elevator jazz. What had begun as a before-we-go-to-bed night cap in the hotel bar with Bono had turned into a seemingly never ending addition of guests.

Valtteri was first to join—never could pass up the opportunity to give you shit, to offer you job postings at Alfa Romeo that weren’t job postings at all—and with him around, there’s no casual drinking. You don’t try to keep up, not really, because you know you don’t stand a chance, but also because he would never let you. After all these years of being just a few months younger than him, he still calls you kiddo, still promises to call your parents when you’re out after dark, and always sends you a text after a race with some… questionable strategy decisions you’re catching flack for online.

A brief appearance from Toto and Susie, just long enough for them to know they had no business trying to go drink for drink with Valtteri, and then they’re wishing all three of you a wonderful summer break and retreating to whatever room is considered prestige enough for Motorsport’s it-couple.

And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours.

It’s somewhere between drink number five and six that Lewis gets his first, insists on a toast to the summer break that officially began… six hours and fifty-three minutes ago. For a long season this and a too-short summer break that, you lot had a mouthful of things to complain about, but a million more to be grateful for. “To not having work for a month,” Lewis proposes, clinking his glass against yours, offering a quick wink and holding it up properly over the table.

“To no racing-talk for a few weeks,” Bono adds, clinking his glass against Lewis’.

“To summer-fucking-break,” Valtteri chimes in, laughing at himself before the rest of you get the chance to match it.

“To summer fucking break,” you repeat because you know there’s no better way to sum it all up.

Unlike the other two, you slowed down when Lewis joined, wanted to give him time to catch up, to give yourself time to meet him somewhere in the middle. A glass of water and a virgin rum and coke and another water and the night is still young.

“First summer break as the big boss, kiddo,” Valtteri remarks, and you have to squint to hear him through the alcohol-induced thickening of his accent.

“That’s right!” Bono laughs. Your cheeks run hot at their mention of your title, of your promotion following James’ departure earlier in the season. Lewis smiles against the rim of his glass, bumps his foot against yours and doesn’t give you apologetic eyes. No, he raises his brows so slightly you think you’re the only one that notices, which is probably exactly the way he intended it to be. “Little miss queen of strategy is making the big money now, got any big travel plans?”

Lewis clears his throat, and your eyes dart over to his almost instinctively. “You’re staying in London, yeah?”

He’s right. Your summer-break plans consist of four weeks of trying to remember what it feels like to do nothing, failing at that task pathetically, and spending the rest of the time meticulously picking apart every call you’ve made all season and imagining the million and one things you could’ve done differently and their billion and two outcomes.

You pick apart the drink napkin, tear it into tiny little pieces. “Yeah, yeah. Just staying home, catching up with friends and family,” you clarify, try not to sound as pathetic as you feel. It’s hard not to when you’re sitting next to the guy who spends his offseason snowboarding in Antarctica with his celebrity friends and his weeks off traveling to Paris fashion week for front row seats next to supermodels. Anything you say would sound pathetic to someone who makes thirty-five million a year.

“I love it,” he nods, stares right through you and into your soul so you know he’s being genuine. “That’s awesome.”

You nod, swallow hard, purposely angle your body away from his, to the rest of the group. “What about you guys?”

Lewis laughs, soft, quiet, completely under his breath. The kind of laugh that deserves to be bottled into a jar and kept on a shelf for safe keeping. You know he’s always laughed like that, even before he knew you, but in the last few months it just feels different. Good different, like he’s laughing just for you now instead of everyone else too.

You know you’re crazy, that he’s just Lewis being Lewis and you’re just single for the first time in a long time and also drunk. Not half drunk anymore, just drunk—even if you do think you’re meeting him in the middle, you’re not. He’s just chasing after.

“Back home, too,” Bono concludes. “Take a breather, might head up to the country with the family.”

“You’ll take pictures, yeah?” Lewis asks, starts to pick up the pieces of your napkin tear pile and move them in front of him like a kid who isn’t patient enough to share or destructive enough to rip up his own. You watch in your peripheral, the way he fiddles with the wet paper, gets it stuck to his fingertips. You can’t laugh, so you don’t, but you want to. You think he knows you want to.

Bono scoffs, nods while swallowing a sip of his drink—something dark, something pungent. Not what you would have pegged him for ordering, even after knowing him as long as you have. “So I can compare with the likes of you lot and,” he turns to Lewis, leers around you to emphasize the eyeline, “your million dollar vacations or,” and then the other way, back to Valtteri, “your olympic cycling events?”

Valtteri smiles, swirls his drink—gin, you think. Expensive. “Yes.”

“No chance.”

“I’ll be sure to send you a picture of me having a meltdown when I think about our side pods from the beginning of the year,” you chime in, because it’s not like they all don’t know you well enough to know exactly what you mean by spending time with friends and family at home.

“What sidepods?” Lewis chuckles.

“Fucking exactly,” you add, mirror his mannerisms without even realizing it, all the way down to readjusting in your seat when you’ve had your laugh.

“Could be worse,” Bono offers. “Could be last year.”

Lewis nods, holds his drink up in the direction of Valtteri across the table. “We never should have let you leave.”

He smiles, weak, lips pursed. “I could have told you that.”

The night continues on, all drinks and laughs and yawns, occasional remarks that it’s about time I head up, followed by another round, another joke, another comment about this, that, or the other thing.

You’ve always liked Lewis when he’s a little tipsy. He lightens up a bit, you can actually watch the stress drip from him like sweat, all the titles and the wins and the losses, they all just fall away when he’s relaxed like this. You’ve always liked him like this. Always. Before he was king of the world and before he was the prodigal son and every moment in between.

After every joke he makes—or, after every comment he makes that he thinks could be considered a joke—you find yourself laughing, because it’s Lewis and you have a crush on him and of course you do. And, without fail, everytime you laugh, he winks, like you’re in on some inside joke even though he’s making it to the whole table, like there’s some double meaning to all of his words that are meant just for you, just for the two of you to understand.

Somewhere in it all, it comes back to Lewis, because, well, it always does. “Is your back still bothering you?” Bono asks, and you think you already know the answer. You think you know, because you can’t remember the last time you;d seen him take careful consideration of his posture when he sits. Not even now is he sitting up straight, with his legs perfectly spread a shoulder’s width apart and his feet flat on the floor. Instead, he’s taking up more room than he needs to, all relaxed and comfortable on the leather booth bench.

He swipes his thumb over the condensation of his glass, looking up from the action at you, and then to Bono. “No, no. All good there.”

“All good?” Bono prods, because he was on the receiving end of a year and a half of complaints from Lewis.

Lewis nods, clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “No Paracetamol in a month.”

Across the table, Valterri chimes in. “None?”

“None for my back,” Lewis says, and the whole table laughs. You just watch him, though, because who laughs better than he does? You could wax poetic about it without a second thought, the way that his lips upturn and his cheeks round and his eyes crinkle and go soft in a way that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world even when you’re not making a joke. The way that his smile is brighter than anyone’s you’ve ever seen, and the way that if you look at it for too long, you think about how it would feel to run your finger along the gap in his teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” Valtteri mutters off the end of his laugh. “You're getting old.”

“Not too old to make half a million.”

The entire table’s heads fly to him. You gasp, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “You didn’t!” You almost yell, smacking his upper arm with a weak hand.

He mocks your gasp, makes it somehow more dramatic and over the top and laughs sweetly, shrugging your hand off his arm and letting his hand fall to your leg, bumping your foot with his again. “I didn’t.” The table chuckles, you pout, and then you realize that his hand is on your thigh, that it’s staying there quite comfortably, and that you mind it less than he does.

“Don’t be a tease,” you sigh, take a swig of your drink. Your knees are suddenly weak, like you know you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you wanted to. It’s like he can sense your change but can’t quite read it, because then he’s moving his hand back to his own lap, interlocking it with the other and resting it there.

He nods, suddenly shy, suddenly guilty. “It’s as good as done.”

Valtteri laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” You hear what he says, but you’re not listening, not really. Lewis stares into you like he wants to look anywhere else—apologetic eyes and a fear he’s taken a misstep. He hasn’t, you want to tell him. You haven’t, put your hand back, please. Silently, you try to convey what shouldn’t dare be spoken. “I’ll believe it when pen is on paper.”

He snaps his eyes away from you, back to Valtteri. You don’t follow suit, stay fixed on him, on trying— hard—to get your message across. “I’m telling you, they’re announcing it after the summer break.”

“Whatever you say, Mate.”

Bono nods around a mouthful of alcohol, sets his half-empty glass down with an incidental thud. “Who’s to say we still want your geriatric ass?”

Lewis raised his interlocked hands from his lap, to the tabletop, resting his elbows on the wood grain and rattling the empty glasses when he does it. He leans in towards the center of the table, even though the only person separating him and Bono is you. “Would you tell Schumacher ‘no?’”

“What was that?” You ask, your words a convenient excuse to lean in closer, to settle into a spot that much closer to him without raising any brows. To brace for the shift, you leave your hand on his thigh with less subtly than your original movement, but it’s okay. It’s okay—only Lewis knows where your hands are, and you don’t want it to be subtle, don’t want anything to be lost in translation. “I can’t hear you over your ego,” you smile, and your fingers dance up his leg just a few, careful inches.

He drops back into his seat, drops his hands back into his lap. Under the table, he grabs yours and laughs, but it’s stifled, stunted, not quite relaxed. “Very funny,” he humors, and moves your hand back. His stays too, though, and he crosses one leg over the other under the table. His thumb moves over the fabric of your slacks in shudder-worthy circles.

“Someone’s gotta check you,” you smile, nod in the direction of your tablemates without ever looking away from him. “These two won’t.”

Bono scoffs.“Are you kidding?”

Your smile grows. “How do you want me to answer that, Peter?”

“Damn,” Lewis laughs so hard he coughs. “She Peter-ed you. That’s cold.”

“You’re the one comparing yourself to Michael fucking Schumacher,” Bono scolds.

“I didn’t say that, but,”

“But!” You interject.

“But,” Lewis laughs, threatens to continue even though all at the table know he won’t, knows that no matter how often the media and the girlfriends and the friends and the family tell him he should put himself up there with the greatest, he’ll never quite see himself in the same light. “But it’s about time I head up, I think.”

“Ah, see,” Valtteri chuckles. “Old man Hamilton can’t hang.”

“No, he can not,” Lewis remarks, pulling his phone and his hotel keycard from his pocket, setting the latter on the table and if you were feeling a little crazier than you are, you’d swear he nudges it ever so slightly out of his bubble and into yours. He types away rapidly at his phone, and you try to pay attention to the jokes Bono and Valtteri throw around, the pokes at Lewis they make, but suddenly you’re feeling like it’s a good time to head up, too. You try to shake the crazy, to leave it with your backwash in the final sip of your drink, and you do. You do.

You do, but then he’s slipping his phone back into his pocket. He’s leaving his glass just beyond his keycard and telling you to feel free to finish it. He’s saying his goodbyes while he moves out of the booth and his hotel room key is still sat on the table next to you. It stares at you—the hard, thin plastic. Stares at you in its white paper pocket with the intricate printing of the hotel label and dares you to look at him when he walks away.

You do, begrudgingly, subtly, and his eyes are already on yours. They’re expressionless, and yet, say so fucking much. You hold the remainder of his drink in his direction before downing it in a single gulp and then he winks at you. He looks at his keycard on the table, and then to you, and then he winks, and you’re sure you’re absolutely crazy.

You swallow.

“Oh, fuck,” Bono says, reaches over you to grab the keycard from the table. It’s like you were zoned out and he snapped in front of your face, the way it pulls you from Lewis to the table. “He forgot his key.”

“Oh,” you squeak, and then louder, “I can take it to him.”

“No, no, It’s okay,” Bono says, and he makes you stand up to get out of the booth. “I should be heading up anyway.”

“Really,” you half-insist, trying to convince him you can handle it without letting him in on why you’re convincing him. “It’s no problem.”

Bono pulls out his wallet, flips through the pockets of it and fiddles with his bills. “Our rooms are right by each other,” he insists, tosses his share onto the table. “I got it.”

“Okay,” you nod, accept your defeat. “Yeah, I should be heading up, too, I guess.”

942 notes · View notes

bagopucks · 6 months

Text

J. Drysdale - Orange, Orange, Orange

✄————————————

Jamie Drysdale x Fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning(s): cuss words, reader wanting to strangle Trevor✨

—————————————

Everybody has their own playoff traditions. For most teams, it’s the beards. And every stadium also has a different approach. For the Anaheim Ducks and Honda Center, it’s ‘Paint It Orange.’

Jamie and Trevor go all out. Their apartment gets decorated completely. Orange throw pillows, orange plates and cups, orange shower curtain. Anything that can be replaced for cheap during the playoffs. It’s atrocious. I love seeing my boyfriend and his clingy bestie, but god I hate seeing that orange. It’s too much.

Do I tell them that? Absolutely not.

The boys love it. They love getting into the playoff spirit, and I’d even venture to say it’s a ritual now. A superstition that they add to every year. This year I was anticipating orange drapes or maybe even an orange carpet.. but I couldn’t have been farther from the right idea.

Trevor and Jamie had been radio silent all day. Both in our group chat and in individual texts. It was unlike them. Especially Jamie, who always texted me in the morning. I was suspicious, but I didn’t think too much into it. We were coming up on the first playoff game. Two days away. It was likely that they were only anxious. Antsy.

I thought maybe a quick box of donuts might be nice. I swung by a local donut shop and picked up two dozen before making the drive to their place. Jamie always enjoyed the jelly filled and chocolate covered ones, but Trevor had so many things he enjoyed that it was hard to remember all the flavors. And knowing these boys and their appetites, it was safer to get two dozen.

When I got to their place, I gently kicked their door with my foot a few times, seeing as my hands were full. I heard a faint, ‘coming’ from Trevor. I eyed the orange wreath on their door while I waited. It was new. That must have been the addition for this year’s playoff run. They hadn’t had one in a while. I would have expected something more drastic to celebrate.

When the door opened, I was met with a shirtless Trevor. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail -no doubt one I left behind at some point- and his shorts were covered in orange. His arms had a bit of the orange substance on them as well. My brow furrowed.

“Hey! You brought us donuts. That’s awesome.” Trevor smiled, “can you bring ‘em inside? Just toss them on the counter.” He stepped aside, letting me in before he shut the door and locked it.

“Trevor, what’s going on?” I asked as I walked through the house, greeted by the ugly oranges of their decorations. I set the boxes of donuts on the counter, opening one to pull out one of the jelly filled treats. I took a bite out of it as I turned to look at Trevor.

“Stuff.” He answered, nodding a little too dramatically for me to believe him.

“Where’s Jamie?”

“Out.” I didn’t like or believe that answer either.

“Doing what?” I pressed on.

“Hey! Who’s that?” I heard Jamie shout, his voice echoing from a room I could only assume was the bathroom. Trevor’s face fell the moment he knew he’d been caught in his own lie.

“It’s your girlfriend! She brought us donuts!” Trevor called, the volume of his voice irritating my ears. I winced.

“You’re such a liar, Trevor.” I scoffed out, shaking my head at him.

“Tell her to come here! She can help!” Even yelling, Jamie’s voice sounded soft.

Trevor looked at me with a cautious gaze, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Why don’t you want me here?” I immediately asked, accusation in my tone. Trevor refused to answer right out.

“Oh boy…” he mumbled. Clearly, he knew whatever I was about to see, I was not going to like. “Come on.”

I followed incredibly close behind Trevor, contemplating a few times, simply pushing him out of the way. But once we got to the bathroom, I was glad we’d taken our time getting there. It gave me time to brace myself.

The gasp I drew in was second to none, horrified and surprised in the worst ways.

I stood there in shock for maybe a total of ten seconds. A ticking time bomb.

“So… you like it?” The optimism in Trevor’s voice set me off.

“What the fuck?” I shouted, staring down at my shirtless boyfriend and his lathered orange hair. “Jamie! What the fuck?”

Trevor was standing behind me, and I could tell the boys were looking at each other when my boyfriend’s eyes drifted past me.

“This is why I told you not to invite her.” Trevor mumbled. I spun on my heels.

“Because I don’t want my boyfriend looking like..” I paused, looking back at Jamie. He flashed me a nervous smile. “Like the Lorax?” I wasn’t necessarily angry.. just.. caught off guard. Nobody informed me of this. Nobody told me I was going to have to look at Jamie like this for possibly months.

“So you don’t like it?” Jamie’s smooth voice piped up, causing my tense gaze to move from Trevor back to the once dark haired man. I pursed my lips, trying to calm myself as I noticed the concern in Jamie’s features.

“I’ll be honest with you J.. I don’t. No.” His face fell. I shook my head as I kicked my shoes off and stepped onto the dirty towels on the floor. I glanced at him in the mirror, then back down to his figure sitting on a foldable chair. I immediately reached for a silky lock of wet orange hair, still covered in fresh dye. “Oh my god…” I mumbled, feeling like a mother with her child.

“That bad, huh?” Jamie inquired, eyeing my reflection in the mirror.

“I love you.. just.. not your orange hair.” He was slow to nod. Jamie never liked knowing I didn’t like something. I always tried to tell him that it didn’t matter. Just because I didn’t like something, didn’t mean he needed to change it or throw it away. But he always wanted to make me happy. I could tell though, that this stressed him out. Because he couldn’t easily fix this.

“It’s not that bad.” Jamie tried to reason.

“No it’s pretty bad.” I wanted to card my hands through his hair, but I couldn’t. These idiots. God knows what this would turn out like. “Jame- your hair is so dark.. what if this turns out looking like shit? Like actual shit? Did you guys even bleach it enough?” Jamie, nor Trevor had a good response. So instead, my boyfriend opted to change the topic.

“Trevor‘s gonna do it too.” I looked back at Trevor while Jamie’s eyes were fixed on himself in the mirror.

Trevor shook his head with a snicker. My brow furrowed at his amusement, and the lines connected when I noticed Trevor was not worried about his own perfect hair.

I realized quickly that this was not a playoff ritual. This was Trevor tricking his best friend into something embarrassing. I would have considered it a prank if I didn’t know how humiliated Jamie would be once he found out.

I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to grab Trevor by the hair and throw him off the roof. Instead, I came up with a much less hostile approach.

“Thats really sweet of you Trev. At least if it ends badly Jamie won’t look… orange all alone.” I cooed. Trevor looked confused, but I let him off the hook for a moment.

“I don’t like this look.. I really don’t, but if it’s for playoffs, I understand. How much longer does this have to sit, J?” I asked, watching him reach for his phone on the stained counter.

“Thirty more minutes.” I nodded gestured for him to move and sit on the edge of the bath tub. He did so with ease.

“You want this?” I presented the donut I took a bite of to him, and Jamie quickly reached for it. He mumbled a sheepish, ‘thanks,” in return.

“Trevor,” I immediately turned to him. “I’ll help you with your hair.”

It was Trevor’s turn to be concerned, shaking his head and laughing anxiously.

“No.. no.. J’s got it.” He took a step back to escape the bathroom.

“No, I insist. I’d rather it not get anywhere else on Jamie anyway. His arm hair doesn’t need to be orange too. Come on.” I grabbed his arm, pulling him a bit forcefully back into the bathroom.

“I think it’ll look so good on you, Trev.” I taunted as I pushed him down into the chair. “J, can you go get me a drink from the fridge?” Jamie looked up from his phone and nodded, slipping out of the bathroom.

“Fuck you Trevor,” I hissed quietly, “you know how embarrassed he would have been? He probably would’ve chopped all his hair off.” Trevor’s eyes quickly found the floor. I wondered if he even thought this idea through entirely.

“I wish you wouldn’t be so rough on him sometimes. He’s not you, Trev.” My tone softened -though the annoyance remained- as I glanced down at all of the items on the counter. I reached for the bleach and prepped it before grabbing a spare pair of gloves, slipping them on.

“This one was pretty bad, huh?” Trevor muttered, right before Jamie returned with the water. I flashed him a smile as he set it on top of the toilet.

“Getzlaf‘s gonna love this look on you guys.” I was quick to change the subject, beginning to lather the bleach in Trevor’s hair. He may not have even needed it, but I decided to go with it for safe measure. I peeked over at Jamie, who was watching with curious eyes. I realized he already had another donut in hand. I also realized, that the poor kid’s eyebrows were still as dark as can be.

“He’ll support us.” Trevor reasoned.

“I’m sure he will.” Sarcasm laced my tone.

“I think we’ll look pretty cool.” Jamie’s excitement made me feel bad for knowing what I did about Trevor’s plans. And it made me feel bad for disagreeing in my head.

“The coolest, J.” I responded, trying to sound genuine.

It took me around ten minutes to get Trevor’s hair covered well. At that point, it was a waiting game for Jamie. Another fifteen minutes went by where I sat by my boyfriend on the lip of the bath tub, leaning on him as he scrolled through his phone, occasionally moving an orange lock from his eyes that kept falling astray. His mother didn’t like it when his hair got too long, I could only imagine what she’d say when she saw it was a whole new color.

When Jamie’s hair timer had gone off, I made Trevor go and grab me a cup. I helped Jamie sit on the floor and lean his head back into the bath tub, sighing to myself as I turned the bath tub on and found a comfortable temperature for the water.

When Trevor returned with the cup, I took it from him and filled it, resting my hand over Jamie’s eyes as I poured the first round of water through his hair, pushing my fingers through after. This was gonna take a while.

“I’ve seen you blonde.. but this is something else..” I mumbled. I did find momentary joy in the way Jamie’s eyes were closed, enjoying the feeling of having someone wash his hair. His orange hair.

“If this comes out bad, I’m taking you both to the local salon.” I added, getting to a point where the orange didn’t completely stain the water as it went down the drain. I turned off the tub faucet and asked Trevor to get me a towel, which he came back with faster than the cup.

“It’s not Carla,” Trevor shook his head. I glared at him.

“I don’t really care who it is. You’ll go unless you want to look like an off brand red head.” Jamie’s eyes opened, worriedly looking between me and his best friend.

I grabbed the towel from Trevor and turned back to my boyfriend, wrapping the towel around his hair and squeezing it a few times before I helped him sit up, and draped the towel over his shoulders.

“Move.” Trevor didn’t look very pleased that I was kicking him out of his seat, but he did nonetheless. Jamie slipped back into the foldable chair, and I bent over to search the cabinet beneath the sink for my spare hair dryer. When I spotted it, I was quick to pull it out.

I eyed the cord for a moment. “I don’t wrap my hairdryer cords like this.” I glanced between both boys, curious as to who had used my dryer while I was away.

“Sometimes my hair doesn’t dry fast enough before I go out.” Jamie’s gentle confession made my gaze soften.

I plugged the cord into the outlet and opened the medicine cabinet to grab one of the combs inside.

“Wait that’s mine!” I glared over at Trevor before putting the comb back and grabbing the other. Part of me wanted to snap his in half. Torturing Jamie and he still thought he could sit there and make requests.

I turned the hair dryer on, pointing it down at my lover as I slowly ran his comb through his hair. He looked pleased with all the attention. I didn’t mind it.. I just wished I could have given it to him under other circumstances that didn’t involve orange hair.

As his hair dried, the orange took on a much lighter look. Still hideous, but it looked like it would match the jerseys. Jamie took a few pictures of it.

When I had his hair mostly dry, I turned the dryer off and set it on the counter with the comb. I ran my fingers through his hair a few times, ruffling and fixing the part, before I leaned forward to press a kiss to his head.

“Do you like it now?” Jamie spoke softly, his eyes searched my expression in the mirror.

“It’ll grow on my eventually.” I tapped his shoulder. “You wanna help me finish Trev?”

“Oh! Yeah!”

“Trevor sit on the floor and lean your head over the bath.”

I repeated the process of washing hair with Trevor, this time with the help of Jamie, who really just handed me shampoo when I needed it.

When I had his hair washed and towel dried, I had him and Jamie switch places again, and I began to dry Trevor’s hair- with his own comb. After I was sure every strand was no longer damp, I put my dryer away and set Trevor’s comb aside.

“I think when we’re done, you guys should send some photos to your mothers.” I advised, smiling to myself at the thought of either woman’s reaction.

Jamie’s head shot up from his phone. Had he not considered his mother as a factor before agreeing to this?

“She’s gonna flip…”

He hadn’t.

“Oh my god, Jamie-“ I hid my face in my hands to mask my frustration.

“Can you call her with me?” His request was met with a reluctant no from myself.

“You made your bed, lover. And this one you have to lay in alone.” I chuckled. “Good luck.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jamie drysdale blurb #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras

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tigressaofkanjis · 5 months

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My biggest pet peeve in Transformers media and fanfiction sometimes is that Transformers aren't treated as aliens. They are referred to as aliens, they obviously are aliens, but they never feel like they are aliens because they are always written or seen as having all human mannerisms or features usually. Human posture, human noses, human mannerisms, humanoids...

What about TFA's cat noses or TFP's helm noses? One of the reasons I think those two shows have peak designs is because they have this lack of uncanniness to humans design wise. I'm not looking at a human being as a robot, I'm looking at an alien robot, ones that have claws, ones that have different body types that blend with their vehicle modes, ones with horrific mutilations and designs impossible by human standards. I love seeing that type of stuff in Transformers because to me, it makes them feel alien without completely changing the premises of similarities to where we can't compare their culture or likeness to humans. The films (mostly 1 and 2) showed off this as well.

Another thing I really would like to see in Transformers media is non-human interactive qualities. What do I mean by that? One thing I've noticed is aside from techno-organic species, regular Cybertronians do have a few qualities found in animals. Engine humming I believe was once used as a form of purring in the films and in some of the cartoons. Humans can't purr; cats can, and that small detail is always interesting to come across because it's like "wow, they have this feature that shows off a trait found in Cybertronians. That is so cool." You have them with multiple voice boxes for mechanical, natural, and human-like tones which is also an animal trait. Bumblebee is self-explanatory in most universes being able to still make sounds yet not talk. They have sensors across their body that don't act like the basic human receptors. Most animals can do more than just feel through certain points of their bodies. They can taste, smell, or even hear a hundred times better than a human being throughout various body parts, and Transformers have been hinted to have this ability too, especially through their servos. It's stuff like this that expands upon their existence as aliens.

They have extreme durability, their body morphs to extremes and can also double as a moving weapon (most obvious of course), some of them can make ungodly roars and creature-like noises to warn or show their threatening demeanor (Megatron's dinosaur-like growling), some can have two rows of teeth (a flat base in front and fangs hidden behind), and some of them have mimicking animal-like features (Starscream's bird-shaped feet with visible expansion the same as organic foot padding with similar distributive weight physics in a few universes) despite having no beast mode. There's probably more I can't think of on the top of my head in canon, but all those things are not heavily used as they should be to make them feel alien. They can still hold some relation to the humans they interact with, but I think a lot of Transformers are more than just metal "humans", you know?

Depending on the universe in fanfiction and who you encounter who writes it or not, you have several things that are always cool to see. They have to sparkbond (merging of hearts) above everything else to create a sparkling's life force with interface as just the extra for physical coding features. I've seen people use the non-canon heat cycles which are, of course, our fandom way of making a type of breeding euphemism akin to an animal's cycle. You have the common phrasing of nuzzling, heightened senses, armor and certain parts of the helm acting like fur or ears where it raises and flattens per their mood, and some Transformers have limb dissonance where if necessary, they can convert between bipedal and quadrupedal stances (best example is Bulkhead and Lugnut from TFA who have long arms but short legs and they have the bulky structure where they could possibly run like an animal briefly and the physics of it would work).

So, you have all these different things a common Cybertron most likely would be able to do or have but a human couldn't, and it's never utilized to their full potential. I would like to see people address the nature of Cybertronians as alien and not be afraid to make them alien. I think that's the biggest flaw in our franchise is that everyone is scared of making the Transformers not the humanoid "norm" and getting ridiculed for it. Like, they're aliens, you can make them act however animal-like or completely batshit insane as you want them. You can give them powers, animal-based senses, and behaviors hidden among a human thought process. And technically, you wouldn't be wrong to what they could be as a living creature in the universe by doing so. They aren't humans; they look humanoid, but they aren't us. Why should they have to be in every regard?

Thank you for reading my TED Talk.

#transformers #transformers prime #transformers animated #bayverse #knightverse #transformers g1 #transformers robots in disguise #transformers idw #megatron #bumblebee #tfa #tfp #bulkhead #lugnut #tigressa talks #personal #ranting #fanfiction

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befemininenow · 1 year

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Are you a trans girl or non-conforming and would like to try out feminine clothing? You may want to check this out.

Say you found this dress online and you really love the overall style of it. Great! If you’re like me, you would say “F it! I’ll buy the dress and I’ll wear it how I like!” and move on with your life. That should the end of this guide, right? Except, there is one little problem: not everybody thinks this way. Those who look for the best matching outfits aren’t just searching to fit their style, color, or personality. It also has to do with their body type. If you’re in that situation, this guide may help you out.

Body shape

Believe it or not, there are many different types of body shape (up to 10). However, the most common tend to be the following (in no order):

Rectangle- Even distribution on shoulders, hips, and waistline

Pear/Triangle- Wide hips, well-defined waist, small shoulders

Hourglass- Near-exact hip and shoulder measurements, thinner waistline

Inverted Triangle- Broader shoulders, narrower hips, little waist definition

Apple/Round- Broad shoulders and big bust, thin legs and hips

Many transgender women have the inverted triangle body shape due to several factors such as genetics, bone structure, and age. However, your body shape may also change over time due to a rebalancing of hormones, body fat, and even lifestyle. While you can’t change your bone structure, you can change your body definition through exercises.

Body proportion

Here is something you may find useful if you’re looking to customize your look. Body proportions are unique to every individual and play a factor on clothing and to some extent, accessories such as jewelry. For instance, you may find the skirt you bought looks either too long or short. There are a few areas where to measure your body proportions such as wrist length or neck size. But the best way to improve your dress type is by following the “golden ratio rule” of dividing your body into three:

The way this is read is you’re either one-third top, two-thirds bottom, or you’re two-thirds top, one-third bottom. Once you get more knowledge, you can go upwards even eighths! But for now, the focus is on these two outcomes.

The two-thirds top, one-third bottom words well with long dresses:

while the one-third top, two-thirds bottom works well with more casual clothing:

Body measurements

Now that we got a few problems out of our way, it’s time to figure out what measurements you have. The best way to find out is by using a mirror and a soft measuring tape for body. Measure all the crucial parts of your body, which are the waist, hips, shoulders, and bust. This will determine the type of body you have and have a better idea on what length you will need to try out your clothing of choice.

Shoe size

One thing very important about an outfit is choosing footwear. Although you can use your old Converses with your flared jeans, you’re certainly not going to use them with a ruffled dress. You’re definitely going to want heels or flats! Unfortunately, women’s shoe size are not exactly the same as men. But don’t give up! Fortunately, there are women’s size conversion charts that help you choose what shoe size you need.

To find out your measurements on your own, grab at least two blank pieces of paper, a pencil or pen, and a measuring tape. Place your foot firmly forward and carefully trace around the outer area of your foot. Repeat this with your other foot. Once finished, grab your measuring tape and measure from your highest point to your lowest on both sheets. Measure the width as well. If both feet measure close to 10.5, your women’s size is a 12. However, due to a difference in manufacturing based on shoe brand, as well as shoe type like pumps, the average recommended size is at least 2 inches above your actual size. For those living in other countries that don’t use the US measuring size, I left a chart that shows all the possible measurements you may use to convert your shoe size into women’s size.

What to wear based on body type

Since not all clothing is made for everyone, it’s time to list what is considered the “ideal” clothing choices based on body type. Note that these are opinions from my source’s authors. IMO, the pictures below each suggestion are a better opinion. Your are free to choose your type of clothing.

Rounded or apple shapes fit best with monochrome colors and make the person look more “fit”.

Pear or triangle shapes look more balanced with decorative accessories on top while keeping the bottom more plain.

Rectangle shapes tend to have more volume with a waist belt while pleated pants give more volume on hips.

Hourglass shapes look best when wearing bodycon dresses and cardigans to emphasize volume in their waistline.

Inverted triangle shapes pull off the wide leg pants and fitted top combo the best.

For a much more comprehensive guide for each body type, I highly recommend reading The Concept Wardrobe’s guides. It gives more details on what to wear and how to choose the best combinations. Link is provided here: https://theconceptwardrobe.com/search?query=body+frame

Tips on what to wear

Now that you reached this point, I’m pretty sure you’re excited to try out what your heart desires. However, before you go out and buy that two-piece dress, I recommend researching and observing the type of clothing women wear today. Believe it or not, people will judge based on your way of dressing, from background to social status to age. A simple look like bodysuit and jeans may look perfect on you and blend you in with the girls, but something like a hot pink bodycon will make you stand out, and most likely not in a good way. So how would you choose something that blends you in with society, but also be comfortable at the same time? Here are some tips and pics:

Find clothing that “feels” feminine. In other words, buy clothing that “feminizes” your body, such as tops that make your shoulders look shorter, wrap dresses that make your waistline shorter, and skirts that make your hips look wider.

Find the best colors based on skin tone and hair color. For instance, try out warm colors such as orange if your skin tone is warm.

Dress sexy, but never go too revealing. Seriously, have some respect to yourself. But if you really want to go out wearing, for example, a two-piece outfit, wear one that looks stylish and flatters your body in a great way.

Use accessories that fit and blend well with your body. Large jewelry goes well with larger frame, small jewelry fits with smaller wrist, and so forth. Don’t forget the purse! It is absolutely necessary now that you’re wearing pocketless clothing. Choose one that fits your taste and needs.

Bras and undergarments are necessary to wear now. As you further into your transition, your breasts will start growing and it will become more difficult and uncomfortable going out braless. Start out with a brassiere, then move on to a fitted bra as they become bigger over time. As for down there, I would use boy briefs as they’re similar to boxers. Although HRT will cause it to shrink, it does not make it disappear. If you must hide it, use a gaff or a tuck, but do not use chastity belts (Seriously, stay away from that unless you’re really into that thing).

Optional: use waist shapers or corsets to slim down waist. Hip enlargement pads will also give your narrow hips and butt much needed volume. Breast forms can also give you an idea how big you want them in the future.

Fashion sense

But the most important part of choosing clothing as a trans girl is to wear whatever suits your taste.

For instance, are you more into the traditional and simple feminine aesthetic? Cottagecore may be for you:

But what if you’re the rebellious type that prefers to defy tradition? Well, maybe the alt-girl fashion is for you:

Maybe you’re the type that changes clothing based on season. So if you’re a summer-season type of girl, you’re definitely going for an outfit like this:

How about if you’re into the gym? Clearly your goal is to be like this:

Are you into business casual? There’s also a pic for that:

(The girl in the pic is also transgender! Her name is Suzi Hunter, better known as The Sphere Hunter.)

But we also can’t forget cosplay, either!:

(Cosplayer is Eden the Doll, a trans woman cosplayer! Picture belongs to Geo Leon.)

You’re probably the party type who loves some action:

Casual wear can also be tasteful and attractive too:

There’s so much to pic, but each style says a lot about what type of woman you are.

Where to buy clothing

If you’re interested in finding the right clothes for you, check out places that are especially gender-inclusive. As I’m based in the US, clothing stores such as Target are a good start while higher-end chains such as Nordstrom and Macy’s may have a better variety to choose from. If you’re a thrifty shopper, your local outlets, discount stores, and thrift shops have a surprising amount of great clothing for affordable prices. Although online sites like Amazon, Shein, and Zara have affordable and appealing clothing, many of these brands also have ethical concerns that overshadow their reputation. Dubbed “fast fashion”, they are a source of scrutiny among fashion fans and I would personally avoid them if possible. If you really need something affordable and new, I highly recommend purchasing through discount and thrift stores.

If you’re in need of safe undergarments, check out Urbody. They have clothing suitable for trans people, non-binary, and other identities, varying from binders to tucked leggings. They are founded by trans and non-binary people and use ethical practices and living wages for their workers. If you’re interested in checking their site out, here is the link to their page (I am not sponsored by them): https://urbody.co/

Conclusion

The whole point of this guide is to help you pick the proper clothing and accessories as a newly-out girl. I made this guide since there doesn’t seem to be many that are detailed. Keep in mind I’m still learning about female clothing as I am still in the first stages of transition myself. If anyone would like to add more info that is missing or provide any corrections, please reblog and add more helpful tips as it would help trans girls, trans women, non-binary, and anyone else that desires to wear affirming clothing. Please refrain from using any hurtful language if you’re doing so. Thank you and hugs!

Links to sources:

https://www.healthline.com/health/women-body-shapes#why-shape-fluctuates

https://www.thestylatude.com/post/the-most-common-body-shapes-for-women-and-how-to-find-out-yours

https://theconceptwardrobe.com/build-a-wardrobe/inverted-triangle-body-shape

https://www.thestylebouquet.com/2020/02/17/5-most-common-body-shapes-for-women/

https://dressedformyday.com/how-to-discover-your-body-proportions/

https://gabriellearruda.com/how-to-dress-better-female-body-shape/

https://m2fguide.com/how-to-pick-clothes-if-youre-transgender-or-crossdressing/

https://feminizationsecrets.com/mtf-clothing-tips/

https://www.instagram.com/p/CHBk9v0J_WO/

https://www.transgendermap.com/social/clothing-accessories/

https://apexfoot.com/shoe-sizing-chart/

https://www.glamourboutique.com/crossdresser-fashion/guide-male-female-shoe-sizes-33255#:~:text=Minimize%20the%20chance%20of%20having,11%20in%20a%20women's%20shoe

#transgender #mtf #fashion #how to #gender affirming #trans #clothing #feminine #genderfluid #quick #guide #helpful #tips #trans woman

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neopuppy · 1 year

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Arcade (M)

pairing. Jeno x female reader

genre. hmm what’s all this then? anyway…… smut, M/F, pwp

warnings. vaginal/backdoor unprotected rough sex, rimming, non-consented camera use, you don’t have to read Switch+Chain to understand but it might help. minors DNI.

wc. 6k+

now playing. Arcade//NCT Dream

It’s hard.

It’s been hard actually, attempting to commit to some type of relationship while living in the same household as your.. whatever he was.

First love, the man who took your virginity, your boyfriend's father.

It doesn’t help that things have been really tense between you and Jeno ever since your mom refused to move out, claiming Johnny needs to compensate her for uprooting her life with false hope of a future together.

He acquires the guest room most nights, or…doesn’t come home, and you notice— you notice it every time. When he shows up the next day, neck garnished with bitten bruises poorly hidden under his collar, lips swollen red from whatever he got up to. The avoidance he graces you with— never once meeting your gaze as he passes by on the way to his office. It’s been about a month of this; and on top of it all your mother refuses to let you enjoy any alone time with Jeno.

‘I don’t approve of this.’ She repeats daily, shoving between the two of you sitting together in the living room. ‘You are not allowed to date this horrid insolent boy.’

Jeno can’t stand it either, not helping his case with his rude and disrespectful responses, arguing back and forth with her about how this is technically his house and she can leave.

“I can’t deal with your mom anymore.” He whispers. It’s 1am, also the time your mother typically passes out after raiding Johnny’s wine cabinet. Keeping you up later every night as you have to wait to sneak to each other’s bedrooms. “It’s been two weeks.”

Two weeks since you fucked.. in the upstairs bathroom at Mark’s house, some Saturday night kick back. Even then the two of you hadn’t mentioned your.. situationship to anyone. Jeno’s friends finding it peculiar how often he’s canceled on them to hang out with his… whatever you are.

“We can try a quiet activity..” you tease, tickling under his shirt.

“I can’t even fuck you in my room anymore without her breathing down my neck.” Jeno scowls, pushing his nose against your forehead. “Besides, we both know how loud you get, baby.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“I have an idea,” Jeno had already brought up getting a hotel before, foregoing the thought as his bank account stared back at him looking bleak; failing to mention that his father had cut off the weekly allowance he’d become accustomed to after their blow up(you know, the one about you). “Haechan just became a keyholder at that arcade place he works at.”

“You want to play video games, right now?”

“No no, I’m gonna ask him for a favor.” Jeno smiles, pulling you close to his chest. “For us.”

“Where are you going?”

Your foot tracks come to a halt just as you reach the front door, more dressed up than usual. Nothing much, a short velvet dress with lace trimming, something Jeno picked out from your closet without knowing who gifted it to you in the first place.

Placing your hand on your chest in mock-shock, you gasp turning to face Johnny. “Oh my God, I haven’t heard your voice in so long— I’d forgotten you even live here.”

“I remember this dress.” Johnny’s gaze traces down, stopping at your chest for a second too long as his mouth tweaks to one side. “You were supposed to wear it—“

“Yeah.” You interrupt, reaching for the hem floating just under the jut of your buttcheek to play with. “For our next weekend together, you said I looked pretty when I tried it on.”

“You do,” Johnny’s eyebrows come together, trailing down lower to your strappy heels and manicured toes. “You look beautiful, sexy. Gorgeous as always.”

“..do you miss me?” The question comes out unexpectedly, biting down on the sides of your tongue after asking, nervously pinching your thighs together as he nods; hand running through his loose hair and tugging at the ends.

“Of course I do.” Johnny nearly smiles, the corners of his lips pointing up, none of it reaching his dark eyes continuing to stay low and avoid your face. “But you’re going to meet my son right now, aren’t you?”

“No!” You snap to answer too fast, clearing your throat and swiping your hair back. “I’m meeting my friends.”

“You don’t have friends.” Johnny scoffs a laugh jokingly, shrugging half-apologetically. “Your mom asked me to make sure you stay away from Jeno, you know.”

“He’s my boy—friend..” you say hesitantly. “I think..”

“Yes, you do seem to be a pair.” Johnny hums, leaning against the hallway wall. “It’s almost as if your mother won’t leave my son's side and Jeno won’t leave yours. I don’t believe I’ve seen you once without him around ever since..”

“Ever since we broke up?”

“We didn’t break up.” Johnny’s fast to correct. “We were never together, not you and I anyway.” He waves off, more sluggish in appearance now as you step closer and take in his tired expression. “I should have left you alone.”

“What do you me—“

“You should get going, Jeno’s been waiting outside for a while now.” Johnny cuts you off, motioning to the front door. “Probably getting annoyed knowing him.”

“Did you ever love me?” You know you shouldn’t, but Johnny’s right; if Jeno’s not plastered to your back then your mom’s hovering around with her nose deep in your business. Over the last few weeks cuddled up next to Jeno wide awake as he softly snores you can’t stop your mind from spinning, asking questions you never received answers to.

“You still have to ask?” His shoulders fall, slumping further against the wall, hooded eyes falling to his feet. “Of course I did.. I still do. I always will.”

“Then why did yo—“

“What’s taking so long!” Jeno busts through the front door, pausing with his knuckles turning white where he grips the handle hard enough to break off. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Nothing.” Johnny says casually, shoving off the wall to stand up straight. “As we agreed to, nothing at all.” He nods in Jeno’s direction, returning to his usual stature of living without acknowledging your existence, not even a ‘goodbye’ wave before exiting the room.

Jeno grabs the crook of your elbow tugging you back into his chest hard enough to have you stumbling, gasping out of shock. “Was he talking to you?!”

“Huh? Ow! You’re hurting me!” Tugging your arm away at the same time Jeno releases as if you’ve burned off the skin off his palm sends you tumbling forward, saved by his arm swiftly coming to wrap around your waist; eyes bouncing around full of concern and confusion.

“Sorry! I mean..” Jeno’s teeth grind together, softly squeezing you in his hold. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to..”

“Okay.. is everything alright?”

He frowns, ducking in to press his chin against your shoulder, eyelashes dragging down to the side as his eyes fall and lose their usual sparkle. “Yeah, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay Jeno.. let’s get going, yeah?”

“Yeah yeah.” He nods, pecking your skin before moving back to get the door for you. “I didn’t think he was home, swore I heard him leave earlier. Thought he’d be gone for the night fucking some whore.”

Jeno leads you to his car, missing the way you flinch at the mention of Johnny’s reoccurring activities, still sensitive as you try to process the answer you’ve been looking for.

I always will. That’s what Johnny said.. but there was something else.

Jeno’s driving, drumming on the steering wheel to calm his anxiety, the image of your back facing him with his fathers lazy eyes on you as you stood much too close together won’t leave his mind. He’s sick of it really, fighting his own father for the same girl; brainstorming new ways to threaten him. Even breaking into the old man’s home office to look through his patients files for some dirt, completely illegal but what about this predicament isn’t at this point.

“Back there..” you break his thoughts, clearing your throat.

“Huh?” Jeno glances, shifting his tense shoulders to relax and lean back in his seat. “Back there?”

“Your dad.. he said something, about ‘as we agreed to’ I think..” you say cautiously, picking at your cuticle. “Did you guys ever talk? About.. us?”

Jeno steps down on the brake abruptly, hurling your chest forward restrained by the seat belt that tightens up around you. “What?”

At least the lights red, you think, rubbing at your sore chest. “...Ow..”

Jeno sighs, more annoyed now, tapping the steering wheel with more aggression. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Things have been weird, awkward I guess.. ever since..”

“Since he dumped you?” He sneers, pushing down on the gas pedal too hard and revving off down the street, luckily empty at this late hour.

“We weren’t together, not like.. not like how you and I are. I mean—“

“He took advantage of you..” Jeno shakes his head, zipping through intersections without bothering to slow down or stop. “He took advantage of you, and you let him.”

“That’s not—“

“It’s okay.” Hitting the brakes he stops, pulling into a parking spot with ease, using one hand to steer the wheel into place. “It’s okay.” Jeno repeats again, as if to reassure himself more than anything. “My dad, that fucking asshole..”

Pulling the shift into park, he leans back again, the back of his head slamming against the seat frustrated. “It’s not your fault. When I was a kid he used to psychoanalyze me too, used that shit to manipulate me.”

Johnny didn’t manipulate me, your lip twitches to say, folding your hands together as you purse your lips tight.

“He blamed me, you know— for my mom leaving..” Jeno’s tongue drags inside of his cheek, wandering eyes gleaming more beneath the night sky breaking through the windshield. “I never stood a chance against him honestly, even now I can’t trust he’ll leave you alone.”

“He does leave me alone, Jeno.”

“Yeah.” He pauses, turning halfway in his seat to face you, head tilted as he takes in your confusion. “I told him to leave you alone, is that a problem?”

“..and he agreed? Is that what he meant?” You ask wearily, picking up over time that Jeno can’t keep eye contact when he lies, becoming shifty and distracted as he mumbles.

He blinks slowly, tongue poking between his lips in thought without tearing away from your gaze. “I told him that I really like you, and for once in my life I want to have a chance at something genuine.”

Jeno’s playful demeanor you’ve become acquainted with(although still perplexing at times) seems to disappear the more he speaks, concerning you enough to take a hold of his hand. “Hey..”

He mumbles something hard to make out, sinking against his seat. “I hate seeing him around you, I know you don’t see it the way I do but.. he used you.”

Ouch.

How could Jeno so easily ruin your delusional high of believing his father had actual feelings for you with just a few words. It’s not worth discussing, not with him, he’d never see it the way you do.

Understandably so, to him Johnny may as well be the scum of the earth while he consumed your entire world, day to night; continuing to daydream of the future you could have with your boyfriend's dad. The idea alone fucked up enough to make you nauseous now, having to swallow the bitter taste of bile down. As sick as it is, Johnny had made a home for himself in your heart.. at least the parts Jeno hadn’t managed to infiltrate.

Half of you really contemplated choosing stupidity, ruin your chances of getting dicked down tonight. Perhaps spice it up, Jeno had become.. soft as of late, but the distress across his pretty face quelled your hunger for drama, for now.

“So, what you’re saying is..” you bend in closer, jerking his chin up to look at you, hand squeezing around his. “You really like me?”

Jeno’s smile returns, huffing out a laugh, hiding half of his face in the seat. “Fighting my dad for you wasn’t enough? I have to say it too?”

Shrugging, you lean in closer, biting at his earlobe. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear once in a while after years of thinking you hated me.”

“Well..” the sound of keys jingling turns your attention to Jeno’s hand coming up between you, eyebrow lifted suggestively. “I think you like it, actually— I know you love it when I fuck you like I hate you.”

“You’re gonna fuck me in the arcade?” You glance outside, ‘High Scores’ lights up the hood of his car, the rest of the street dim and empty compared to the bright neon light flickering above you. “Does Haechan know you’re risking his job to have sex uninterrupted?”

Jeno laughs, opening his door to get out and grab yours, the nice gestures still taking awhile to get used to.(This is the same guy that made you get out of his car and walk to school just to not be seen with you afterall.)

“Most he said is to not leave a mess behind and make sure I lock up when we’re done here.” Helping you out he pushes your back to the passenger door, gaze back to the excited playful one you prefer. “I can always fuck you here instead.”

Even now the thrill of secrecy reminds you of him... the times he’d pull you into the backseat of his SUV to steal a kiss; softly pecking your lips while mumbling that he needed a little taste of you everyday, thumbing at his bottom lip while he sat across from you during dinner and stole glances at you. The craving for more always lingering.

“Right here? Where anyone can see?” You ask, pretending to be shocked with wide eyes and clutching your chest. “You think I’m some whore you can just fuck on the street?”

Jeno bites down on his tongue, smirking and grabbing your hips. “I knew this dress would look good on you.” He hikes up the sides around your hips, lifting you up onto the hood to sit and make space between your thighs. “I like it when you listen to me.”

It’s little things like this that heat up your chest, stinging from within between guilt and a yearning need. The twisted part of your mind consumed by the thought that Jeno’s so similar to his dad, just younger, a little naive, but he’s definitely not as dumb as you had assumed.

“Do you think I look pretty?” You ask coyly, pulling his hips in closer with a tight squeeze of your thighs. Jeno wraps around your waist, face only an inch away from yours now, his tone lowering to a deep rasp.

“You’re always pretty. You know when I brought you around my friends I had to stop myself from putting Jaemin in a headlock with the shit he was saying.” His hands roam lower as he goes on, smoothing up the sides of your thighs to play with the straps of your underwear. “Had to remind myself that they don’t know about us.. yet.”

“Yet?”

Jeno hums, gathering your underwear to one side to swipe his thumb between your folds; his cheeks rising upon making contact with your wet entrance. “Once your mom gets off my ass it’ll be easier for us. I guess I’m still worried.”

He mumbles with lowered eyelids, grabbing onto your inner thigh to spread you open further. Not quite lying, not quite telling you the truth. “You still don’t trust me, right?

The skin between his eyebrows wrinkles slightly, long eyelashes fanning across the tops of his cheeks. “Seeing you with him today, I feel..”

“You can be honest with me baby.”

Jeno nods, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening, smearing two fingers over the outside of your entrance haphazardly. “I’m annoyed, I’m mad. I hate that he still gets to see you— to see you look pretty for me.”

“We didn’t talk.” You lie, cupping his face to smooth away the stress tightening his jaw. “He was just passing by.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” Jeno asks slowly, also familiar with the way you bite your lip when you lie. Even the smallest movement of biting one corner is enough to give you away.

“I’m not lying.” You say, tugging your lip in under your teeth with a smile, quickly moving to kiss his nose before he can continue interrogating you. Jeno’s eyes drop shut swallowing back his disappointed sigh, hand sliding away to grip your thighs and pull your core closer to his crotch.

“I know we don’t talk about this,” his face dips into the crook of your neck to hide, breath fanning down your throat mixing in with the chilled night air. “..and I know I can’t ask you to ignore him, we all live together..”

“Jeno” you say, pulling back to grab a hold of his face again. “We live together, you realize that? It’s always you, me.. and my mom unfortunately.”

He smiles at that, playfully biting at your thumb poking against the corner of his mouth. “I’m not used to my dad actually doing something nice for me.” Other than funding him with money, which hasn’t been the case as of late. Jeno considers that maybe you were the exchange, no more allowance but hey- I’ll let you have the girl.

Fixing his wind swept bangs to uncover his forehead, you wonder what exactly was said in this agreement; had Johnny really given up on you so easily? How could he say he still loves you and watch another man, let alone his own son, prance around in his face holding and kissing you? It didn’t make any sense..

Jeno shivers, smoothing your dress back down and nodding toward the Arcade. “It’s getting cold, wanna head inside and play?”

He helps you off the hood, taking a hold of your hand and using his other to unlock the front door. “Oh? You know, I can kick your ass at Pac-man.”

Jeno pulls you in, locking the door back up, the inside mostly dark aside from a few strips of neon lights bordering the ceiling. “Is that all you know how to play?” He laughs, drawing you further in with both hands taking a hold of yours. “We both know I can eat you up easily.”

Coming to a stop he flicks on a switch, the room coming to life with lights and mixtures of video game music from different machines. Most of them classic vintage games, a few pinball machines and air hockey table. Nothing much, but a gamers safe haven nonetheless.

“There’s Street Fighter, Ninja Turtles, Super Mario Brothers, Frogger..” Jeno walks around keeping you by his side, chuckling at your lost expression as you look at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. “Pac-man it is, winner takes it all yeah?”

“What are we playing for?” You grumble, feigning annoyance because this is not what you had in mind when Jeno texted you about sneaking out together.

“If I win, I get to do whatever I want with you.” He beams, eyebrows raising up and down before inserting coins into the game.

“What if I win?”

“If you win..” pouting his lips, Jeno sways in thought, snapping his fingers. “I get to do whatever I want with you.” He says proudly, displaying all of his pearly white perfect teeth.

“Don’t you already?” You say in an annoyed tone, nudging against his side and grabbing onto a joystick.

“There is one thing, actually.” Jeno lowers his gaze scanning down your figure, eyes ending on your backside. “I believe you know what I want.”

“Right now?” You have to splutter a bit, nervously squeezing your thighs together. “Won’t it hurt though?”

He laughs, barely, more of an act to stop himself from replying with ‘That’s the point.’

“No baby, it’ll feel good.” Jeno sticks out his pinky, jutting his pink bottom lip out covered with a sheen of spit. “I prom.”

“Prom?” You question, distracted by how enticing his mouth looks pouting at you paired with a wide glossy gaze.

“Half a promise,” he winks, locking your pinkies together. “It might hurt actually.”

“Jeno!”

“Winner takes it all!” He laughs, returning to focus on starting your game of Pac-man.

“Jeno, what the fuck! This isn’t fair!” You panic, immediately falling behind as his hand seems to blur and you crash into another ghost.

“What can I say? I’m a pro.” He says nonchalantly, the smirk painting his lips growing. “You know what else I’m a pro at eating?”

“Jeno!” You splutter, distracted by the wink he shoots at you as another sound of disappointment blasts from the game's speakers, on your last leg of life attempting to catch up to your opponent nearing the end.

“Winners win.” Jeno’s arms lift up proudly, boasting his victory with flexed biceps. “Losers lose.”

He keeps cheering, arms pumping and pretending to wave at a crowd as the game congratulates his victory. “You didn’t tell me you were good at this game!”

“Well, you said you could kick my ass.” He shrugs, grabbing your wrists and dragging you toward him. “It seems I will be the one beating your ass up instead.”

Jeno taps the pout that’s formed on your lips, disguising how irritated he feels in actuality. Tapping your bottom lip, he hums and leans back against a wall. “You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”

“Why do you keep asking?” You lilt, tilting your head suspiciously as you reach for his neck. Jeno snaps away too fast, quickly averting his gaze aside before you can catch his disappointment; his palms finding purchase around your waist and manhandling you against the wall.

“No reason,” he whispers, trapping your earlobe between his teeth and knocking his hips along your backside. “Don’t forget who won.”

The sound of his belt unlatching scratches at the back of your skull drowning out the arcade noises around you; with a bicep locking your arms together he wraps it around your elbows. The restraint tightens immediately, locking your arms in place behind your back. “Does it hurt, baby?”

‘Does it hurt badly?’

Pressing your cheek to the wall you shake, quietly muttering ‘no’, the churn in your stomach confusing you with arousal and guilt.

“That’s too bad..” pulling up your dress to bunch at your waist, Jeno slaps your ass softly, stroking his fingers over the roundness of your hips, dipping beneath the juncture between meaty flesh meeting thigh. “I know how much you love when it hurts.”

“Je—“

“Shhh.” Biting down on your earlobe, he tugs until you squeal, knees knocking together from the pain shooting through your ear. “See how you’re so fucking loud?”

Jeno sinks down into a squat gripping the sides of your ass and squeezing. His palms feel hot, heavy, digging his thin hard fingers into your cheeks. He pulls you open watching the thin string of your underwear fail to cover your holes completely, breath suctioning loudly between spit when he hisses and presses forward digging his nose against your barely concealed hole.

“Fuck!” You bite down, struggling to stay still on your toes digging deeper into the sole of your heels, his nose dragging up and down between releasing groans and deep breaths. The moans vibrating between the back of your thighs playing as a soundtrack for his disgusting euphoric high, leaving his mouth popped open, teeth catching onto bits of flesh hidden inside of you.

“So good.” Jeno laps at your rim, soaking up the thin piece of underwear there, teeth biting down and pulling away enough to watch your hole flutter. Slapping at your ass with a firmer hand he tugs the string off to one side, leaning forward to press his pouty lips against your hole. Mouth hot and breathy as he stays there tracing his words against your opening. “Want me to fill your little tight virgin asshole up so fucking bad, just look at the way you’re opening up for me already.”

As if on command slick drips down your inner thigh, rim convulsing around nothing. He snickers, tapping the tip of his finger against it. “So nasty, who taught you to be this fucking nasty huh?”

Oh.

Your eyes wrinkle together, hips jumping back in search of something wet, something to quell your need.

A succession of hard slaps stills your movement, ass stinging under his palm smoothing down, jiggling your cheek against his face. “Can’t even stop yourself, can you?”

“Please…do something.. please.”

Begging, you’re always such a beggar. Jeno can’t stand it, how your writhe and whimper, so desperate to get fucked. Can’t stand how pretty you sound when you beg, when you shout his name with your eyes facing the back of your skull. He can’t stand the way his cock jumps in his pants, twitching against his phone like a reminder.

“Ask for it.” His face rubs side to side, engulfed in your aroma, nose burying in and out of your hole teasingly. “Be a good girl, ask.”

“Jeno.. please,” sniffling, you have to shut your eyes to keep your mind blank. The similarities between two different men sit on your chest, sinking into the hollow, breaking down the bones and muscle protecting your heart. “Please baby.”

“Please what?” Pulling out his phone, Jeno double checks the silent button, hitting record and focusing on your ass sticking out; lower back making the shot from the way you dip in and arch out.

“Please, please fuck me…”

“Where?” He questions, tone falling deep, raspy, scratching up his vocal chords. “Tell me where.”

“My..” breath gets caught in your throat, hole clenching up as embarrassment flows down your face. Breaking out into a whimper at the first sign of moisture reaching the rims of your eyes. “My ass.. please fuck my ass.”

“That’s right,” Jeno groans, smoothing the pad of his finger around your wrinkled hole. “No one will ever fuck you the way I fuck you.”

Spit lands on your rim, the last shot he captures before sending the video off to a text message with ‘Asshole’.

‘Only for me.’

Pocketing his phone again, he focuses on collecting your wetness, swirling it together with his spit. The sounds of your needy whines only egg him on to work fast, lapping at the skin around his fingers until your knees bend and you shove back against his face.

Jeno contemplates for a second, mindlessly prodding the tips of two fingers in and out of your pulsating rim, your wanton cries driving him mad the longer he teases.

It shouldn’t hurt, but you deserve for it to hurt, because you’re a fucking liar, because you’d rather lie to him and allow his mind to wander.

Before he can shake away the worry, his phone buzzes, distracting him for a moment before pressing into your hole to keep you occupied.

‘Ask your little girlfriend about our conversation you rudely interrupted. I wouldn’t be so sure if I was you.’

Jeno can’t believe how fast this fucking asshole replies, nearly crushing his phone and jabbing his fingers into you roughly at the same time.

“Ahh!”

“Shut up.” He growls, shoving his phone away, proceeding to jackhammer two fingers inside your ass. A wad of spit lands around them adding a small amount of lubricant, his roughness forcing your ass to shake around the pressure.

“Baby please, ah!” Struggling to stay still, your toes pinch together, pushing your forehead against the wall with another cry. Tears stain down your cheeks the more he ignores you, muscles rippling up his forearm beneath pulsing large veins. “Please, slow..slow down!”

Another growl is all you hear in response, dipping in to lavv at the tough skin constricting around his fingers, his free hand reaching between your thighs to pinch at your clit and distract your mind from the pain.

Jeno’s ears fill up from the heat surrounding him, forcing another digit inside your hole and groaning at the visual of how obscenely stretched you are around him. Still managing to push in past your resistance, his stare burns, stuck on the little flex and pinch your ass gives with each push inside.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

A startled broken moan slips out of you, caught off guard by how deep, near demonic his vibrato’s fallen to. The surprise has your hips canting back full of fear, excitement, Jeno’s fingers digging deep into your ass pushing against your walls.

“Relax, you’ll make this hurt more than it has to.”

The glide of his nose pressing to your neglected hole has you jolting up, legs pin straight the second his tongue flicks at your clit. His hand reaches around grasping your thigh, strong hold pushing you to sit down on his face. He tongues at your bundle of nerves viciously, nose suffocated by the ridiculous amount of slick pouring out of you, the majority of it dripping down past the consistent small dip in and out of you, trickling a pathway down his thick neck, bobbing and struggling to breathe with his airway full of arousal.

“Ah fuck! I’m close!” Full of urgency you scream, hands twitching like crazy to grab onto something, anything to help you stay attached to reality. He only speeds up, the fat of his tongue dragging along your swollen clit roughly, powerfully working you into a faster frenzy until your thighs quake.

Jeno’s relentless, tongue blurring against your clit with speed, nose stuffed as deep as possible, the three digits curling up and pulling. Pain and pleasure hit a new high, bending your neck back into a deep arch as your climax hits and erupts hard enough to choke him between the wet squirt and weight of your lower half coming down.

Slapping down on your upper thigh, Jeno gags, coughing from the fluid filling his nostrils, fingers crooking up before sliding out and smearing the mess of spit down your leg.

“Come here.” He drags your lifeless body down to his lap, switching to hold his weight against the wall, lips landing against yours in a mess of heat. The drool pouring from your mouth blends with his spit coated lips vocalizing the hunger of your mouths fighting for dominance. “Wanna..”

Jeno pants, licking at every crevice of skin and tongue like a thirsty puppy, eyes glazed over as he gazes at your already wrecked face. “..see you, wanna see you.”

“Uh huh,” nodding you wrap around his neck, forehead landing against his cheek lazily as he positions you over his length. The whole act feels dirty, a memory you’ll recall someday; how silly it is to be a teenager having to sneak around just to get laid(all because you fucked your boyfriend’s dad). “See you.” You repeat breathless, cock dragging between your folds drenched by wet arousal that won’t stop leaking.

“Pussy dripping wet for me, know why?” Jeno’s arm squeezes around your middle, hot mouth dragging up your jaw to whisper in your ear. “Cause you’re a fucking slut, and all sluts know how to do is take cock.”

The cry you let out shaking your head with denial gets lost, Jeno capturing your bottom lip in a rough kiss and thrusting up to fill you halfway. He grunts, pushing your body lower to bury the rest of his length inside and swallow down your cries. “Slutty fuck hole.”

Eyelashes flutter along your cheek, hot tightness wrapped around his size drawing deep guttural moans out. Hips jerk upward, lodging the entirety of his length inside of you. He’s overbearing, sucking the moans out of your mouth, slapping down on your ass to move and ride his length despite your cries.

“Feel good?” Jeno’s bicep flexes, snaked around your waist tighter than a boa constrictor, making it harder to breathe with the incessant ramming of his hips fucking you up and down his size.

“S-so so so good,” you sigh between tears, scratching your nails through the back of his scalp and sweaty nape. “So good inside.”

He wants to be mean, wants to pull you off him, throw you down on the ground and fuck you like nothing but a useless whore; but he can’t. Mentally cursing himself out, he shifts to lay you down, throwing your thigh around his hip for leverage to grind into you, eyes burning over your dazed expression.

Pretty.

Kissing the backs of his teeth he fucks into you faster, chasing his own need to get off without much concern for yours. This isn’t about you, this isn’t about your glazed gaze, parted swollen lips, the tear tracks rolling down past your jaw following the dips of collarbone rising and falling at a rapid pace, breasts bouncing near out of your dress with each beating thrust.

Jeno feels crazed, hot, throat burning from the inside out from the endless groans tearing through his chest. Bending forward, his weight throttles into you, jostling you to slide up. Palms attaching you to the ground with a vicious chokehold. Teeth grit and grind, wrinkling the skin on his cheeks and forehead, cock fucking in and out, in and out, the loud squelch of wet somehow louder than your pleasured sounds combined.

“M’gonna..” Jeno gulps, swallowing the wads of spit and drool collecting at the sides of his tongue. “Fuck you, fuck you all night. Fuck your ass open, break you.”

Unsure he can even last with how tight you grip around him, Jeno pulls out, shushing the loud whine you let out, pouting and crying harder about how close you were. “Shh..” slapping down between your thighs, he licks at his lips hungrily, entertained by the way you twitch and cry, still lifting your hips for another slap on your pussy. “Turn around.”

Knowing you can’t do much with your arms constrained, he manhandles you onto your front, noting how your flesh folds over the leather belt, sure enough to leave marks behind the more you struggle. He pulls at the leather, shoving your dress to the top of your back completely bunched up, wrinkling the nice material that someone else would have stripped off of you gently..

“Mine.” Jeno swipes his fingers around your exposed rim, lightly laughing at how you jerk forward and arch out more. Cock slapping down between your ass with a hiss. “So pretty like this..”

He’s done bothering to prep you, on the brink of insanity listening to your shattered whimpers, the exhausted, depraved little way you repeat his name. “So mine.” Resting his length on your rim, he reaches lower, scooping a wad of wetness globbed at your entrance, the only extra he’ll spare you, smearing the mess of it up and down his size.

He presses to your rim, biting down on his lip hard enough to break skin and compress the growl trying to escape. “God, fuck.”

Jeno thinks he can’t breathe for a moment, sinking in through the insane tightness, his stomach sucked empty, raggedly inhaling the more inch by inch disappears inside of you.

He thrust shallowly, experimenting with short and fast grinds until every bit of his size can no longer be seen, eyebrows crushed together as he struggles to breathe and crashes a harsh slap down on your ass. The growl escapes similar to a feral animal on the run, animalistic much like each barreling thrust colliding with your ass.

Jeno loses it from there, a string of curses running off his tongue between groans, hammering his hips forward, his free hand reaching for one of your shoulders to press your chest down. The extra hold only enforcing more power behind each slam, burying his cock deeper than you can even begin to fathom. “Gonna fuck your ass all the time now.”

“Hurts! Hurts so much!” You moan, stuttering between each syllable, arching deeper for him to fuck faster.

“You love it.” He bends forward, chest pressed down on your back knocking out your air flow. His other hand trailing from your hip to slap against your cunt, fingers pressing down on your clit and rubbing in fluid motions of figure eights.

“Ah fuck! Baby!”

Jeno knows you’re close, tightening up around his cock making it harder for him to shove in past your resistance. Pussy quivering the more he plays with your clit. “Yeah, just like that.” He pants, thirsty like a dog, tongue wagging out drooling. “Fucking tight, so fucking tight.”

He starts fucking at an unreal speed, rapidly ripping past each clench. The growls behind you akin to a beast, sucking bits of your soul with each thrust bottoming out inside of your ass.

“Jeno!” It’s barely a whimper, too empty headed to process anything beyond the heat coiling down your stomach, toes curling against your heels, the cool wet smeared down your thighs.

A pinch at your clit has you leaking, squirting around nothing and clamping down on the cock filling your ass, Jeno’s hand drenched by your climax pouring to the floor around his fingers.

He can’t believe it, you really came from this, asshole stuffed to the brim with cock for the first time. The thought alone tightens up his balls, jackhammering against your limp frame, falling into sloppy mismatched thrusts until the heat in his chest snaps. Cock crammed down to the hilt jerking and pulsing inside your warm heat. Sticky and obscene, the thick milky cream collecting at the base of his length with each last pitiful thrust.

Jeno finishes up, throat visibly bobbing as he takes in your backside covered in the excess cum, dragging his wet cock on your heated flesh. The white liquid gliding down your soft skin, ass gaped and ruined, his arm reaches around patting for his pants in search of one thing.

Jeno types with one thumb, quickly filming a clip of his hand sweeping up the back of your thigh, rubbing his release into your skin, the last shot ending on your holes.

The text finishes sending, a pleased grin lazily fitting his face before leaning down to kiss the middle of your back.

He mumbles mindlessly against your damp skin, imagining his recipient's face opening the message, pleased by the thought of his father’s enraged face.

‘Only mine.’

#lee jeno smut #jeno smut #nct jeno #neopuppy fics #nct dream smut #nct smut #lee jeno #nct dream fanfiction #nct fanfiction

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alotofpockets · 5 months

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Home | Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompts: "I've had a bad day, and honestly all I want right now are some cuddles." & "You've always felt like home."

A/n: Could be read as a part 2 to 'Seeking comfort' but also works on it's own :)

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1k

Living with Natasha had been nothing short of perfect. You had been living together for a couple of months now, and the experience had been amazing so far. Your shared place had felt like home from the moment you and Natasha had stepped foot in it. Over the months you grew to love the little habits that started to form.

One of your new favorite things has become coming home to Natasha. The way she ran to the door when she heard the familiar noise of your keys jingling before unlocking the front, always welcoming you home with lots of kisses, was something you would never get enough from. She was always so happy to have you back home, and in return you were very happy to be back in her arms.

Another thing that you loved was Natasha coming home to you. You always tried to make it special, and on your days off you did that by putting some extra effort into dinner. Since the two of you had moved in together, you had picked up cooking, and you tried making new recipes as often as you could. You loved surprising your lover with a home-cooked meal, and a nicely set table, turning dinner into little impromptu dates.

Above all else, you loved creating a home with Natasha. The walls and shelves that were blank upon moving, were now filled with pictures, and trinkets of your life together. Just as you had seen that first day you entered Natasha’s bedroom at the Compound. Natasha loved capturing every moment with her polaroid camera, and you loved looking back on the memories the two of you had created.

You were working on a new recipe for tonight when you heard the infamous, “Honey, I'm home.” Natasha loved being cheesy, and you loved all the domesticity that came with it. The Black Widow was a big softy, she was your big softy, and you wouldn’t change that for the world. “In the kitchen.” You reply. It wasn't long until you heard her footsteps heading your way, and her arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Soft kisses were placed on your shoulder. “Hi detka.” You lean into her body, while you continue stirring the pan. The pasta was boiling, and the sauce you were stirring was almost done.

“Hi baby, how was work?” Natasha grunts from behind you and nuzzles her head further into your back. "I've had a bad day, and honestly all I want right now are some cuddles." You put the heat down under your pans before you turn around in her arms. “Oh, darling, I’m sorry you had a bad day.” You wrap your arms around her, and hold her close. “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head. “That’s okay. Let’s get you those cuddles, shall we?”

“But what about dinner? I know you worked hard on it.” She says worriedly. “We can just have it on the couch tonight. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll be right there.” She kisses your cheek, “You’re the best. I love you.” - “I love you too, darling.” You grab two bowls and set them down on the counter. The pasta dish needed a couple more minutes, so you decided to clean up the table you had set already in the meantime.

Once the dish is ready you shoop the pasta and then the sauce into the two bowls. On a tray you bring in both your dishes and the wine you had poured into two glasses. “It smells really good, baby, I can’t wait to try it.” Natasha appreciated your gesture to skip on the fancy set table and enjoy the food on the couch, however she did feel guilty about ruining your plans of a fancy at home dinner date. “I’m sorry about the change of plans.” She says as you hand her one of the bowls. You shake your head, “Don’t worry about it, darling. I don’t mind where we have dinner, I just want to have it with you.” You sit down beside her and put on one of her favorite movies. She instantly leaned into your side. That was another thing you had noticed, Natasha had become a lot more clingy. She always found your hand to hold, or your side to lean into. You were not complaining though, as you loved being close to her.

When your bowls were empty, you discarded them on the table to clean up later, and changed your position on the couch so that Natasha could cuddle into you properly. “Come here, baby.” You said with your arms wide open. She laid her head down on your chest, and you immediately wrapped your arms around her. The movie continued to play on the TV, and you moved one of your hands to absentmindedly play with her hair, knowing how much Natasha loved it when you did that. “Your cuddles always make me feel so much better.” You place a kiss on her forehead, “Oh yeah? Why is that?” Natasha lovingly places a kiss on your neck, “Because you’ve always felt like home.” Gosh, she really is the most adorable person to have ever existed. “You’ve always felt like home to me too. I am so happy that we have found each other, and that I get to live life with you by my side.”

Natasha didn’t make it to the end of the movie, you heard her breathing change about half way through it. You knew she had a rough day, so you pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, letting her sleep on your chest while you finished the movie. During the movie you often thought back on how Natasha would softly speak her favorite lines of the movie out loud, the memories always bringing a smile to your face.

Your girlfriend was still fast asleep when the movie ended. The remote was still within your reach, so you went to Spotify and turned on one of your playlists there. Soft music filled the room, and it wasn’t long before your own eyes fell closed.

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#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu x reader #mcu imagine

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fayesia · 7 months

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Sex pollen — Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

a/n: Hi quickly wanted to say that it was not supposed to be this long but once I started writing i kinda just went with it lol. I’m also pretty new to writing smut but hopefully y’all like this :D

Warnings: nsfw 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, praise kink, creampie, dirty talk, size difference, rough sex, squirting, lmk if i missed anything!!

This recent task wasn’t one of the harder ones, easily able to be accomplished in about 2 hours, it was the venture home that took the most out of you. Trudging through the forest with its vast species of fauna and flora had been beautiful but also uncomfortable, from both the exhaustion and the heat of the tropical climate.

However things only seem to get worse for the team as the sun was setting and darkness surrounded the group from every side. A guttural howl was heard coming from behind, deep in the thick cluster of trees, the beasts were coming out to play. “Runnnn!!! Go go go, pick up the pace, let’s keep moving!” You heard Simon yelling from your right at the rest of the team lagging behind.“We’re about 100m from base, keep it moving!! We’re all making it back alive tonight no matter what , Let’s GO!” You were about to ask him a question turning your head to the right until your foot got caught on a lifted tree root.

You stretch out your hands ready to support yourself from crashing head first into large rocks, feeling two muscular arms wrap around you. Unaware of who it was, the both of you start rolling down a ditch off the side of the path leading to home base. Expecting to fall into more rocks, you instead feel the cushion of large soft petals belonging to some unknown plant—a large plant for sure. Quickly sitting up you come face to face with Simon, he rushes to you, looking down as puffs of pink dust rise from the pores of the petals after every step he takes.

The two of you cough as the pollen invades your nostrils, seeping into every crevice of your combat suits and Simons mask. You try to orientate yourself attempting to get up only to fall down again, sharp pain searing through your ankle, you grab onto Simon for support. “Looks like my ankle took most of the fall eh?” You attempt to lighten up the mood only Simon doesn’t seem to reciprocate this idea.

“You’re hurt. This isn’t good, we have to get back to base before something else attack-“ his sentence is cut short as he sees you inspecting the tears in your suit. One along the shoulder of your right arm sleeve to your collarbone, another where you injured your ankle and the last one visible to him is on your inner thigh stretching all the way to your hip. Looking up you sheepishly apologise, “sorry heh didnt know so many things would cut through the suit, didn’t want to wear the heavy combat one for such an easy mission.”

“It’s fine, come on we’ve got to find a way back” he states after a moment of silence as his eyes raked you up and down, you simply took this as his way of assessing the situation of your ankle. Wrapping an arm around his waist he tries to find a path yet as far as your eyes can see in the pitch black of the night is more pink petals. Simons steps only seem to agitate the unknown flora even more causing large clouds of dust to invade your senses.

“Let’s take a break” you suggest after you both had only ventured a few meters away, but Simons breathing had picked up and his uncommon stumbling seemed to be happening more. You turn to him lightly giggling, “i don’t remember being that heavy to such a big boy like you”

“no no its not that” he’s quick to reassure you, never wanting you to undermine his strength. “It’s just-i don’t know something in the air is making the temperature rise, don’t you feel it?”

Now, you have been well aware of the heat, the reason you asked to take a break in the first place was because of that, the almost unbearable feeling prickling at every cell in your body. And yes you hated to admit, but mostly attacking your nether regions where the heat seemed to escape from the most. “Y-yeah i feel it to”. Simon stares into your eyes, slowly crawling closer to you in hopes of releasing less dust from his movements. You also near him, briefly pausing before your lightheadedness takes over, causing you to fall straight on top of him. The small size of you is barely enough to push his large frame over, leaving you sat in his lap against his gun— wait why would his gun be in the middle of his pants—oh…Your face turns a deep red but embarrassment is something neither of you have the time or patience for. The contact releases a lengthy groan from Simon and his hips grinding upwards has you moaning with need.

“Fuck what’s causing this”

“i done have a clue but right now i dont give a fuck i just need to fucking consume every part of you.” His words cause more moans to come out from your mouth. You get to work tugging down his pants pulling out his long fully erect dick, the tip is a pulsing aggressive red and it’s covered in thick throbbing veins. Your hand barely wraps around the girth of it and you’re sure you can’t take all of it, imagining Simon trying to fit it inside of you, prompts more moans to fall from your mouth. This train of dirty images are cut short as Simon flips you on your back, his fingers tug and pull at your suit while you yelp from the sudden movement. Finally his hands take opportunity of the rips caused by your fall, practically tearing the stretchy skin-tight material from you body leaving your top half completely bare.

“Fuck arent you just beautiful, been hiding all of this the whole time you’ve been on the team huh?” He growls against your skin covered by a thin sheen of sweat. He licks from your neck down to your right nipple and then to your left one. Grabbing the two soft squishy fats of skin into his big hands he pushes them together rubbing his face between the two, “god love your tits so fucking much just molded to fit right in my hands huh”. Unable to reply you simply let out breathy moans at his rough actions.

Crawling lower to where your neediest he runs his hand along you suit covered pussy, feeling the wetness drench the material the more he rubs against you. “Who knew we had such a fucking slut on the team, pussy’s so fuckin’ wet just begging to get filled by a thick cock like mine”. You nod your head, “yes yes please fuck me mmm”. He grabs onto the ripped material at your thigh creating an even larger hole to access your pussy, your suit—if you can even call it that anymore—is now just two scraps of material covering your calves. “Guess i gotta give this whore what she wants” he replies slapping your tits as you moan. “Mhm please touch me, fuck me anything I need you so bad”

“aw just begging for this cock aren’t you…i don’t think you should have it just yet though, i mean you’re the one who got us into this mess in the first place, isn’t that right?”

“What no no hhnng please do something anything” at this he lowers himself to lie on his front, grabs onto your hip and drags your pussy a few inches from your face. Immediately you thrust your hips forwards keen for any skin to skin contact. “Mm shit such a pretty pussy just like your pretty face, soaking wet for me” he brings his fingers to your mouth, pushing them past your lips, you suck on them just like you would on his cock drenching the two fingers in copious amounts of spit bobbing your head up and down. While you were busy with that he lifts up his mask to his nose and sticks out his tongue to lick a large stripe from your ass to clit, finally relieving you as your head falls back against the soft cushions of the petals.

His first taste of you. He goes wild. Biting at your inner thighs and kissing his way to your sex. Spit is falling from his lips all over your pussy as his mouth travels up and down to every crevice of your vagina. The sinful sounds echo across the eerily silent forest as he plunges two of his spit covered fingers into you, the large size of them easily reaching deeper than your small dainty ones have ever. You’re unable to control your moans as he further stimulates your clit with his mouth and tongue while his fingers push and rub against your g-spot. Your juices drip against his chin mixing with his spit creating more and more fluid to rub all over his face. “Im gonna cum omg Simon fuck keep going”

“just like that baby cum all over me”. With one last curl of his fingers against your walls you feel yourself let go releasing a waterfall of your cum in his mouth and drenching his face in the process. He laps you up like a dog starved of thirst “mmh good fucking slut, gonna reward you now. Stuff my whore nice and full with this dick”

His hands grab your hips flipping you over with a soft thud, pulling your ass flush against his stiff cock positioning your back into a deep arch. He enters you in one swift go smacking your ass as he thrusts in and out. Your nails grip into the petals the same way his did on your ass forming crescent shaped marks across your plump skin. You were sure to wake up with marks everywhere tomorrow, from bites to bruises.

“Ahhh so good, nice and full now aren’t you, fuckin’ slut was waiting for this to happen weren’t you, probably fell on purpose, wore this tight suit hoping I’d just fuck you”

“Yesyesyes please let me cum please sir” “let go baby”

Once again you fall apart on Simons cock tightening and pulsing around the thick intrusion. He drives into you harder getting closer to cumming as you go dumb on his dick. His hand pushes your face into the comfort of the silky petals and your a drooling mess, with the only thought in your head being the way his cook feels inside of you as his balls slap loud and heavily against your clit. The feeling of your wet channel tightening from the overstimulation of his pumping has him reaching his climax, one last hard inward thrust of his hips has him releasing his hot load in you, the amount almost inhumane as it starts spilling out onto the sides of his cock, a white foamy ring of your mixed cum reaching the base.

He gently pulls out, eyes fixated on the heavenly sight of his cum oozing out from your hole, running down your clit to the petals you lay on. Your laying there like a descended angel with dazed eyes..and the last thing you remember is seeing Simon remove his jacket and crawl over towards you, gently placing a kiss on your forehead.

(unedited)

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley #call of duty #ghost x reader #cod smut #ghost mw2 #call of duty smut #simon riley smut #cod x reader #ghost smut #smut

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mismatched-sockss · 27 days

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Say something

» Summary: You and Emily have been seeing each other for a couple of months now -without anyone knowing -, but can't keep being her secret. » Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!BAU!Reader » Word count: 3,9k (omg, when??) » Warnings: angst, it's implied that reader is outed - Emily isn't, allusions to intercourse in the beginning, mentions of (internalized) homophobia, mentions of coming out (forced coming out is mentioned, one (1) small implication of conversion therapy like stuff (it's only talked about, no details or anything close)) and unsupportive family, mentions of Emily's mother probably not accepting her sexuality (like Rosa Diaz' mother/parents in Brooklyn 99, and a thing or two my own mother said), Emily is kind of mean ig?, cheating but not really?, cm typical stuff is mentioned (not detailed), kind of open but definitively more leaning to a sad ending; please let me know if i missed anything! » A/N: written for @imagining-in-the-margins' Pride Challenge, i used the “It’s never felt like this before. I've never felt like this before.” dialogue prompt; also based on Say something I'm giving up on you by Sam Redden; tenses? i don't know her here; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

The euphoric bliss that had flooded over you just moments before, leaves your body with every passing second, and the more it wears out, the more the dreadful empty feeling that had slithered its way into your heart not too long ago takes its place. Your breathing is still going fast and your heart hasn't had enough time to slow down yet, when you narrow your eyes while looking at the ceiling. Why did you do this to yourself? Again. This couldn't go on like this.

"I can't do this any more."

You can hear Emily move next to you, turning her head to look at you. She is breathing fast and her warm breath hits your bare shoulder. "What do you mean?" She brushes a few stands of her hair back that had fallen over her eyes.

All of a sudden everything is getting too much. The sensation of sweat running down the back of your neck, the air Emily is exhaling and how it is hitting your skin, over all her presence next to you in the bed. Her bed. Naked.

With a scoff you sit up and bury you face in your hands before you slide them up, racking your fingers through your damp hair. "This. Us. I just- I can't go on like this, spending my nights with you and act as if I haven't touched every inch of your body the next day."

Today is not the first time you had said it out loud and talked about it with her, about wanting to be able to hold and kiss her around other people. It is not the first time you are thinking about this, about leaving because nothing changed event though she had promised and her reasons – excuses , really, at this point – had been valid in the beginning, but now, every time she comes up with a new one they sound more and more made up. Honestly, you can't remember the newest one to a full extent – it had been so absurd –, but it had something to do with her shoes. Like, come on, really? Shoes...?

For a short moment it is silent except for both your breathing. You wait, and when she doesn't say anything you get up to get dressed. Nothing more than your name leaves Emily's lips, and not louder than a whisper, as you walk around the room to pick up your clothes and put them back on. “What?” you say flatly, but you don't look at her. You close the button of your pants and look around the room for your second sock.

“It's good what we are having. I like it how it is.” She shuffles closer, crawling over to edge of the mattress. “And sneaking around is exciting, isn't it?”

You crouch down to pull the missing sock from under the bed and bite down on your lip as your heart clenched painfully. Sneaking around?

“Is that what this is to you? Just... Sneaking around? That's all it is, huh.” A dry laugh leaves your lips as you slip the sock over your foot and then turn to walk out of the room.

“Oh c'mon, Y/N. It's fun, isn't it?” – Fun?! So this was just fun for her? – “You and I, we... It's enough how it is, don't you think?”

With one step out of the bedroom, the other foot still inside, you look back over your shoulder. “All this hiding is enough for you?” You don't fully turn around, you don't want to face her and look into her eyes. Don't want Emily to see the tears that are starting to pool in your eyes or how much her words are breaking your heart.

“I'm not hiding”, she says, defending herself, totally ignoring what you really meant.

You shake your head and leave the room, picking up your bag from the couch in the living room as you walk past it. “You are. And I get it, you're not out and that's okay.” Emily gets up from the bed and quickly puts on a bathrobe before she follows you out, watching you collect your things and walking to the front door. “You shouldn't come out unless you are ready. But at least be honest with yourself-”

“I am. not. hiding”, she interrupts you, her voice sounds strained and as if she is speaking through gritted teeth. The soft pat pat of her bare feet on the floor stop just two meters behind you.

Something in you snaps. "Yeah well, you are hiding me and I'm sick of being your god damn dirty little secret! I love you for fucks sake!"

You freeze as soon as the words leave your mouth, in the middle of putting on your jacket, and for a moment neither of you says a word, the silence seems louder than anything else, louder than how loud you just yelled those words. It was the first time either of you had said those three words to the other and the timing could not be any worse.

"You... What?"

You shake your head, breaking out of your frozen state and bend down to put on your shoes next. "Forget it. I'm done." is what you say. We're done is what you mean.

You wish she would at least say something, but Emily stays silent and when you reach for the door and open it, she doesn't keep you from walking out. When you close the door behind you, she doesn't open it again to call out for you. And when you reach the stairs at the end of the hallway and take the first steps down, the door stays closed and she doesn't run after you.

She let you leave like it was nothing, like you were nothing. Like all the time you had spent together meant nothing to her. All those days and nights full of hushed voices whispering sweet nothings to each other, full of soft touches and even softer kisses. Emily let you walk out of her apartment, her life, as if you never meant anything to her, like the last six months indeed were nothing more than fun to her.

From the moment you step out of the door of Emily's apartment building, to the moment you walk in and close the door of your own, you feel numb and you operated solely on autopilot on your way home. If someone were to ask you what route you had taken home or if you missed a red light even, you wouldn't be able to tell them.

As if a it hasn't been enough for one night, you get called into work just 30 minutes later; the body of a young woman had been found, tortured and mutilated, and another young woman had been abducted only five miles from where the body was found.

When you arrive in the round table room you greet your team mates grimly and you are relieved that you got in before Emily. When she enters minutes later, you don't turn around, you don't say hello and you do your best to ignore her. The tension in the room is palpable and judging by the looks the others shoot between her and you, they know that something had happened between you two.

They didn't know that you were dating – hooking up? What ever the fuck it had been to her anyway –, but you didn't have to be a profiler or even know either of you personally to see that something was up. Hotch is kind enough to not team the two of you up, sending you to the disposal site with Rossi instead.

The days since you walked out of Emily's apartment turned into weeks. The days turned into weeks since you last talked, like really talked. You had kept your distance to her as much as you could, trying to sort out your feelings and trying to see if she would take a step in your direction, to see if she even cared at all.

But, slowly but surely you had to accept the fact, that everything pointed to her not caring about you. Every conversation with her was strictly professional, talking about the cases was the only time you spoke to each other. Not a day goes by when you don't wish she would say something more to you, something personal, something deeper. Something emotional. That she would say something that would keep you from giving up on her. But she never did.

You should have known from the start that this was how it would end, that the only outcome from getting involved with Emily would be that you would end up with a broken heart. Naivety couldn't even begin to describe why you had even wasted a single thought about having a future with her, a happy ending; with Emily, a woman who hasn't come out, a woman with a mother who would be more okay with her daughter being the side chick of some married man, maybe even multiple, than to accept her daughter to be in a relationship with another woman; a mother who says, that she “doesn't care who her daughter ends up with, as long as it isn't someone of the same gender”.

Ever since the night you broke up with Emily – if you could even call it a break up when you weren't even a couple, officially speaking – you cry yourself to sleep and your feelings are bouncing back and forth, scrambling your mind and heart in to a broken, confused mess.

On one side, you are drowning in the shattered pieces of your heart; the pain getting stronger every time you see Emily, the longing and yearning strangling you harder every time you are left alone in a room with her, the floor under your feet crumbling away stone by stone with every day that passes without her reaching out to you. You miss her, you miss her so fucking much, and way more than you would like to admit – even to yourself, which is kind of hypocritical, considering you had told Emily to “be honest to herself”.

On the other side, you are cursing yourself for unintentionally giving her an ultimatum of some sort; not only for going public about your relationship, but therefore also for her to come out, even if only to your team, your friends. It was far from your intentions to pressure Emily into anything she didn't want to do, into something that she wasn't ready for. You never set a time or anything like that, but the implication was there – intended or not – by wanting to go public.

It is scary; coming out... As a woman who loves women, a man who loves men or either loving both. It doesn't matter if you come out as transgender, non-binary or gender-fluid, asexual or aromantic, or … or. ... or ... It doesn't matter who you are or what you feel or who you love: it is hard and scary either way and you never know how the person in front of you will react, even if you think you know.

Coming out to people, to friends, who you trust and know on a deeper level – even when you already for a hundred percent are sure that they will accept you no matter what – is hard enough. Coming out to your family is another kind of scary uncertainty: hoping they will still love you, that they will accept and support you; the fear of them turning their backs on you, cutting you out of their lives and on top of all this, hoping that if this was the case, that this was all they would do, hoping it would stay the lesser kind of evil and that they wouldn't go to any extreme measures to try and “fix” you. It was already hard enough to come out planned and willingly at your own pace. But having to do it for what ever reason? Unimaginable. Cruel.

On more than one evening you dialled Emily's number, your thumb hovering over the green button and ready to press down. Ready to apologize for how you had reacted and what you had said, for pressuring her. Maybe even apologizing for telling her that you loved her –

Wait. What?

Yes, maybe you should swallow your pride and call her first and ask her to talk; but apologizing for your feelings? No, you were done with shoving your feelings down and taking what you could get and stay in a one-sided relationship – letting the person use and play with you while they were stringing you along. For them to give you a slither of requited affection whenever they could feel you slip away, depending on your soft heart and that you would stay in hopes they will requite your feelings, your love, someday. No, you were done slowly dying for unrequited love.

The ball is in her court and it is on her to throw it back or to keep it.

Being around Emily has gotten unbearable these last six weeks. You had never felt like this before, never felt like this for anyone else until you had met her. It was all overwhelming and too much, but not enough at the same time, the feelings overpowering you in the best and worst kind of ways; pushing and pulling at your heart, slowly tearing it apart but also glueing it back together in a wild storm of emotions. You felt like you were just starting to learn how to love, but also knowing exactly how to do it – how to love her, in the right way and with everything you had; heart, body and soul.

But it doesn't seem like your love is enough; enough to save what ever you and Emily had been having, to find your way back into each others arms.

The last straw, the rotten cherry on top, was on a night out with the team to celebrate a successful case at a bar near the FBI building and you walked in on Emily making out with someone else in a dark corner near the restrooms. It was too dark for you to fully see the other person. And for a second you aren't sure what would hurt you more: if she was making out with a man, or with a woman.

You get your answer rather quickly, when Emily sees you and pushes the person away. They stumble back a step or two and then turn their head to follow Emily's gaze. And... it's a woman.

There are no words to describe how you are feeling as the realisation sinks in; leaving you cold and numb. How could you have been so stupid? It had never been about her. Not about the hurtful and homophobic things her mother always says to her, not about her outing, not about her feelings. It had nothing to do with not being ready to come out and go public about your relationship. It had to do with going public about being with you. The problem, her problem, is and always has been you.

Is she really embarrassed about you, about being with you? That's a new one... You wonder if she ever even liked you in the first place.

It feels like an eternity before either of you move again, after just looking at each other.

“W- what are you doing here?” Emily mutters and you see her wince when she realises how stupid that question was.

You scoff and narrow your eyes at her. “Looking for the exit”, you answer her, deadpan, before turning on your heels and walking back to the table where you and your team were sitting to get your things. You don't answer any of their worried questions about what was wrong, you just down the rest of your drink and grab your purse. You get your wallet out and throw a couple of bills on the table to pay for your part of the tab before you walk out of the bar without another word.

You make your way to the office right after you walked out. Last week, you had gotten the offer to transfer back to the IRT again; well, unofficially offered actually. You had only been on Hotch's team for four years; before then, you had worked under Jack Garrett for quiet some time. Occasionally, maybe twice a year, you travelled with them for consultations. So when Matt Simmons goes on paternity leave in a couple of days, you are the first person Garrett asks to come back for the time being and you were happy to do so. Garrett had called you and as you spoke you joked about feeling hurt that he only wanted to keep you for one month. And even though he was joking too when he said he'd be happy to have you back permanently, you knew he meant it.

Just last week you hadn't been sure if you wanted to stay with your current team or go back. The stack of forms that were needed to request a permanent transfer were already sitting in a drawer of your desk, all filled out. The fact that you had filled them out right after the call ended should have told you then, that you already had made up your mind.

When you reach the sixth floor, you hear the ding of the elevator softly echo through the empty halls. You make a beeline to your desk in the bull pen and fish your keys out of your purse to unlock the drawer. Just when you took out the envelope with all the forms and reach down to close the drawer again, you hear the soft ding again, followed by the sound of the doors sliding open.

Your back is turned to the doors so you don't know who walks out of the elevator; you guess it had to be someone on their way to the crime lab or something.

Until you hear your name that is, and you immediately freeze. How the fuck did she know you would be here?

You turn around and see Emily standing in the bull pen, but keeping a distance to you. “Can we talk?” She slowly walks closer and her gaze falls on the envelope. “What are you doing?”

You press the tip of your tongue to your cheek and take a second before you answer. “Paper work.”

“Paper work?”

“Yes.” You pick up your keys and start to walk towards Hotch's office. You don't want to hear what she has to say.

She says your name again and grips your arm to stop you from walking away. “It's not what you think.”

You laugh at the cliche reaction. Of course it's not what you think. It never is, isn't it?

“Okay, what is it then? Tell me”, you challenge her as you turn to look at her, your tone cold and the corners of you lips are twitching to form a bitter smile, “Go on, tell me. Because it seems pretty obvious to me.”

You twist your arm out of her grip and before she even has time to say something, you bite out: “You know what? We're not even together, I don't care what you do and who you do it with. Fuck who ever you want for all I care. Start with your- who ever she is.”

“I don't want to talk about her.”

“Oh, you don't? Too bad. What else is there to talk about then?”

For a moment she opens and closes her mouth, ending her answer before she even spoke it out loud. “I-. I want to talk about u- about you and me.”

When you don't react she nods her head, like she is confirming that you had hear right and that it was indeed what she wanted.

“Really? Now, you suddenly want to talk to me, about us?” She nods again, her eyes wide and she is giving you the best pleading puppy dog eyes she can do.

“No.”

For a moment she is taken aback and she blinks a couple of times. “No?”

You take a step back and cross your arms over your chest. “No. I don't want to talk. The only reason you want to talk, now, is because I saw you. It's too late. You had six weeks to talk, but you didn't. You're too late. I would have followed you anywhere, you know. Wherever you would want me to go. I would have followed you to the end of the fucking world and would even walk farther, falling over the edge into the abyss. I would walk through fire for you and I'd do it with a smile.”

You couldn't stop yourself from spilling it all out; and just like you can't stop the tears that started to run down your face, you can't stop talking. “You're it for me, you are the one I love. And it’s never felt like this before. I've never felt like this before.” You sniffle and bite down on your lip. “You are the one. And if I am not to you, and you don't love me back that's fine but then at least have the balls to fucking tell me, instead of making up excuses why you don't want to tell anybody that we are seeing each other.”

She had put on a mask while you were talking, hiding her true emotions. Yet again, you wait for her to say something. And yet again all you are met with, is silence.

“Say something...”, you say, almost begging. “Just... Say something...”

Nothing. Emily stays silent and just looks at you, a vacant and unreadable expression on her face and in her eyes. The small part in you that is still wishing upon a star and is hoping, that she would come through, waited for her to talk. But it is no use. She stays silent, like all the other times in these last weeks. So much for her wanting to talk.

“Figures”, you scoff, a bitter smile stretching on your lips, and you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “I should have given up on you way before I even kissed you”, you say under your breath. You aren't sure if she heard you, but in all honesty, you don't care.

Without wasting another second you turn around and walk up to Hotch's office. You place the envelope with the filled out forms for your immediate transfer in the middle of your Unit Chief's – well, ex Unit Chief's– desk. His signature being the last thing you needed before you could file the request.

You walk out of his office, not sparing even one last look at Emily, who hasn't moved. A few steps after you passed her you stop for a moment to say something for a last time, before you cross the rest of the bull pen and walk out through the glass door; leaving the BAU behind. Leaving her behind.

Two small words, nothing more..

“Goodbye Emily.”

» A/N 2: i really hope i did this justice, especially the (not) coming out parts, tbh i don't think i myself ever really came out, like 'officially', but i have always been open about being bisexual (no idea if my parents ever really connected the dots, but we're no contact either way for different reasons, so what ever) so i'm not sure how well i portrayed it; ...

🌈 Always remember, no matter if you are in the closet or not: you are worthy, you are loved and you are perfect the way you are! Stay safe. 🖤🤎🤍❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #ghosts can write #mentioningmargins #writing challenge #❤️ e.p.#--- mismatched🧦

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lenoraah · 9 months

Text

𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘢

pairing - george russell x wife!reader

summary - reader and George always been friend of a friend of a friend, but the 2022 Las Vegas GP and one night out partying with tequila changes out, they only find out until a year later

a/n - this is going to be full of dirty, dirty secrets between characters. i imagine reader to have short raven hair and, weirdly specifically, a tattoo of angel wings with a heart in between them on her chest. but of course the hair color won’t be black and the tattoo might be mentioned…. also reader’s best friend is Daniel Ricciardo and she will have another best friend (who will be named Anastasia) because I need another character and I’m to lazy to add another driver who fits the vibe 🥴 idk, this is so random :) p.s not proofread

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Look what I found!”

Daniel sing-songs happily as he enters the room. He clutches a leather covered book in his hands as a shit-eating grin covers his face.

“What did you find now Daniel?” Y/n sighs as she smiles a little at the excitement in her best friend’s eyes.

“A photo album that someone has been hiding.” Daniel glances at Anastasia who shrugs and sticks her tongue out.

George walks in with a three cups of coffee in his hands just as Daniel is about to open his mouth and the book.

“Hi Georgie,” Stassie teases as George hands her the steaming cup of caffeine.

The Brit rolls his eyes and hands Daniel his coffee next.

“Hi George,” Y/n makes her appearance known and George jumps in surprise.

“Hi Y/n,” George says as a tinted pink color covers his cheeks. “Sorry, I would gotten you coffee too if someone would’ve told me you were here.”

George narrow his eyes at Daniel who scoffs.

“Here, you can have my cup.” Daniel hands his cup to Y/n who glances at George and then smiles sheepishly as she takes it.

“Yeah it’s not like he needs it anyway, he’s all sunshine and rainbows.” Ana snort laughs and George smiles little.

Daniel rolls his eyes and sits down at the armchair next to him.

“Let’s see what’s in here,” The Australian opens the book and raises an eyebrow at the first photo.

“What? What is it?” Ana leans over and tries to take a look but Daniel pulls away, leaning to the other side of the chair.

“It’s you,” Daniel can’t help but start laughing uncontrollably as he flips the album to show George and Y/n.

The picture is of Anastasia as a toddler with a party hat on her head of strawberry blonde hair and frosting covering her hands and body.

Ana screeches reaching for the book but Daniel only keeps laughing as he keeps looking over the book.

The find pictures of George and Daniel in racing gear and with helmets too big for their heads. Y/n and Ana doing baby antics like putting their foot in their mouth or throwing food around with a toothless grin on their face.

“Uh, woah, what is this?” Daniel’s face scrunches together as he pulls the book closer to his face.

“What? What is it?” Anastasia leans over to read and her jaw drops the moment she sees the document in the album.

“What is it?” George and Y/n both tug their brows together and all four of their eyes widen when they like in the realization of the information of the paper in front of them.

“The two of you of married?”

————————————————————————

“Uh huh, yep, thank you.”

Anastasia sighs and places her phone on the table before she sits down.

“So? What is it? Are we married or not.” Y/n nudges at Anastasia’s elbow and bounces in her seat.

“Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, you are the Mrs Russell.”

George and Y/n share a look and Daniel and Stassie can only open their mouths in wonder before closing them.

It was a mistake. They could barely remember stumbling into the church and having the drunkest smiles on their faces as they said yes.

The feelings and emotions were hidden for so long until finally their intrusive thoughts finally took over; at a church, in Las Vegas while they were both drunk.

“What’s the next step?” Daniel asks quietly.

“Uh, I think it’s time we talk it out.” George ushers both Daniel and Anastasia out the door.

The two both sigh once their friends leave and they are left alone.

George glances at Y/n’s form. She looks out at the window with her knees brought up to her chest. Her tattoo is visible through her lavender tank top.

“I love you, you know?” George kneels down in front of Y/n and takes her hands in his.

“I know and I love you too. But we both knew that eventually that is we were going to have to talk about it.” The y/h/c smiles sheepishly as her tries to avoid George’s eyes.

“I know, and we’ll figure it out. Because you’re my wife, ring or no ring.”

“Well, a ring wouldn’t be that bad.” Y/n mumbles and George laughs.

“Yeah, we’ll make it work.”

————————————————————————

five years later-

”Henry, please stop running again.”

“Mummy! Mummy, look! Daddy’s on TV.” The four year old happily grins as he points at the screen which is playing reruns of moments from the race.

“Yes, he is darling. Please sit down,” Y/n presses a kiss on her son’s head who happily obliges with his eyes glued on the TV.

Y/n sighs and runs a hand through Henry’s hair and watches as George’s post-race interview plays.

A light tug on the bottom on Y/n’s sweatpants makes her tear her attention away from watching her husband’s face on the TV screen.

The toddler wobbles in her place as she hold onto her mother’s leg for support. Y/n picks up her one year old and sets her right above her belly.

Henry turns around and faces his mother, his small hands resting on Y/n’s bump. Pippa immediately turns to face her brother who reaches up to peck his baby sister’s nose.

The toddler shrieks and giggles flapping her hands around. Y/n smiles at her children’s happiness that she can’t even notice that sound of the door opening.

Pippa leans against her mother’s chest and one of her hands press up against the heart on her mother’s chest. The toddler smiles and starts mumbling when she notices someone walk through into the living room.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” Pippa whimpers and mumbles into Y/n’s shoulder as she watches George smiles at her and places a finger on his lips.

“Sweetheart, Daddy’s not home yet.” Y/n rubs her daughter’s back and places a kiss on her head.

Pippa whines and Y/n rocks her side to side. Y/n stays like that with her daughter until she feels a pair of arms wrap around the crook between her belly and breasts.

“Woah, hi stranger.” Y/n raises an eyebrow at her husband who reaches out for his daughter with a small pout on his face.

“Daddy!” Henry runs fastest than Y/n has ever seen him run and clutches his father’s leg.

George grins while hugging both of his children and wife.

“I missed you,” He presses a kiss on Y/n’s head and a hand on her bump. “All four of you.”

“We missed you too,” Y/n rolls her eyes at her husband’s slight cheesiness. She pretends that she hates it but he knows that she loves it.

They’ve made it through everything, there is no way that they weren’t going to make everything work for the rest of forever.

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