#i think there are some parts of your ask i kind of skipped over | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

risuola · 6 months

Text

II — JUST HUSH // Morning after the adventure with the dangerous stranger went just like you suspected - horribly, but that wasn't the worst that was waiting for you.

contents: angst, mafia!au, violence, few suggestive parts, insults, somewhat of an obsessive behaviors, reader discretion is advised — 4,3k words

a/n: officialy, this fic became a series - I wasn't expecting it to be so loved by you, readers and I can't thank you enough for the support to this story. also, there is a suggestion in my ask!box that I took a lot of inspiration for this chapter, so whoever gave the idea, thank you ❤️

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

Being soft was a trait that Sukuna never actively credited himself with. He never had any urge to do so, never needed to explore that side of him and in his profession, that would most likely lead to a certain death. Leading people of mafia required him to be harsh and rough, there was no time and place for any kindness and gentleness and honestly, if anybody asked him about it just yesterday, he would say with certainty that the softness in him died long time ago. Even with women, he was never exactly sensual – he’s rather the type to take what he needs, devour what he’s hungry for and leave. Aftercare wasn’t his strong suit, for some reason inside his mind taking care of someone made him weak. That was before you.

You met not even a day ago, you asked for his help and once you got his attention, he knew he was fucked. You were just so gorgeous, so innocent and the way your glossed with tears eyes looked into his, he felt the strangest warmth inside his chest – a need of protection? Something so foreign and absurd that wouldn’t usually cross his mind. But then, he had you in his house, he had you on top of him and he had you hungry. You were smart, surely you noticed the gun pinned to his belt, he wasn’t exactly discreet about it and yet, you chose to stay with him for the night. It had to be some kind of sinister plan of yours, Sukuna wondered.

Were you put in his way to sabotage him?

He had no idea, but once the day was bright and now close to evening, you were still sleeping in his bed, with your head resting atop of his chest and one of your legs thrown over his own. You were breathing slowly and peacefully, so blissfully unaware of how dangerous it is for you to be in the same house with him, not to mention lay tangled with him below the sheets. As he smoothed over your bare shoulder with his fingers, he was thinking about how the night went. The sex was great, the best he had in years. You were playing along with him, you wanted him as much as he wanted you and as you playfully fought for dominance with him, he could have sworn it was the sexiest thing he’s ever experienced. The way you tugged his hair, pushing him nose deep into your dripping core and keeping him there until he made you cum almost made him cum as well, just from the slight dominance you had on him. Even though he allowed this to happen. He could still recall the delicious sting of your nails scratching red marks onto his back and shoulders. Every time his name slipped over your tongue, his heart seemed to skip a beat.

Just like that, you’ve got him hooked, but even so, he should have kept his word. He should have made you get dressed, maybe, out of curtesy, allow you to take a shower so that his seed wouldn’t run down your legs and mess up the leather in his car. He should have driven you home as soon as he was finished with you, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when you wrapped yourself around him, exhausted and already half-asleep, searching for the warmth of his body. Not when your weight on top of him felt like it was meant to lay there and especially not when your lips pressed few lazy kisses to the side of his neck before you dozed off.

You moved, rolling away from him and onto your back. You were waking up, he could tell by the sound of your quiet hums and the way your breath pattern changed from slow and calm to deep and more present. Sukuna flipped to his side, taking in the beauty of your features, now illuminated with the daylight. Your makeup kept up pretty well and even the smudged edges couldn’t take away your loveliness.

You hummed a little louder, groggily reaching up with your hands and arching your back like a cat in a long, sharp stretch. The covers slipped off your chest, exposing the pink of your nipples that now matched the many marks he had sucked onto your flesh just hours ago. Then your body relaxed, once again falling onto the mattress and a smile stretched your lips when Ryomen put his fingers against your skin. He brushed it ever so lightly along the shapes of your form, running along your collar bones, circling around the nipples and then, moving it down up and down your sternum.

“Good morning,” you purred against his lips when he reached to kiss you.

“More like good evening,” he replied, his voice quiet and calm as he moved his hand to the side of your body and pulled you flush against his chest. You hooked your leg onto his hip and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers into his hair.

“That late, huh?”

“That late.”

It was dangerous. The way you looked into his eyes, the relaxed stance your body, oblivious to the fact you were in the embrace of death personified – it was all too dangerous for Sukuna. It was too warm, too lovely, too innocent. He hated the vulnerability you subjected him to and the fact his head was filled with wishes to protect you? Fuck, it was bad. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t what he stood for in his life, it was against all of his morals. He had always been a man of few emotions, always cold and never letting anything or anyone get to him. He was calculating, feared by many and respected by few. He had risen through the ranks of the underworld by means that were often brutal and always efficient. Never, not once, he had let emotions to cloud his judgement or stand in the way of his goals. But then, you happened.

“The night…” You murmured softly, brushing the tip of your nose against his own. “I enjoyed it very much, ‘kuna—” And the nickname?!

“That’s enough,” he groaned, his tone coming in sharp and cold and it immediately brought you back to your senses. The wishful daze of bliss vanished in an instant, suddenly the tension came back to your shoulders. It was too much for Sukuna, he wanted to have a nice fuck that night and he already made a mistake by letting you stay in his bed when he was done with you. It was dangerous for you, it was dangerous for him and honestly, that lovey-dovey shit has never been his brand anyway. “Time for you to go.”

“What happened? You were so delicate just a moment ago—”

“Spare me the dumb romantic shit. I just wanted to fuck you, don’t get ahead of yourself and if you wish to keep that pretty head of yours then better get fucking going. I’ll have a driver take you back home.” He shut you down roughly and from that point, it all went quickly. You were gone in just few moments. You were gone, but the man felt no relief.

…

Few days passed by. Or was it weeks? Sukuna couldn’t tell as days began blurring their edges and all he could focus on was you. He couldn’t rid himself of the memory of you rushing in fear, just barely clothed as if he was about to hunt you down and shot you in the head if you didn’t leave his space. As if the one minute longer would cost you your life. Every time he closed his eyes or got into his bed he could see the picture of your face, the display of hurt and fright that stained the beautiful innocence in the moment he had told you to leave, discarding you as if you were a toy that he used and got bored of.

What was this feeling? He was asking himself every time he had watched you from afar. Was it guilt? He couldn’t tell, it felt foreign. For Ryomen it was an everyday thing to scare someone off, the blood of his enemies is what he’s ravishing in but you… You were far from being his enemy. And so he found himself more and more often observing you, each time being in the same place as you by accident. You made him fascinated, you made him fall into your trap. He found himself drawn to you, drawn to the light that you brought with you. He was missing you. Was that your plan all along? A revenge for how he had treated you that one night?

Your heart was pure, almost too pure for this world, Sukuna thought to himself every time he had a chance to see your everyday life. A waitress, serving tables in a small, local café, wearing the smile that he could tell was fake, and yet it charmed everyone and he couldn’t help but feel the odd sense of pride when he realized that the way your lips were curved the night you were together was utterly real. And then, he would see you on your days off, wearing cozy and comfy clothes, no makeup adorning your face as you were lost in the world of music in your headphones and whatever task you had in front of your face on the screen of your computer. You were too cute for your own good, with the little scrunch of your nose whenever you closed your tired eyes and the colorful stickers of cats and sunflowers that decorated the outside of your laptop. He’s seen you feeding some stray kittens with the salmon from your sandwich, petting their little heads as they were leaning into your touch and Sukuna would never imagine himself being jealous of the feline, but there he was, hidden behind the darkened windows in his car, wishing to be the one who’s head is in the warm and delicate embrace of your soft palm. Fleeting attraction, that’s what it had to be.

Sukuna had never thought of himself as a romantic, but there was something about you that did it for him. You were soft, gentle and vulnerable in a way that made him want to protect you, to shield you from the violent life he led. And yet, you were also strong, strong enough to face him, to challenge him and even make him laugh. It was a strange combination, and it made him feel things he had never felt before. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was thinking of you more and more often. He had to be careful, though. He could tell that you were innocent, that you didn’t understand the world he lived in. If he let himself get to close, he might put you in danger and the thought of that, he couldn’t bear. He had a responsibility to keep you safe, even if it meant pushing you away. And for the first time in his life, he was scared. Scared that if he plays this whole thing wrong, he might lose you, even if he never truly had you. He was scared you’ll find out who he really was and scared of what that would do to you. He knew you noticed his gun, you had to notice it, but did you really had any idea what that meant?

For you, the time after meeting the stranger in the club was everything but easy. The hurt subsided quite rapidly, your heart wasn’t stupid enough to grow attached to a man you’d known for just few hours and deep down you knew that what you started by asking him for help had to end up somewhat similar to what happened. He wasn’t a prince from the fairy tale and you were no princess, it wasn’t a story of love, it was just sex and with that, you came to terms quite quickly. It was the fright that you couldn’t shake off your shoulders. Sukuna was a man that was keeping a gun attached to his belt, he had to be a gangster or something along these lines and considering the big, rounded and scared eyes of everyone in his proximity you’d only assume that his position in the world was at least threatening. It stayed in the back of your mind that he might have come for you, to hurt you or worse. He had shown you where he lives, after all, wasn’t that enough of a reason to erase someone from the world?

But nothing bad happened as your life went by, somehow it seemed as if it was even going smoother than it used to. The one very stubborn client, one that used to harass you every time he had a chance suddenly stopped showing in the café you work in; you even got a little raise from your boss, what despite being a bonus that you really needed, was also the most suspicious thing that happened to you lately. Your boss never gave raises. Life was good, until—

…

—you opened your eyes feeling pain. At first, you couldn’t tell what happened to you. Where were you? How did you get here? And why was everything so white?

Breathe in and out. Why did breathing hurt? And what was that beeping?

“You’re awake,” a voice made you turn your head to the side. And then, at the sight of a familiar face, it all flashed back.

It was at night, you were heading home from the meeting with your co-workers. An absurd celebration of something that you were quite certain didn’t even concerned you or your interns, but your boss required you all to be present anyways. It was tiring, to stay in the café after nearly ten hours shift, but thankfully during the event you were sitting and not actively working, so at least it was that much. Your legs hurt nonetheless, you felt fatigued after the entire week of intense shifts intertwined with classes, so when you were suddenly yanked by the wrist to the back, it wasn’t much of a surprise to you that you lost your balance.

“What do we have here, eh?” One of the men spoke and as you looked up, two faces were glaring at you with disgusting sense of superiority. “Oi, Naoya, is that the bitch you were talking about?”

“Bet it is,” the second man snorted. “She fits the description.”

Naoya? The name rang a bell so roughly and suddenly that your eyes widened in fear. It was the man you met in the club, the one that was all over you the second he met you. The one that you escaped only thanks to asking another stranger for help. But now, you couldn’t see him. Who stood above you was a man with long, silver hair and a face covered in linear scars. He was wearing a face of psychotic content, a grin so unsettling that it froze the blood inside your veins and just by the look of him you could tell he was dangerous. And then, the second one stood right next to him – his hair was pitch black and eyes probably green-ish, with little scar on the side of his lip that made itself apparent the moment you looked at him. He was insanely well-built, in a shirt that looked like one of those compression, sport-related attires.

“What do you want from me…?” You asked, your voice uncharacteristically quiet, as if the fear made your vocal cords clench. And you felt it, an unsettling feeling of upcoming death and it led to a chain of regret of every choice that you made that led you to this place and time. You should’ve taken a taxi. Or go a different route.

“Oh, we’re here to teach you a lesson,” the white-haired one responded as the other grinned like the devil himself. And then, they moved to the sides a little and right in the middle appeared the man that you do recognize. Naoya Zenin himself, with his face twisted in some kind of sick satisfaction as he grabbed your hair and yanked you up from the ground. Your back hit the concrete wall and his near proximity made you instantly tensed.

“I got you,” he grinned and there was violence intertwined into the expression his face bore. “I finally fucking got you.”

“Just leave me alone…” You demanded, your voice much weaker that you’d like it to be, much less constructive, not confident at all. You were frightened, to say the least, there was no way you could protect yourself from one man, but three? “Please.” As you begged, your own death flashed before your eyes. There was no way in hell you’re gonna survive this, that had to be it. The night was dark enough to cover the crime that was happening and even if there would be any bravery in you still left, nobody would help you. No one would be dumb enough to stand against the group that was about to abuse you.

“Oh, the little bitch is scared, huh?” Naoya laughed right into your face, his tongue leaving a wet trace along your throat and it filled you with enough disgust to wince. “Where’s your protector now, eh? Where’s your big daddy Sukuna?”

“What’s your problem?” The question slipped through your tongue in nothing more than a whisper. You couldn’t believe that you’re going to die because you asked a random man for help and that random man turned out to be a gang member or something. “I don’t have anything to do with him, I—”

“Of course, you don’t. I’m sure he fucked you and threw you out like a trash you are,” Zenin spit nothing but venom as his eyes were piercing holes into your skull. You could feel his hand sneaking underneath the fabric of your hoodie and your attempts on pushing him away did nothing to stop him from squeezing one of your breasts. “I bet you’re a good fuckthing tho.”

“Get your hands off of me,” you warned, your voice now rougher but still, too quiet to pose any threat. You wanted to nail his eyes out, to rip his heart out of his chest, but none of that you were able to do. Naoya laughed, once again, sounding like an asshole he was as he stepped back.

“Undress.” It was an order that he threw at you. Him, along with the other two, circled you as if predators would circle their prey and you felt small below the weight of their eyes.

“No.”

The moment you denied, the sharp pain sent you to the ground. He hit you, one of them, right in the face, with the top of his hand. The harsh contact of his knuckles and your cheekbone snatched you off your feet.

“You heard the order. Behave, slut.” The dark haired one was speaking calmly, but there was a certain coldness in his tone. The nonchalance that froze your insides.

“No…” You whispered, desperate to keep your dignity intact before you die. Immediately they showed you why hoping for it was foolish, as the series of kicks enveloped you in the cage of pain and suffering. You hid your head inside your arms, a helpless try to protect it from the heavy boots that not once held back before making contact with your fragile frame. You remember the sound of their voices, the feeling of their fists connecting again and again with your body.

“So fucking stupid,” someone laughed at you and you were far from sure and way too scared to check it yourself, but you could have sworn that somebody spit at you. “Don’t you understand? Nobody will save you now, no one cares about a bitch like you. I’d say it last time. Undress.”

“N-no…”, you sniffled, hugging your head tightly as if bracing yourself for another salve of hurt. But it didn’t come, no hit was aimed at your curled on the ground body. Instead, you heard the pained whines from not too far away, you heard the sounds of a battle and was it the sound of bones being broken? You couldn’t tell, it felt surreal, was that it? Was that how you’re gonna die? Because surely no one in their right mind would step into action, risking being killed themselves for you.

“Hey, I’ll take you to the hospital,” that voice. You knew that. You heard it for such a short time in your life and yet you’d recognize it everywhere. The low, slightly husky tone that you remembered as one that was enough to turn you on just by the sound of it. Now it was accompanying the very gentle arms that scooped you off the floor. Then, you dared to open your eyes.

…

“Ryomen?” Your voice felt weak, your throat hoarse from the dryness but that didn’t stop you from speaking. The more information got into your brain, the easier it got to understand what was the place you woke up in.

A hospital. You woke up in the hospital bed, surrounded by monitors and machines. Your body bruised and battered, ached with each breath you tried to take. Your head was still foggy and your muscles stiff, you had a pounding headache that only got worse as the memories of the night before came flooding back to you. You were lucky. So incredibly lucky to be alive. And yet again, Sukuna saved you. Then you probably passed out.

“You’re awake,” he sounded soft. How odd. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… why are you here?”

“I had to check if you’re alright. And also I’m gonna take you home, but needed to wait until you’re awake and doctors can give you the last checkup.” He explained it matter-of-factly and it only got you more confused than you were just a second ago.

“That… doesn’t exactly answer my question…?”

“It will do for now. I’ll bring the doctor.”

Sukuna left the room sooner than you had a chance to ask anything else. He felt as if the weight was taken off his shoulders the very second you opened your eyes and recognized him. The last hours were an agony, he stayed near your bed for the entire time and though there was nothing that was threatening your life anymore, he couldn’t help but feel so awfully guilty. The foreign feeling of it made him realize that he was fucked up good, you had poisoned him with emotions that he already forgot about, the useless display of something that he considered a weakness for the better of his life. As he was watching your fragile frame, though covered with white, clean sheets he felt the rage boiling inside his veins because he knew. He saw the damage on your body, the bruises that painted your soft skin in dark, purple-ish blotches, the patch of scratches on your side – in place where your naked hip met the ground. And your cheek… there still was a red spot on top of your cheekbone, the one Sukuna assumed was also a result of a hit and it angered him even more because if he has noticed it before, he would for sure kill those imitations of a men and not only leave them in a mush.

Sukuna felt a certain sense of responsibility due to what happened to you. It wasn’t your fault, per se, that when you were looking for help in that club when you first met him, you had the misfortune to pick a persona like him and frankly, if Sukuna would know back then that Naoya will come for you later to get his revenge, he would kill him right then and there. The more he thought about it, the more he was realizing that he would kill anyone if it was to keep you safe.

“Ready to go home?” Ryomen asked, assisting you in pulling your bruised arms through the sleeves of a hoodie he had brought you. A clean one, way too big on your frame but comfortable at that, lined with plush so that it won’t irritate your injured skin.

“I think so…?” Your reply was confused, it was unsure and still slightly underlined with fear. There was a reason to it, last time you saw the man that was now trying to help you, he threatened to rid you of your head. “Ryomen, I don’t understand—”

“Just hush,” he cut you, gently swooping you off the edge of the bed and you settled in the safety of his muscular arms, leaning your head against his shoulder, next to his neck. “I was told you still should rest so let me take you home. Alright? Alright.”

There was no point in arguing, you couldn’t do much whilst in his arms even if you tried and it was naïve, you thought, but there was a sense of protection tied tightly to the way he was keeping you close. You felt as if any danger couldn’t reach you when his hands were wrapped around you. He was dangerous, that much you knew, and yet there was a gentleness in a way he was holding you near his chest, near the place where his heart beats in a regular, calm rhythm. Fact is, you didn’t want to run away from him, though you should. And so, you leaned into him, nuzzling your head into the dip between his neck and shoulder and as you breathed in his scent, the musky note of his cologne and tobacco, you felt at ease.

taglist: @yihona-san06 @tiredscavengerskeleton @son4aras @vixorell @cecesharktales @isleqt @thickmacandcheese

2K notes · View notes

lcriedlastnight · 2 months

Text

down in the grumps | lando norris

fem!reader. reader getting talked about behind her back :( and oblivious reader.

w/c: 2.1k

it’s not that you were being grumpy on purpose. most of the time you didn’t even realise that your replies to simple questions were short and snappy. or that your face seemed to screw up with or without your permission at something you had heard one of your friends say.

they were all used to it by now, after having dealt with it the whole friendship. and you of course, couldn’t help it if your first reaction to mostly anything you were told, was a blunt, sarcastic answer. your face always unapproachable, looking like someone had just told you the most annoying news of your life.

lando knew this when he met you. he even thought the same as everyone else, at first. seeing you chat with your friend, will, as he talks with his hands, excitedly over something. your face pinched in what looked like annoyance. it made him frown at first as he thought it was quiet rude of you to look pissed off when your friend seemed to speak so animatedly. of course as soon as will introduced you both and he got to know you he realised, that you were just unintentionally like that. you were interested in what he was saying, and yeah sometimes you did start pointless, petty arguments but lando had the ability to brush off your silly comments and instead tried to find a way to cheer you up. he had gotten so used to finding ways to make you feel less uptight that it completed skipped his mind that others might not be quite as unbothered by it all as him.

bringing you to the paddock for the australian grand prix had always been the plan. deciding that this weekend would be a great time to hard launch your relationship.

“do i look alright?” you ask, staring at your outfit in the hotel mirror, with a razor sharp gaze, analysing your outfit. lando’s eyes trail down your figure, analysing your outfit too, but with much more love and kindness than you were giving yourself. your face still set hard with the usual furrow of your brows and deep frown, making you look, for a lack of a better word, pissed.

lando leaves the bathroom and pulls your hand straight in the air. before you can question it though, he’s spinning you around lightly. this does ease your worries and makes a small smile appear on your lips for a minute. his silent reassurance spoken loudly through his eyes are they crease with his bright smile, hints of adoration shine through.

“you could’ve just said i looked nice, no need for the theatrics” you grumble out as you straighten up in the mirror and move to place a small kiss on the side of his smile.

lando cries out dramatically. “you missed!”. you roll your eyes and make your way towards the door. your way of telling lando you’re ready to leave. of course he knows this and is hot on your tail, his laugh echoing through the corridors of your floor as he pulls you close by your hand.

the paddock buzzed with cameras and fans and somewhere between them all you were sure there was drivers. you were actually really excited as this was your first time in the paddock.

lando could tell how excited you were just by looking at you. the way your eyes darted around, trying to take in everything at once, they didn’t move quickly though (that was how he knew you were nervous). the way you walked an inch ahead of him. your hand squeezing his as you recognise someone he knows, a driver or a team principal or even a mclaren engineer he knows well, excited to get to know this part of him too. none of this even noticeable to anyone except him, your face still showing your usual expression. lando thinks he likes it better this way, he likes having to read you to know what your feeling.

the first person you meet is oscar. he's sitting in the mclaren motorhome, with his own girlfriend. you fall a little behind lando, as he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

“hey mate, andrea wants to speak to you before you leave today at some point” oscar says, finding himself looking at you in confusion. he knew lando had a girlfriend, but he didn’t expect to see her. and for her to be so… mad? for seemingly no reason, lando was smiling wildly, which confused him more.

“cool.” lando replies as he pulls you closer to his side. he introduces you with a proud smile and oscar throws him a weary one back.

“hey, nice to finally meet you.” oscar says simply. this did not seem like the girl lando ranted and raved about. you hadn’t even said a word yet.

you shoot him a tight lipped smile and return the pleasantry, to him and to lily beside him, who responds kindly. lando pulls you tighter as he and oscar discuss something about the race. you listen intently, and interrupt when lando accidently gets mixed up with what he’s talking about.

instead of seeing it as you helping lando, the couple see it as rude, as you don’t apologise for butting in when you weren’t really even a part of the conversation. lando just sends you an appreciative smile, and returns to what he was talking about, which worried oscar. as he thinks he’s completely ignoring your red flags. he decides he’ll talk to him about it later, when you aren’t standing beside him looking like your about to kick off.

they chat for a bit, you chirping in, when you feel like it. none of it going unnoticed by the australian and his girlfriend. lando mentions something about dropping around the ferrari and red bull garages later on and you feel yourself getting excited again.

you and lando take turns at pulling each other around the paddock all day. lando only leaving your side for a few hours when he has media to do. afterwards he takes you to meet max, who tries to find checo for you but cannot seem to sus him out anywhere. he takes you to meet his old karting rivals, george and alex and then finally decides to take you to the ferrari garage, where carlos and charles stand with an engineer, discussing something about exhausts or something.

“lando!” carlos cheers as he sees you both arrive in front of him. he kindly abandons whatever it is he’s supposed to be listening to, charles following suit. they hug then separate, lando’s hands immediately returning to you.

lando introduces you for the millionth time today as you repeat your actions of a tight smile and a sharp ‘nice to meet you’ , something everyone who you met today noticed. carlos couldn’t help being surprised at your actions, also thinking that you couldn’t be the girl he had heard about from his former teammate.

charles smiles kindly at you and asks how you have been finding today, to which you reply a little less sharply, your excitement seeping through. lando watches on in awe of you opening up to his friends.

after a while of chatting to the boys in red, andrea comes running over, shouting about something no one can quite make out.

“i’ve been searching for you lando!” he huffs as he pulls lando to the side to discuss, something to do with the strategy for the weekend. you take this time to jump on your phone and update your mother on your day, her knowing about how excited you were about today.

carlos looks to charles as he loudly whispers “what’s up with her man?”. he wasn’t far away from you, and it seemed like he wasn’t even trying to be slick with it.

“what? what do you mean?” charles questions, a little confused. carlos just huffs.

“i mean, she’s so grumpy. she seems like she would rather be anywhere but here and lando is just standing next to her with a stupid smile on his face.” carlos frowns, only concerned about his friend, but hurting you in the process. charles hums a reply, not entirely agreeing but not disagreeing either.

carlos’s words make you freeze though. you didn’t realise you were being grumpy? you were just being yourself, so did that mean you were grumpy all the time? your thoughts tornado around your head as the self-consciousness sinks into your veins. did lando think this too?

speaking of lando, he finishes his conversation with andrea and makes his way back to you with a smile, his smile seemed to be never-ending today. his hand links with yours as soon as he is close enough. you immediately smile, forcing your lips upward as you try your best to not be ‘grumpy’.

lando notices this but decides to leave it until you were alone. “hope you guys weren’t listening”. lando jokes. it was a bad joke. no one laughed. charles just stared at him, almost disappointed and carlos just shook his head.

lando frowns and says “alright we’re leaving” and pulls you away. you make sure to smile at the two ferrari boys and wish them good luck for tomorrow, not a trace of sarasm in your words, which confused lando even more. he looks at you quizzically but you ignore it.

somehow you end up back with at the hotel within the next hour, after spending a good few hours at the paddock.

“alright, what’s wrong?” lando asks, almost as soon as you are both in your hotel room. you don’t hesitate before you ask, “am i grumpy?”.

lando looks at you, his face laced with confusion. he opens his mouth to reply but closes it again. he takes his time to gather his words, not wanting to upset you more than what you clearly already were.

“you are grumpy,” he says “but that’s how you’ve been since we met, i’m sure you were like that before, from what will tells me”. your usual frown deepens.

“i didn’t know i was grumpy. how do you put up with me?” you ask, feeling embarrassed at your unknown behaviour.

lando lets the confusion deepen on his face. “how do i- how do i put up with you? i don’t put up with you, baby. you’re my girlfriend.” he says like it’s obvious.

“i do support you. i did want to be there today.” you feel the need to prove yourself to him. to prove carlos wrong.

“i know, you were so excited.” he replies, with a faint smile.

“your friends think i’m grumpy and unsupportive” you tell him, not wanting to expose his friends but feeling hurt by his words. lando looks upset at your words.

“who? who said that? i know you wanted to be there today, baby. just because other people don’t see you the way i do doesn’t mean you aren’t supportive.” lando slowly makes his way towards you, his hands slowly making their way up your arms.

it was weird seeing anything different to your usual expression on your face but he couldn’t help but feel he peeled back a layer of you. it made it him feel happy for a second. his eyes bore into yours, making you feel intimidated.

“i like knowing things about you no one else does. i like knowing how you’re feeling just by looking at you, who cares if everyone else thinks you are grumpy. just makes you my grumpy girl, doesn’t it?” he smiles, trying to cheer you up a little.

a smile graces your lips. mission acomplished, he thinks. he lets his hands gently hold the sides of your face as he lets himself take in your face, looking at it like he’ll never get the chance again. you feel your breath hitch as he moves closer.

lando smiled at the sound before he lets his lips press against you. it wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t passionate. it was reassuring. it told you everything was okay. he pulls away before you would like. you chase his lips as he laughs.

“you’re cute,” he says. “what do you say to an early night?”. you nod, the busy day and the unusual mix of emotions, exhausted you.

you both get unready next to each other, doing your nightly routines in sync. lando trying to make you laugh as you both brush your teeth in front of the bathroom mirror.

once you lay in the bed, wrapped up in him his words finally sink in. as long as you are both secure in your relationship, what does it matter if people think you’re grumpy. you’d never smile again if it meant lando would love you for the rest of your life.

....

l's radio: if this is bad pretend i didn't post it i cba to proof read, i'm too tired from getting up at 6 for the gp today :(

#lando norris #f1 imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine

962 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and saw that your requests were open so I thought I’d shoot this over. If you don’t vibe with it don’t worry about skipping it. I was wondering if I could request a James x reader where they are living together and definitely love each other but they’ve kind of slipped into a roommate phase. Like they’re just living around each other and reader starts feeling insecure and scared and doesn’t know how to get back into normalcy. Maybe a little angsty with some fluff at the end

Thanks lovely!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.4k words

When James comes in the front door, his shoes squelch. You look him up and down, dripping wet and mud caked up to his knees. You wince.

“Rough practice?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” James says, dropping his bag by the door and heading for the kitchen.

There’s an exhausted slump to his shoulders, and his shoes leave a muddy trail of footprints, and you hate to do it, but—

“Would you mind taking off your shoes?”

“Oh.” James looks down. You see him follow the trail with his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

You hate yourself as soon as it’s out of your mouth, because that’s exactly the sort of thing you’d say if it wasn’t fine. And yeah, you’re a bit peeved that he’d track mud inside after you’d mopped the floors just yesterday, but you know he wasn’t thinking about it and you’d promised yourself just this morning that you were going to be nicer to him and now he’s sitting on the floor looking like his day is getting worse instead of better.

You try again.

“Um, I made dinner.” You step over him awkwardly, setting a hand on his head to help yourself. James doesn’t shrink from the touch, but he doesn’t lean into it like you could swear he used to either. The stove turns off like it’s relieved to do it, having idled for close to a half hour while you waited for James to get home. You wanted to try and eat together tonight; you used to do it all the time, but lately you’ve been having too many couch dinners by your lonesome. “Macaroni and cheese, is that alright?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You jolt a little at James’ hand on your back as he reaches around you for a bowl, and he looks at you, lips quirking like you’re funny.

You find yourself smiling back by muscle memory, a reflex almost forgotten. It lifts your heart.

“So, how was practice?”

James glances up at you, then goes back to filling his bowl. “I’ve already told you,” he says. “Rough.”

“Oh, right.” You huff out a little laugh. He passes you the spoon, and you take it without really looking at him. “Sorry.”

His answering smile is weaker this time. More a press of his lips than anything.

“Don’t be.” He kisses you on the cheek, then goes, pulling out his chair at the table.

You take your seat, too. A lot of these base routines have begun to feel empty lately. They used to be an assurance for you, like if you always wore your same paths into the carpet you’d become so entrenched in this house, in James’ house, that neither he nor it could ever let you leave. You loved knowing that if he was back from his run when you woke up in the morning, there’d be a glass of orange juice waiting for you on the counter. That when the flowers on your kitchen table started to wilt you’d come home to a fresh bunch, and that if you called and told him you were having a bad day lunch from your favorite sandwich shop would miraculously show up at your work. Those things used to make your heart feel full to bursting, because they meant he was thinking of you.

Now you’re not sure what they mean. They seem like things James does because he’s supposed to, like part of a script, a routine. Chores.

As soon as he’s sat down, he’s digging into his dinner. James eats like a boy. Wolfing, like someone’s going to take it away from him. You hope it means he likes it.

“What’d you do today, m’love?” he asks through a mouthful.

And see, he says things like that. Calls you his love, asks about your day. It’s all started to fall flat. You know he’ll take whatever answer you give him, because you’ve begun to suspect he doesn’t really care.

“Nothing crazy,” you answer honestly. “Shayna’s baby came early, so I’m taking on a bit more at work until they can find someone to fill in for her. So that’s a bit stressful, but it’s not awful.”

“Mm.” James nods, but doesn’t offer more than that. His mouth seems to be perpetually full.

You fork a macaroni noodle, pretending you have more appetite than you do. Truthfully, you’ve felt weird and off and vaguely nauseous all day.

Last night had been a bit of a breaking point for you. It came on rather suddenly. You’d gone to bed long after James, but you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes from him, the way the moonlight snuck in through the slats in your blinds to fall across his sleeping face. He was so beautiful, and you loved him so much you didn’t know what to do with it all, and then you were crying.

You’d wept silently, wishing James would wake up, but you were unwilling to rouse him and he wasn’t going to do it himself. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep with your pillowcase damp and cold under your cheek and woke to find James’ side of the bed empty as usual. Orange juice on the counter.

“I was wondering if you might want to watch a film tonight,” you say lightly. “I saw they’ve put that sci-fi one you like back on Netflix.”

“Ah, have they really?” James swallows, forks another bite. “Wish I could, but I’m supposed to meet everyone at Spoons in a few minutes here.”

Oh. The realization hits you like a dull thud, smack in the center of your chest. He’s not eating quickly because he likes your food; it’s because he wants to leave.

“Can’t you stay here?” Your voice is small. James looks at you like he’s not sure what to make of it.

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He offers you a smile. His fork clinks in the bottom of an empty bowl, and his chair screeches as it’s pushed back. James brushes his lips across your cheek as he goes by. “We’ll have to do it this weekend, though, definitely.”

You know by now these sorts of promises aren’t meant to keep. They come written in disappearing ink.

He heads upstairs to change, and desperation grips you. It forgets he’ll be home later and puts you hot on his heels, your own dinner left on the table barely touched.

“Jamie, wait.” He pauses with his shirt half off, looking over at you in the doorway of your bedroom. “Don’t you feel like we’ve not had much time together lately?” you ask.

The plea is naked in your tone, and James’ eyes soften. He tugs his shirt off, straightens his glasses. “I haven’t had time for much of anything lately,” he says, shrugging good-naturedly.

It’s true. He’s been busy. His new coach seems to think the team has nothing but time, and as captain James is expected to commit even more than most. When he’s not at training, he’s keeping fit on his own or running errands for his mum or sleeping it all off in your bed.

“But you should come tonight,” James goes on brightly. “Dorcas and Marlene will be there, it’ll be fun.”

He tosses his clothes in the laundry bin and makes his way over to the dresser. You cross your arms, then uncross them. Parse your words. “I don’t…I just feel like you hung out with your friends last night, you know?”

“You could’ve come then, too,” he says, stepping into a pair of jeans. “They all love you, you know that.”

“I don’t want to hang out with your friends.” It comes out sharper than you intend, though not less sharp than the look James gives you. He’s finished getting dressed but doesn’t make to leave. “That’s not what I mean. I like your friends, but it’s not…the same as spending time with you. It doesn’t count, for me.” Your voice softens on the last two words, knowing that for James, it might very well count.

For him, you’ve gathered, social time is social time. So long as you’re there, he’ll feel just as connected to you as if you were curled up on the couch together having a private conversation. You wish your brain worked the same way, but it doesn’t.

He’s looking at you with something like trepidation now, so you state it plainly.

“I really miss you, Jamie.” A blockage rises in your throat. You swallow it back down. “I feel like…I don’t know what’s going on with us lately.”

“We’re the same as we have been.” He looks confused, worse when your face pinches painfully.

“And that’s all?” You try to blink them away, but tears burn in your eyes. “This is just what we do now?”

“No.” James looks appalled, but you catch the quick glance he gives to the digital clock on his nightstand. “It’s only for now, just until the season’s over and Coach mellows out. Where’s this coming from?”

You blink hard, angling your head away from him. “Nothing, sorry. I’m just being emotional.” Your breath scrapes on the way in. You pretend it doesn’t. “It’s okay if you have to go.”

He shakes his head, and when you start back towards the stairs anyway, he says, “No, come on.” In a few long strides, he’s got your elbow. He tugs you gently back into the room. “Let’s sit down, okay? What’s going on?”

“Sorry.” Your voice is pitchy and tight. You think you hear James inhale softly before he’s drawing you into a hug. It doesn’t feel quite like it used to, but it’s still warm, still nice.

He sits you both down on the edge of your bed, arms still wrapped loosely around you. “What are you sorry for, baby?”

“I was going to try not to make your life harder today,” you laugh wetly, pulling back from him to swipe under your eyes.

“You don’t make my life harder,” James says, somewhere near to dismayed as he slides his hand to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t.”

You give him a look meant to say, Oh, come on, but you’re not sure how it comes off with your face blotchy and snot starting to run from your nose. You take in a big breath, trying to calm yourself.

“I think I’ve made it harder more than I’ve made it easier lately,” you admit, looking at your bedcover and also at nothing at all. “I didn’t even really realize until recently, but I’ve just felt so…disconnected from you lately. It’s like even when you’re here, I’m just around you and not with you, and—” Your voice catches, and you inhale again. “And I know you’re really busy, but I’m just trying to find ways to fix it.”

James’ hand drops from your shoulder, into his lap, and you lift your gaze. He looks crestfallen. “What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly, his own voice starting to sound raw. “I can’t control these things. And we live together, I see you all the time. It doesn’t seem fair to ask me not to see my mates.”

“I’m not asking you to do that.” You’re horrified. “But that’s just it, Jamie, it’s like we only live together anymore. Saying hi when you come in, waving when you go back out, those don’t count as quality time for me. And I wish I could get the same feelings from being in a big group that you do, but I can’t.”

James looks at you helplessly. You shrug, just as powerless.

“I know it’s not your fault,” you tell him, and a tear drips off your chin. “I don’t know what to do, either. I just want you to know that I’m trying, okay?”

James nods for a minute. Thoughtful, heartbroken. He lets out a big breath. Your arms come around each other at almost the same time, so in sync you can’t be sure who reaches for the other first. You’re trying not to get snot on his fresh shirt, but he palms the back of your head, pressing your face to his shoulder.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “You’re right, we should both be trying more. I think I’ve let myself get so overwhelmed that I’m not…almost not even thinking throughout the day, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this by yourself.”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, and a little laugh rumbles through James’ chest. He hugs you tighter.

“It is a little bit, though, isn’t it? I haven’t been paying attention. But okay, let’s make a plan for now.” His hand splays out between your shoulder blades, and you clutch at the material of his shirt, both of you wordlessly trying to get closer as if you can make up for lost time. “Come with me tonight, please.” You go still, but James goes on, “I know it’s not a solution, but I can’t back out and I’d really feel so much better if you were there. Please, angel. And tomorrow, we’ll stay in and watch something. Not a film only I like,” he gives your back a teasing little squeeze, “but something we can both get into. Or we can just talk, or play a game, I don’t care. Tomorrow is our night, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, nodding and pulling away slightly so you can wipe your face. James joins in, pinching your nose clean for you and wiping the snot on his jeans carelessly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to clear my busy schedule.”

He smiles. It’s like the sun beaming through clouds. “I’d appreciate that. Really hard to get ahold of you these days.” You let out a little laugh, and his grin spreads. “Good, so that’s for now, and at training on Friday I’m going to talk to Coach about cutting down on our hours.”

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “Jamie, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he says. “I’ve been a wuss about it, but everyone on the team is miffed and it’s really my job to handle it. He doesn’t know everything yet, so I can at least give him some advice about how we operate best.”

James palms the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and meeting you halfway. His forehead presses against yours.

“I’m really glad you said something. Thanks for being the smart one, as usual.” Your smile is small at first, but James nudges his nose against yours until it blooms in full. “We’re gonna make it better, okay?”

You swallow thickly. “Okay. Thanks, Jamie.”

“Don’t thank me.” His voice takes on a tender quality, and you push your forehead into his. He palms your cheeks in response, stamping his lips to your forehead. “Love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too.”

That was never up for debate.

841 notes · View notes

yourfavblondy · 6 months

Text

How they would react if they saw you wearing their jacket

the tittle is pretty much self explanatory

characters: rindou haitani, mitsuya takashi, draken, mikey

RINDOU

It was cold outside and you like usual forgot your jacket at home. And oh how convenient it was when you saw Rindous jacket just laying around. While your boyfriend was talking to some people you swiftly grabbed his jacket and put it on. The jacket provided you with warmth and comfort, it smelled like Rin, intoxicatingly sweet. "Hey babe have you seen my-" Rindou asked turning around but stopping mid sentence when he saw you. He wanted to put on his jacket but how could he take it from you when you looked so damn cute. A light blush crept onto his face and the tips of his ears. One of the most scary people almost everyone feared was fumbling with his words and blushing profusely just because you wore his jacket. "Rin are you alright you kind of froze." you asked waving a hand infront of the blondes face. "Yeah, I'm fine you just look so damn cute." he chuckled wrapping his arms around you lovingly.

MIKEY

You constantly stole your boyfriends hoodies, I mean it was his fault really why did he have to have such comfortable and pretty hoodies. But despite always wearing his clothes you never wore his Toman jacket. At this point Mikey had gotten used to seeing you in his hoodies, I mean yeah sure butterflies always pooled in his stomach and yeah his heart skipped a beat now and again but he was used to it. What he wasn't used to however was seeing you in his Toman jacket, so you can imagine his shock when you showed up to a Toman meeting wearing his jacket. The words leader Mitsuya embroidered on the sleeve were on full display for everyone to see. Everyone knew you were his and if they didn't already now they knew for sure. Mikey shuffled closer towards you wrapping the jacket more around you. His face was dusted with a light pink blush but they didn't need to see that so he choose to bury his head in the crook of your neck wrapping his arms around you waist.

DRAKEN

You were with the gang at some random party Izana decided to host. Everyone was having a great time dancing and laughing, making out and drinking. You were also having a wonderful time singing at the top of your lungs. The alcohol you had drank earlier provided a nice kind of buzz to the already exiting atmosphere. For the party you decided on wearing a short black mini skirt a sparkly silver top and black heels. To Draken you looked out of this world. Everything matched up perfectly, the skirt showed of your ass which was probably Drakens favourite part of your body, he could just stare at you for eternity and never get tired. And thats exactly what he did he kept a watchfull eye on you the whole night just to make sure some creep woudldn't try anything. Once some creep did try to hit on you thinking you didn't have a boyfriend Draken came and politely led you out of the house. "Thanks babe." you said getting up on your tip toes to kiss you taller boyfriend. "I think this is like the fifth guy that hit one tonight." you said chuckling. "Well I can't blame them, you look stunning." Draken complimented nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. He left feather light kisses while wrapping his arms around your waist. "I know how we'll solve this." he let go off you and took off his jacket. "Here." he draped the jacket gently over your shoulders. He let go off you and took a step back. Immediately when he saw you wearing his jacket Draken melted. Such a strong and large man was like putty when it came to you. He was obviously much taller and bigger than you and the jacket which fit him perfectly was oversized on you. Rosy blush crept up on his face. "How do I look?" you asked twirling around nuzzling into the fabric. Draken felt his heart swell at the sight of you. "Better than ever." he stepped close and held your waist before placing sweet kiss to your lips. "Come on let's go inside." you grabbed his hand and led him back inside. Now everyone would know you're his, especially with the words VICE PRESIDENT embroidered on the sleeve.

MITSUYA TAKASHI

Mitsuya had sown a lot of pieces of clothing tailored just for you. He loved seeing you happy while wearing clothing he put so much work and effort into making just right, for you. Currently you were in a train with your boyfriend going on a date. You wore a beautiful jacket that he tailored, but it was a little too hot since the train was crowded. So not wanting to boil alive you opted to take your jacket off. As you were sitting down you layed it gently across your lap. You'll be getting off in two stops anyway so what could happen especially with Mitsuya sitting next to you. A lot apparently because one stop before you were supposed to get off someone ran by you and snatched your jacket. You quickly realised what had happened and tried running after him but it was too late. You looked sadly back at your boyfriend. "Hey, it's no big deal. I'll make you another one." he comforted you. "Yeah, thanks Mitsuya." you said leading him off of the train. As you made your way up the stairs and into the open street you suddenly realised how bloody cold you were. The cold air sent shivers down your spine, it chilled you to the bone. Mistuya noticed you lightly shaking before he, like a true gentleman that he is, took off his jacket and wrapped it snug around you. You glanced up at your boyfriend nuzzling further into the soft fabric. Mitsuya felt like he could explore with adoration. You looked so pretty, he truly didn't deserve you. Mitsuya wrapped his amrs around you holding you close. His cheeks were red but his heart was full of love.

#tokyo rev x reader #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #draken #ken ryuguji #ken ryuuguji x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers rindou #tokyo revengers draken #tokyo revengers mikey #mikey x reader #sano majiro x reader #manjiro sano #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo revengers x reader

1K notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 1 month

Note

Hiya! Do you think you could write something romantic and fluffy with Vil? I love him!

hi anon of course! I am so unwell about this man

summary: being friends with vil schoenheit has its perks type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, mentions of food, friends to lovers huhuhu, maybe a tiny bit suggestive but also not really? lap-sitting and kissing

Someone should write a guide on how to be friends with Vil Schoenheit.

It did not come as naturally to you as you would have hoped. There were times when he felt like a star in your presence, not the actor kind, but the heavenly body.

Bright, and burning, and millions of miles away. Even as he sat directly across from you.

"You're not eating," he remarks. The comment is not degrading, though it is tinged with curiosity. "Is it bad?"

You haven't even sampled the meal yet- something fancy and expensive that you likely couldn't pronounce. He'd ordered it for you.

"It's okay," you lie.

He either buys your excuse, or ignores it. Either way, he reaches across the gossamer table cloth and switches your plates without asking.

Vil Schoenheit Friendship Survival Manual, rule number one: always assume his judgment is correct, until proven otherwise.

You look down at the plate- some kind of vegetable dish. He urges you on with a nod, lilac eyes fixed firmly on your pleasantly surprised reaction when you take a bite.

Rule number two: his judgment is always correct.

"Better?" he asks, not bothering to finish your food. He'll likely get something else later. "You really shouldn't skip meals. If you were feeling unwell, you should have said so. I would've ordered something lighter for you."

"Sorry. Didn't think of it," you say, taking another bite of his meal, if only to appease him.

You're hesitant to mention that the heavy feeling in your chest wasn't from illness, and so you say nothing more.

"No need to apologize. Here,"

Vil delicately reaches across the table and dabs at the corner of your mouth with his napkin. You hate how light-headed such a simple action makes you feel.

"Better. And don't worry about smudging anything, I have a few new products I'd like to try out on you later,"

Rule number three: always accept his gifts.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You were starting to feel as if you really were ill, the way your entire body warmed in his presence. Vil brought out a feverish sort of stupidity in you that made outings like this a minefield to navigate.

How painfully cliché, you thought. Hopelessly in love with someone far out of your league, with infinite options, none of which you could even hope to catch up to...

It made these evenings together pure torture.

You felt guilty for wishing he wasn't such an amazing friend. Must he insist on showering you in gifts and holding your hand every time you cross the street?

But being in his bedroom is another, dirtier realm of guilt. Vil saw you as a friend. Platonic. Someone he confided in, who he took under his wing. You were allowed to see parts of him no one else had, and yet, you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying because you can't stop thinking about the way his lips look when he speaks.

"Did you understand any of that?" he asks, bending down to your level as you sit on his bed. On his bed. And you had the mind to be thinking about doing romantic things...

Rule number four: speak when spoken to.

"No, sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,"

Vil clicks his tongue and holds a hand to your forehead, feeling for temperature. "And you're sure you're not ill?"

"I'm fine! Just distracted,"

He chuckles, walking across the room to peruse his vanity. "Hm... and what sort of thoughts have got you scatterbrained today?"

You can feel your skin burning again. He could tell, couldn't he? All these weeks of coming undone every time he so much as looks your way couldn't have gone over his head... could they?

Or perhaps he was just used to people staring at him, stumbling over their words every time he spoke. Perhaps you were just another foolish fan who'd gotten to know him before falling in love.

You couldn't help but wish that there was someone or something that would just tell you what to do.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Vil sits beside you, a small, wooden box in hand.

"I'm supposed to promote these next weekend, but I'm not sure about them, yet," he says, opening the lid to reveal a plethora of lipsticks that likely cost more than your existence. "I'll need your opinion, of course."

"Right," you murmur.

"And I'd like to try them on you, as well,"

"Of course,"

"And you're alright with that?"

You nod. Ever the gentleman, always asking for permission. He's been quite generous with his products lately, giving them away to you like candy. You're almost certain he has a full list of your allergens somewhere.

Vil returns to the vanity, delicately prepping, and then applying the first shade. It's a marvelous, metallic pink, with dark red undertones that make it a regal color. It suits him, and you say as much.

"Oh, you think so? I suppose it does compliment my eyes, although I'd definitely need to pair it with something darker, else it become too overpowering..."

He clicks his tongue, and then turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Your turn. Come sit,"

There isn't another chair at the vanity, and you take that as your cue to awkwardly stand in front of him until he tells you what to do. He chuckles, amused by some thought of his that he doesn't share aloud.

"What are you standing there for? Sit,"

You awkwardly look around the space, eyes searching for a mysteriously hidden stool, something that should have been obvious...

He smiles. "Oh, don't be shy. We've known each other long enough by now, haven't we?"

You can't think of the right thing to ask, although your thoughts are quickly cut off by the sight of him gently patting his lap.

Sevens. If there were any time to wake up, this was it.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

He's not joking, of course. Vil hardly jokes. And so, you awkwardly straddle his lap, facing towards him, and allow him to get a good look at your visage.

He holds your chin firmly, studying your features as if he hasn't already seen them a thousand times before.

"Stay still,"

He's going to give you a heart attack, and there's a little quirk in his smile that tells you he knows it, too.

You wonder what your tag at the morgue will say. Death by Vil Schoenheit?

He starts with your skin, commenting on how soft it's gotten since he met you, then your eyes...

...Once he's satisfied, as he always is with his work, he turns your head so you can admire the makeup look in the mirror behind you.

"Stunning," he comments. "But you're missing something."

You look back, eyes wide. Surely, he hadn't forgotten something...? That's simply not in his nature.

He smiles at your confusion. "Remember? You promised to test these for me?"

Right. The lipstick. You nod. "Yes, but, I thought you'd already..."

"Oh, I do like the color. I'm just worried about this brand," Vil says. He looks away for a moment, almost as if to summon his courage... what a strange expression on him.

"What's wrong with the brand?"

He turns back with a small smirk. "They have a nasty reputation for smudging easily. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself next weekend, hm?"

His cups your chin again, bringing you closer.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him!

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"

You couldn't have shaken your head any faster, even with his grip on your chin.

"Good. Now, stay still. I think this will be a good color on you, anyway,"

He pulls you in with ease, letting his lips rest on yours for a second or two, before pulling back. Short but sweet, enough to make you feel like your entire body has gone numb.

He inspects your face, humming to himself...

"Good so far," he says, bringing you closer again. "But that was too safe. I won't hold back next time. Are you ready?"

You nod. Barely anything had happened, and you're already breathless. "Ready,"

Another smile crosses his perfect face, though he doesn't give you any time to admire it before he's kissing you again, one hand still cupping your face, the other holding the back of your neck and pressing you closer.

Definitely not a very platonic kiss.

It takes him longer to pull away this time, though when he does, it gives you a perfect view of his still-pristine makeup.

"Hmm... still nothing. I'm quite impressed with this line," he says, reaching behind you and returning with the wooden box. "How do you feel?"

Dizzy. Light-headed. Warm.

"Good," you say.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Or do.

"Not too much, I hope?"

A delightful realization was beginning to come over you, one that made all you had thought about him null and void:

No one else could possibly give you a guide on Vil Schoenheit, because he writes the rules himself.

"No. That was perfect,"

"Excellent," he smiles, and flips the box open again. "Because we still have six more colors to test."

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #GAH.

652 notes · View notes

theambitiouswoman · 10 months

Text

Do you really love yourself?

Many times in the past, I believed I was operating out of self-love. However, it was only when I began focusing on personal growth and engaging in shadow work and inner healing that I came to understand that my previous perception was not accurate.

Sometimes, we believe we're being kind to ourselves because we do things that feel good or seem helpful at first. We might do these things because we want to feel better or think they're good for us.

To become aware that something might not be truly self loving, we need to pay attention to how things make us feel in the long run. If something we're doing ends up making us feel unhappy, stressed, or even harms us over time, that's a sign that it might not be coming from genuine self love. So, it's important to regularly check in with our feelings and reflect on whether our actions are bringing us real and lasting happiness and well-being.

These are some examples you may relate to, where we might think we're operating out of self-love, but it may not truly be the case:

Self-Care:

Binge watching TV shows for hours, thinking it's self-care, but it leads to neglecting other responsibilities.

Regularly indulging in unhealthy foods as a form of self-care, but it negatively impacts physical well-being.

Spending excessive amounts on shopping to feel better momentarily, mistaking it for self-care, when it strains finances.

Oversleeping every day, believing it's self-care, but it disrupts daily routines and productivity.

Isolating yourself from others under the guise of self-care, but it can worsen feelings of loneliness.

Skipping regular exercise, thinking you're prioritizing relaxation, but it affects overall health in the long run.

Using substances like alcohol to cope with stress, thinking it's self-care, when it may lead to dependency.

Personality:

Constantly seeking validation from others to feel worthy, assuming it's part of your personality, but it indicates low self-esteem.

Always being the peacemaker in conflicts, believing it's your personality, but it might be suppressing your true feelings.

Refusing to ask for help in any situation, thinking it's part of your personality, but it can hinder growth.

Being overly competitive and comparing yourself to others, thinking it's just your personality, but it can lead to dissatisfaction.

Being excessively introverted to the point of avoiding social interactions, thinking it's part of your personality, but it may contribute to isolation.

Always putting others' needs before your own, assuming it's your personality, but it could be detrimental to your well-being.

Constantly seeking new experiences and never committing to anything, believing it's your personality, but it might hinder progress.

Career:

Overworking and not taking breaks, assuming it's necessary for career success, but it leads to burnout.

Staying in a job you hate because it's what you're used to, thinking it's for the sake of career stability, but it prevents growth.

Avoiding asking for promotions or raises, assuming it's humility, but it might hold you back professionally.

Pursuing a career path solely for financial gain, thinking it's practical, but it can result in dissatisfaction.

Accepting workplace mistreatment in the name of job commitment, thinking it's dedication, but it's detrimental to mental health.

Focusing solely on climbing the corporate ladder, believing it's the key to success, but it may lead to neglecting other important aspects of life.

Not pursuing opportunities for skill development, thinking it's contentment, but it can hinder career advancement.

Romantic Relationships:

Ignoring your own needs to constantly please your partner, believing it's love, but it leads to codependency.

Staying in a toxic relationship because you're afraid of being alone, thinking it's love, but it harms your well-being.

Sacrificing your own dreams and goals for your partner's aspirations, mistaking it for love, when it hinders personal growth.

Avoiding conflicts at all costs, assuming it's love for peace, but it prevents healthy communication.

Idealizing your partner and overlooking their flaws, thinking it's love, but it prevents realistic understanding.

Rushing into a new relationship immediately after a breakup, thinking it's moving on, but it might be avoiding emotions.

Disregarding your own values to align with your partner's, believing it's love, when it compromises your authenticity.

Friendships:

Going along with friends' decisions even when you disagree, assuming it's loyalty, but it might lead to resentment.

Pretending to enjoy activities you dislike to fit in, thinking it's maintaining friendships, but it's not authentic.

Ignoring your own needs to help friends excessively, believing it's friendship, when it impacts your own well-being.

Staying friends with people who consistently bring you down, thinking it's loyalty, but it negatively affects your self-esteem.

Avoiding confrontation with friends, assuming it's maintaining harmony, but it might lead to unresolved issues.

Letting others take advantage of your kindness, thinking it's friendship, when it's actually being taken for granted.

Faking interest in others' conversations to avoid feeling left out, thinking it's friendship, but it prevents genuine connections.

Personal Growth:

Staying in your comfort zone and avoiding challenges, thinking it's self-preservation, when it hinders progress.

Setting unrealistic goals for personal development, believing it's ambition, but it can lead to disappointment.

Constantly seeking external validation for your progress, assuming it's self-improvement, when it should come from within.

Overloading your schedule with self-help activities, thinking it's maximizing growth, but it might cause overwhelm.

Avoiding reflection on your mistakes and shortcomings, thinking it's self-compassion, when it prevents learning.

Perpetually focusing on your flaws without celebrating achievements, thinking it's humility, but it can lead to low self-esteem.

Ignoring your emotional needs in favor of pushing through challenges, assuming it's resilience, when it might hinder emotional well-being.

Physical Health:

Skipping Meals to Lose Weight: You might think that skipping meals will help you lose weight quickly, but it can lead to nutritional deficiencies and harm your body's energy levels.

Overexercising: Working out excessively with no rest can seem like a way to get fit, but it can lead to injuries, exhaustion, and even weakened immunity.

Crash Diets: Trying extreme diets that drastically cut out food groups might seem like a fast way to lose weight, but they often lack important nutrients and can be harmful to your body.

Ignoring Sleep: Prioritizing work or entertainment over sleep might seem productive, but sleep is crucial for your body to recover and function well.

Relying on Supplements Alone: Thinking that supplements can replace a balanced diet might seem convenient, but they're meant to complement, not replace, healthy eating.

Ignoring Pain: Believing that toughing it out through pain or discomfort is a sign of strength, but it's important to listen to your body and seek medical attention when needed.

Not Staying Hydrated: Forgetting to drink enough water might not seem like a big deal, but proper hydration is vital for many bodily functions and overall well-being.

#self love journey #self development #self esteem #self worth #self help #self improvement #self love #personal improvement #personal growth #personal development

2K notes · View notes

in-my-feels-probably · 6 days

Note

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone.

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway.

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet.

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled.

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life.

None of them mattered.

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile.

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence.

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels.

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way.

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars.

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye.

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score.

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop.

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips.

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard.

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you.

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail.

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like.

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better.

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen.

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door.

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting.

The feeling was mutual.

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child.

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest.

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

#challengers x reader #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #taylor swift #so high school #ttpd #the tortured poets department #the anthology

564 notes · View notes

shuagirl · 4 days

Text

SO WHAT? YOU'RE NOT MY BOYFRIEND. | C.S

pairings. choi seungcheol x fem!reader genres. smut [s] angst [a]

summary. your roommate ruins your date night and treats you with something better.

warnings. smut, unprotected sex, swearing, angst, jealousy, emotional confrontation, masturbation (Male and Female Receiving) clit stimulation, oral sex (Female Receiving) hair pulling, aftercare, dirty talk, overstimulation

( marvy ) yeahhh been a few weeks sorry been trying to catch up w some things... felt the need to write some simple cheol, smut ;) // OMG ITS NEARLY SUMMER FINALLYYY!!! hope you guys are okay and thank you for the reblogs and support <3

It was another late night at the office, the clock nearing midnight as the soft hum of computers and the occasional shuffle of papers filled the air. You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head and stifling a yawn. Across the room, Seungcheol was doing the same, his eyes meeting yours with a familiar glint. This had become your routine – working late into the night, side by side, before heading back to your shared apartment.

"Are you ready to call it a night?" Seungcheol asked, his voice breaking the silence.

You nodded, shutting down your computer. "Definitely. I think I’ve stared at this screen long enough to see the code in my sleep."

He chuckled, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "I know the feeling. Let's get out of here."

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the streets deserted and the air crisp. It was a short distance, just a few blocks, and the familiarity of the path made the silence comfortable. When you reached the apartment, Seungcheol unlocked the door and held it open for you, a small gesture that always made you smile.

Once inside, the routine continued. You dropped your bags by the door, kicked off your shoes, and headed to the kitchen. "Want something to drink?" you called over your shoulder.

"Sure, just water for me," he replied, disappearing into his room to change out of his work clothes.

You poured two glasses of water and settled onto the couch, waiting for him to return. Moments later, he emerged in his usual post-work attire – gray sweatpants and a plain T-shirt, looking effortlessly handsome. He joined you on the couch, taking his glass with a grateful nod.

"Long day," he said, taking a sip.

"Tell me about it," you replied, leaning back against the cushions. "I don't know how much longer I can keep up with these late nights."

He turned to you, a playful smirk on his lips. "You say that every night, and yet here we are."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Yeah, yeah. Don't remind me."

This was your life – a blend of work and personal time that blurred the lines between professional and intimate. Seungcheol was more than just a co-worker; he was your confidant, your roommate, and the one constant in your hectic life. The nights often ended like this, with the two of you sitting close, sharing quiet moments that hinted at something more.

It had started innocently enough, a mutual attraction that neither of you had acknowledged at first. But late nights at the office had a way of breaking down barriers, and before long, your relationship had shifted into something physical. There was an unspoken agreement between you – no strings attached, no complications, just a way to unwind after the stress of the day. And it worked, for the most part.

The routine was simple and comforting. After sharing a drink and some light conversation, the atmosphere would naturally shift. Seungcheol would give you that look, the one that made your heart skip a beat and sent a shiver down your spine. It was a look that promised escape from the day's stress and a dive into something much more exhilarating.

"Ready for bed?" he would ask, though the question always held a double meaning.

"Yeah," you’d reply, though the answer was never just about sleep.

You both moved with a practiced ease, the kind that comes from familiarity and mutual understanding. There were no awkward hesitations or second guesses – just a smooth transition from the living room to the bedroom. Seungcheol would wrap his arms around you from behind as you brushed your teeth, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a thrill through you. These moments of quiet intimacy were as much a part of your routine as the more passionate encounters that followed.

In the bedroom, the air would be thick with anticipation. Seungcheol had a way of looking at you that made you feel like the most important person in the world. He was attentive, always knowing exactly what you needed without you having to say a word. It was this unspoken connection that made your arrangement work so well. He understood you, and you understood him.

He would start slowly, his touch gentle yet firm, his kisses soft but growing more urgent as the moments passed. There was a rhythm to it, a dance that you both knew the steps to by heart. The way his hands roamed your body, the way he whispered your name – it was a routine that brought both of you immense comfort and satisfaction.

"You're so beautiful," he'd murmur against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

"And you're insufferable," you'd tease back, your breath hitching as his hands found their way to your most sensitive spots.

But beneath the teasing and the passion, there was a deeper connection. The routine was more than just physical release; it was a way for both of you to unwind and find solace in each other. The world outside could be chaotic and demanding, but in those moments, everything else faded away.

Afterwards, you would lie together in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, the post-coital glow making everything feel warm and safe. Seungcheol would hold you close, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin. It was in these quiet moments that you felt the most at peace.

"You should try to get some sleep," he'd whisper, his breath warm against your ear.

"I will," you'd reply, though you often found yourself staying awake a little longer, savoring the feeling of his body next to yours.

One morning, as you and Seungcheol were enjoying a lazy breakfast together, you decided to share some news that had been on your mind. It was your day off, and the apartment was filled with the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of the radio playing in the background. You had been chatting casually about work and plans for the day when you took a deep breath and decided to bring it up.

"Hey, Seungcheol," you started, trying to keep your tone light and casual, "I wanted to let you know that I’m bringing a friend over tonight. His name is Haru."

Seungcheol's reaction was subtle, but you noticed it immediately. His grip on his coffee mug tightened slightly, and there was a brief flash of something in his eyes – jealousy, perhaps? – before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression.

"Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "A friend, huh? What's the occasion?"

You shrugged, trying to hide your own nervousness. "Just thought it would be nice to hang out. Haru and I have been talking for a while, and I thought it would be good to introduce him to you."

There was a beat of silence as Seungcheol processed this information. He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes studying you over the rim of his mug. "I see. Well, it’s your place too. You can invite whoever you want."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. You had expected some sort of reaction from Seungcheol, but his indifference felt almost worse than outright disapproval. You couldn’t quite place it, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air now, a silent understanding that things might be changing.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity as you prepared for Haru’s visit. You spent hours cleaning the apartment, making sure everything was perfect. The kitchen was spotless, the living room was tidy, and you even put fresh sheets on the guest bed just in case. All the while, Seungcheol watched you with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

"You're really going all out for this guy, huh?" he remarked, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen as you bustled around.

"Well, I want to make a good impression," you replied, trying to sound casual. "It's important to me."

Seungcheol just nodded, his expression unreadable. "If you say so."

As the day wore on, your excitement grew, but so did your anxiety. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Seungcheol's reaction than he was letting on. You had always valued your relationship with him, but you also knew that things couldn't stay the same forever. Introducing someone new into your life felt like a step forward, but it also felt like a step away from the comfortable routine you had built with Seungcheol.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the apartment. You found yourself glancing at the clock more often than usual, your heart beating a little faster with each passing minute. You had spent so much time with Seungcheol, sharing laughs, secrets, and intimate moments, that the thought of changing that dynamic was both thrilling and terrifying.

Seungcheol, meanwhile, tried to focus on his own tasks. He moved around the apartment with an air of forced nonchalance, his usual confidence replaced with a slight edge of unease. He couldn't deny the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him, but he also didn't want to overstep any boundaries. You were free to see whoever you wanted, and he had no right to interfere. Still, the thought of you being with someone else made his chest tighten.

"Need any help with dinner?" Seungcheol offered, his voice breaking the silence that had settled between you.

You looked up from the vegetables you were chopping and smiled. "Sure, you can set the table."

As he busied himself with plates and cutlery, Seungcheol couldn't help but steal glances at you. There was a lightness in your step, a brightness in your eyes that he hadn't seen before. It was clear that you were genuinely excited about Haru's visit, and that realization made his heart ache just a little bit more.

"What's he like?" Seungcheol asked, trying to sound casual.

"Haru?" You paused, thinking about how to describe him. "He's sweet, funny, and really kind. We've been talking a lot, and I think there's something special between us."

Seungcheol nodded, forcing a smile. "That's great. I'm glad you're happy."

You sensed the underlying tension in his words but chose not to push it. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, preparing a meal that you hoped would impress Haru. As the aroma of cooking filled the apartment, you allowed yourself to relax, reminding yourself that this was a positive step forward.

By the time evening rolled around, everything was ready. The table was set, the food was prepared, and you had even taken the time to freshen up and change into something nice. As you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the evening ahead.

Just as you were about to head back to the living room, there was a knock at the door. Your heart leaped in your chest, and you quickly moved to answer it. Opening the door, you were greeted by Haru's warm smile.

"Hey," he said, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Come in."

Haru stepped inside, and you took a moment to admire him. He was tall and lean, with dark hair that fell slightly over his eyes and a charming, easygoing demeanor. He wore a casual outfit – jeans and a fitted shirt that showed off his athletic build. There was an air of confidence about him that put you at ease and made you feel excited about the evening ahead.

As you led Haru into the apartment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. You had worked hard to make everything perfect, and now it was time to see how the evening would unfold. You guided him to the living room, where the table was set, and the aroma of the dinner you had prepared filled the air.

"This looks fantastic," Haru said, glancing around appreciatively. "You really went all out."

You smiled, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction. "I just wanted to make sure you felt welcome."

Just as you were about to introduce him to Seungcheol, you heard the sound of a door opening behind you. Seungcheol stepped out of his room, wearing his usual post-work attire of gray sweatpants and no shirt. His appearance was casual, yet it held an undeniable magnetism.

His well-defined muscles, honed from hours at the gym, moved with an effortless grace. His broad shoulders and chiseled chest caught the light just right, casting shadows that emphasized his sculpted physique. But it was his face that truly captivated – a strong, chiseled jawline framed a mouth that could shift from a teasing smile to a serious line in an instant. His dark hair was tousled, giving him an endearingly roguish look, while his eyes, a piercing shade of deep brown, held an intensity that made it hard to look away.

There was a certain scent about him, a mix of clean soap and something distinctly his, that lingered in the air and made your heart race. As he moved, there was an air of confidence and quiet strength about him, yet a hint of vulnerability in the way his eyes flickered over to you, just for a moment, before settling on Haru.

Seungcheol stopped in his tracks, his gaze locking onto Haru and then drifting down to where your hands were still connected. The room seemed to freeze in that moment, an awkward silence enveloping you all.

"Hey," Seungcheol finally said, his voice low and rich, like a warm breeze. "I didn't realize we had company."

You quickly dropped Haru's hand, feeling a bit flustered. "Seungcheol, this is Haru. Haru, this is my roommate, Seungcheol."

Haru extended a hand, smiling politely. "Nice to meet you."

Seungcheol glanced at the outstretched hand, his eyes narrowing slightly. He made no move to take it, instead crossing his arms over his chest, his expression remaining cool and unreadable. "Likewise," he said, his gaze never leaving Haru's face.

There was a palpable tension in the air, and you couldn't quite understand why. Seungcheol's usual easygoing demeanor seemed to have been replaced by something more guarded and intense. You brushed it off, attributing it to the sudden change in routine.

"Why don't you join us for dinner?" you suggested, trying to ease the awkwardness.

Seungcheol glanced at the table, then back at you. "I was just going to grab a snack," he said, his tone casual. "But thanks for the offer."

Ignoring the lingering tension, you led Haru to the dining table and gestured for him to sit. As you brought out the food, Seungcheol moved to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge with an air of nonchalance that seemed almost too forced. He emerged with a bottle of water and a snack, then leaned against the counter, watching you and Haru with a look that you couldn't quite decipher.

"So, how did you two meet?" Seungcheol asked, his voice cutting through the quiet conversation you were having with Haru.

"We met through a mutual friend," Haru explained, smiling at you. "It’s been really nice getting to know Y/N."

"That's great," Seungcheol replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Y/N is pretty amazing."

The compliment, though genuine, felt loaded with unspoken words. You glanced at Seungcheol, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression was unreadable. You turned your attention back to Haru, determined to make the evening enjoyable despite the strange undercurrent of tension.

As the evening progressed, the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly strained. You and Haru settled into a comfortable rhythm, your conversation flowing easily despite the occasional pointed look from Seungcheol. Haru seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, and you found yourself relaxing more with each passing minute. The food was delicious, and the atmosphere should have been perfect, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Seungcheol was watching your every move with a scrutinizing gaze.

"So, Haru," Seungcheol interjected suddenly, his voice slicing through the lighthearted chatter with the precision of a well-aimed dagger. "What line of work keeps you occupied?"

Haru looked up, momentarily startled by the abrupt inquiry. "I'm a graphic designer," he replied, offering a polite smile. "I work at a small agency downtown."

"Fascinating," Seungcheol drawled, leaning back in his chair with a languid grace that belied the intensity of his gaze. "It must be quite rewarding to indulge in such creative endeavors. Y/N and I, alas, are consigned to the monotonous world of numbers and figures."

You shot Seungcheol a pointed look, silently beseeching him to temper his remarks. However, he merely quirked an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as if he were savoring the undercurrent of tension he had created.

"It has its moments," Haru conceded, his smile faltering ever so slightly under the weight of Seungcheol's scrutiny. "I do enjoy the creative challenges."

"Good for you," Seungcheol replied, his tone laced with a veneer of civility that did little to mask the sarcasm lurking beneath. "It's always heartening to hear of someone finding fulfillment in their work."

Sensing the rising tension, you endeavored to steer the conversation back to safer waters. "Haru, you were telling me about that fascinating project with the interactive website. Do go on."

Haru's face brightened at the change of topic, and he launched into an enthusiastic description of his latest project. You listened with genuine interest, but you couldn't ignore the way Seungcheol's eyes kept flickering back to you, his expression a perplexing blend of amusement and something darker.

As the evening wore on, Seungcheol's interruptions grew more frequent and increasingly pointed. He made snarky comments about the food, pointed out trivial inconsistencies in Haru's stories, and even "accidentally" bumped into you as he moved about the apartment. Each incident seemed designed to unnerve Haru, whose initial charm was gradually giving way to visible discomfort.

"Excuse me," Seungcheol said at one point, reaching across the table with a deliberate nonchalance that belied his true intent. He managed to knock over Haru's glass of water, sending a cascade of liquid across the table. "Oops. My apologies."

You quickly grabbed a towel to mop up the spill, your frustration simmering just below the surface. "It's fine," you said through clenched teeth, attempting to maintain your composure. "No harm done."

Haru forced a smile, but the strain was evident in his eyes. "It's okay," he murmured, though his voice lacked its earlier warmth.

Seungcheol's behavior was wearing on your nerves, and you couldn't fathom why he was acting this way. He had never been so openly antagonistic before, and it was starting to fray your patience. All you wanted was to enjoy your evening with Haru, but Seungcheol seemed hell-bent on making that impossible.

The final straw came when Seungcheol "accidentally" brushed against Haru's arm as he walked past, causing Haru to drop his fork with a loud clatter. The sound reverberated through the tense silence, amplifying the growing discord.

"Seriously?" you snapped, your eyes flashing with indignation as you glared at Seungcheol. "Can you please give us a moment's peace?"

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his expression one of feigned innocence. "I was merely getting a drink," he said, holding up his glass as if to underscore his point.

"Well, can you manage it without causing a scene?" you retorted, your frustration boiling over.

Haru placed a soothing hand on your arm, his touch gentle and calming. "It's okay, Y/N," he said softly, his eyes beseeching you to let it go. "Really, it's fine."

But it wasn't fine. You could see the hurt and confusion in Haru's eyes, and it only fueled your anger further. Seungcheol was ruining what should have been a pleasant evening, and you were at a loss to understand why.

The tension in the room had reached a palpable peak, a silent battle of wills between Seungcheol and Haru with you caught in the crossfire. The evening that you had hoped would be a pleasant introduction of new possibilities had turned into a minefield of unspoken emotions and escalating conflict.

Seungcheol's final act of sabotage came as the three of you attempted to settle down in the living room. You had just suggested watching a movie, hoping it might diffuse the tension, when Seungcheol abruptly stood up, his eyes glinting with barely concealed irritation.

"I don't think this is working out," he announced, his voice ringing with a finality that froze you in place. He turned to Haru, his expression hardening. "I think it's time for you to leave."

Haru's eyes widened in shock, his calm demeanor slipping as he struggled to process Seungcheol's blunt dismissal. "Excuse me?" he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"You heard me," Seungcheol replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "This isn't your place, and I think it's best if you leave now."

You felt a rush of anger and embarrassment flood your cheeks. "Seungcheol, what the hell are you doing?" you demanded, stepping between him and Haru. "You can't just kick him out like this!"

Seungcheol's eyes met yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "I'm doing what needs to be done," he said, his tone unyielding.

Haru stood up, his expression a mixture of hurt and frustration. "It's okay, Y/N," he said, his voice resigned. "I'll go. This isn't worth the trouble."

You turned to Haru, your heart sinking. "I'm so sorry, Haru. This is not how I wanted tonight to go."

Haru managed a small, sad smile. "It's not your fault," he said softly. "I'll call you later."

As Haru gathered his things and headed for the door, you felt a pang of guilt and regret. This was supposed to be a simple, pleasant evening, and now it was ending in disaster. Once the door closed behind Haru, the silence in the apartment was deafening.

You turned to Seungcheol, your anger boiling over. "What the hell was that for?" you shouted, your voice shaking with fury. "You just ruined my date! Why would you do that?"

Seungcheol's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and something else you couldn't quite place. "He wasn't right for you," he said flatly.

"That's not for you to decide!" you shot back, your frustration reaching a breaking point. "You had no right to interfere like that. Haru is a good guy, and you just humiliated him for no reason!"

Seungcheol took a step closer, his presence towering over you. "I couldn't just stand by and watch you pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn't," he said, his voice low and intense. "You deserve better than some guy who doesn't even know you."

"Better?" you echoed, incredulous. "And who are you to say what I deserve? You've made it very clear that our...whatever this is...doesn't mean anything beyond a few nights of fun. You don't get to dictate who I see or don't see."

Seungcheol's eyes darkened, his frustration matching your own. "Is that what you think?" he demanded, his voice rough with emotion. "That this doesn't mean anything to me?"

You crossed your arms, trying to shield yourself from the vulnerability his words evoked. "What else am I supposed to think? You keep things casual, no strings attached. That's what we agreed on."

"And maybe I was wrong," Seungcheol said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. "Maybe I want more than that. Maybe I want you."

The words hung in the air between you, a raw and unfiltered confession that left you reeling. You searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he was playing with you, but all you saw was sincerity and a depth of emotion that took your breath away.

The silence following Seungcheol's confession was thick with tension, each second stretching like an eternity. You stood there, heart pounding, grappling with the raw honesty of his words. The anger that had fueled your argument moments ago was now mingled with confusion and a flicker of something unnamed and unsettling.

"Y/N," Seungcheol began, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I mean it. I want you."

You opened your mouth to respond, to argue, but before you could utter a single word, Seungcheol closed the distance between you. His hands cupped your face with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his emotions, and then his lips were on yours, silencing your protests in an instant.

The kiss was both unexpected and overwhelming. Seungcheol's lips were warm and insistent, moving against yours with a fervor that took your breath away. For a moment, you were lost in the sensation, the world narrowing to the points where your bodies connected. His kiss was demanding yet tender, a blend of passion and desperation that made your heart race.

But just as quickly, the reality of the situation crashed back over you. You pulled away, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "No," you said, shaking your head as if to clear it. "You don't get to do that."

Seungcheol's eyes searched yours, a mix of confusion and hurt flashing across his face. "Y/N, I—"

"No," you interrupted, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and frustration. "You can't just kiss me and expect everything to be okay. You don't get to treat me like some casual hookup and then suddenly decide you want more. It doesn't work like that."

Seungcheol took a step back, his hands dropping to his sides. "That's not what I'm doing," he said, his voice low but steady. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive gesture. "Because all you've ever wanted from me is something casual. And now, after ruining my date, you think you can just change the rules?"

"Y/N, please," Seungcheol pleaded, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache. "Just listen to me."

You hesitated, the sincerity in his voice giving you pause. "Fine," you said, your tone still guarded. "I'm listening."

Seungcheol took a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts. "I know I've been an idiot," he began, his voice steady but tinged with regret. "I've been hiding how I really feel because I was scared. Scared of messing things up between us, scared of losing you if it didn't work out."

You frowned, your anger slowly giving way to confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how much you mean to me," Seungcheol said, taking a step closer. "I'm talking about how I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else because it makes me realize just how much I care about you. This isn't just some fling for me, Y/N. It never was."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw honesty in his expression. It was a side of Seungcheol you hadn't seen before, and it left you reeling.

"But you never said anything," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "You never gave me any indication that you felt this way."

"I know," Seungcheol admitted, his voice thick with regret. "And I'm sorry for that. I thought I could keep things casual, that it would be easier that way. But seeing you with Haru... it made me realize that I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend that what we have doesn't mean everything to me."

You stared at him, your mind racing as you tried to process everything he was saying. The anger that had fueled your argument was slowly giving way to a deeper, more complex mix of emotions. Part of you wanted to believe him, to take the leap and see where it could lead. But another part of you was still hurt, still wary of getting your heart broken.

The silence hung heavy between you, laden with the weight of unspoken words and the raw, intense emotions that Seungcheol’s confession had unearthed. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw vulnerability that he rarely showed. And in that moment, your resolve began to waver.

“Seungcheol,” you began, your voice trembling, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he replied, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering. “Just let me show you how I feel.”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both fervent and tender. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you against him, and you felt your body respond to his touch, the anger and confusion melting away, replaced by a burning desire.

His kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against yours with a sensuality that made your knees weak. You clung to him, your hands tangling in his hair as you surrendered to the intensity of the moment. Seungcheol’s hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire in your veins.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I need you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing. “I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

You nodded, unable to find your voice. He took your hand, leading you to the bedroom, each step filled with anticipation and unspoken promises. Once inside, he turned to you, his gaze smoldering.

“Undress for me,” he commanded softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

With trembling hands, you complied, shedding your clothes until you stood bare before him. Seungcheol’s eyes roamed over your body, his expression one of awe and desire. He stepped closer, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

You nodded again, your breath hitching as his hands trailed down your body, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He knelt before you, his eyes locking onto yours as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

The sensation was electric, and you felt a surge of arousal as his mouth moved closer to your core. He parted your folds with his fingers, his tongue flicking over your clit with a skill that made you gasp. Seungcheol’s hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he devoured you, his tongue and lips working in tandem to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

“Oh, God, Seungcheol,” you moaned, your hands fisting in his hair as your hips bucked against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

He hummed in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you. His tongue circled your clit, teasing and tormenting you until you were trembling with need. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that sweet spot, and you cried out, your body arching towards him.

Seungcheol didn’t relent, his mouth and fingers working together to drive you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building, a coil tightening in your belly, and then it snapped, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you as you came, your cries echoing in the room.

He didn’t stop, his movements gentle as he coaxed you through the aftershocks, his eyes never leaving your face. When you finally came down, he stood, his fingers trailing your slick arousal up to your lips.

“Open,” he instructed, and you obeyed, taking his fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. The look of pure desire in his eyes made your pulse quicken, and you sucked his fingers clean, reveling in the way he watched you.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice a low rumble. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. You could taste yourself on his lips, the mingling of flavors heightening your arousal once more.

Seungcheol broke the kiss, his hands moving to undo his pants. “Lie down,” he instructed, and you did, stretching out on the bed, your body still humming with the remnants of your orgasm.

He shed his clothes quickly, his erection standing proud as he joined you on the bed. He knelt between your legs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you spread out before him. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promised, his voice thick with need.

He took his cock in hand, stroking it slowly as he watched you. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, and you complied, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles as you watched him.

Seungcheol groaned, his hand moving faster on his cock as he watched you pleasure yourself. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “Make yourself come for me.”

You bit your lip, your fingers moving faster, the combination of his gaze and the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. “Seungcheol,” you moaned, your body tensing as you felt your orgasm building once more.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “Come for me, Y/N.”

His words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a cry, your body trembling with the force of your release. Seungcheol watched you, his hand moving faster on his cock as he brought himself to the brink.

He leaned over you, his eyes burning with need. “I need to be inside you,” he said, his voice a raw whisper. “I need to feel you.”

You nodded, spreading your legs wider in invitation. Seungcheol positioned himself at your entrance, his cock slick with your arousal. He pushed in slowly, the sensation of him filling you making you gasp.

He set a slow, steady pace, each thrust deep and deliberate. The pleasure built with each movement, the intensity of the connection between you making your head spin. Seungcheol’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice a soft command. “I want to see you.”

You locked eyes with him, the depth of emotion in his gaze taking your breath away. The rhythm of his thrusts increased, the pleasure building to a fever pitch. He reached down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts.

The combination was too much, and you felt yourself hurtling towards another orgasm, the intensity overwhelming. “Seungcheol,” you gasped, your body arching towards him.

“Come for me,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless. Seungcheol followed you, his release spilling into you as he groaned your name, the sensation of him filling you only heightening your pleasure.

He collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. You turned to him, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your release. He pulled you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his hand smoothing over your hair.

You nodded, your heart full. “I’m more than okay,” you replied, your voice a whisper. “I’m perfect.”

Seungcheol smiled, his eyes warm with affection. “Good,” he said, pulling you even closer. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

The promise in his words wrapped around you, a comforting reassurance of the depth of his feelings. In that moment, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. And that was all you needed.

The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You stirred, nestled in the warmth of Seungcheol’s embrace, his arm draped protectively around your waist. For a moment, you lay still, savoring the tranquility of the morning, the quiet intimacy that enveloped you both.

Seungcheol shifted beside you, his eyes fluttering open. A slow smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of you in his arms. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

"Good morning," you replied, your own smile matching his.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "How did you sleep?" he asked, his lips trailing soft kisses down your temple and along your cheek.

"Better than I have in a long time," you admitted, feeling a warmth spread through you at his affectionate gestures.

Seungcheol’s kisses continued, each one a tender promise of his feelings. He moved to your other cheek, then your nose, then your chin, covering your face with a constellation of soft, loving kisses. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sensation, your heart swelling with affection for the man beside you.

"Seungcheol," you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair as he nuzzled against your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

"Hmm?" he hummed, his lips moving to your jawline.

"This is nice," you said, your voice soft. "I could get used to waking up like this."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that made your breath catch. "So could I," he replied, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you softly on the lips.

Just as you were losing yourself in the sweetness of the moment, a familiar sound interrupted the tranquility. The door creaked open, and you felt a rush of fur and energy as Kkuma, Seungcheol’s dog, bounded into the room.

"Kkuma!" Seungcheol exclaimed with a laugh, sitting up as the dog jumped onto the bed, tail wagging furiously.

Kkuma wasted no time, planting herself between the two of you and showering Seungcheol with enthusiastic licks. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the dog’s antics bringing a lightness to the room.

"Kkuma, stop," Seungcheol said, though his laughter belied any real annoyance. He scratched behind the dog’s ears, giving her the attention she so eagerly sought. "You’re interrupting a very important moment, you know."

You smiled, reaching out to pet Kkuma as well. "I think she’s just making sure we’re both awake," you said, your heart full as you watched the playful interaction between Seungcheol and his beloved pet.

Kkuma’s presence had an undeniable way of lightening the mood, her joyful energy infectious. She turned her attention to you, her eyes bright with curiosity. You scratched her behind the ears, earning a contented sigh as she settled down between you and Seungcheol.

The three of you lay there for a while, enjoying the peaceful morning.

"Y/N," Seungcheol said softly, his hand finding yours under the covers. "About last night..."

You turned to him, your heart skipping a beat at the seriousness in his tone. "Yes?"

"I meant everything I said," he continued, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I want to be with you. For real. No more pretending, no more keeping things casual."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the sincerity in his eyes nearly overwhelming. "I want that too, Seungcheol," you whispered, squeezing his hand. "I want to be with you."

He smiled, a look of pure relief and happiness washing over his face. "Then let’s do it," he said, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with a gentle, lingering sweetness that left no doubt about his feelings.

Kkuma, not to be left out, nudged her way between you once more, her tail thumping against the bed as she demanded attention. You both laughed, the moment made all the more perfect by her playful interruption.

As the morning sun continued to rise, you and Seungcheol talked about your future, about the possibilities that lay ahead. There was a sense of hope and excitement, a feeling that together, you could face whatever came your way.

904 notes · View notes

xxsunoosprincess · 8 days

Note

Hi! How are you doing? I love your writing btw, you’re definitely one of my favourite writers 🙈

I don’t know if anyone has asked this yet, but enha legal line + aftercare?? What they’d do, how they’d act kind of thing? Maybe even how they’d like to be taken care of? It’s perfectly okay if you don’t want to do this ��

hi hi!! I’m a little sick rn but doing good because I’m finally done with school >:3 also u make me blush sweet anon… I’m glad my stuff makes you happy!! sorry it took a minute to get around to this but I’m indulging in some softer stuff while I sniffle away in bed :,) thanks for the request!!

Enhypen and Aftercare (OT6)

pairings: Enhypen legal line x reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, mentions of sex but not pure smut, fem bodied!reader

Heeseung

His face contorts into an expression halfway between pain and pleasure as he slow lying inches his sensitive length out of you, a breathless “hahh” escaping him as he shivers, collapsing onto you. It pulls an unexpected grunt out of you, followed by a series of giggles as he borrows into your neck, huffs of hot air tickling your sensitive skin.

“What the fuck” he whines out. You feel his hands squeeze your hips “your pussy is crazy”. The seriousness in his voice has you caught between a belly laugh and a faux scandalized gasp, swatting his ass gently as you scold him for such crude words. “I’m serious! You. Your body. You’re just perfect…” small pecks between each word, sleepy yawns, and a dopey heeseung clinging to you like a koala. Has fallen into the routine of fucking you before bed, claims it’s “the only way I can sleep now. Need you so bad”, and it might just be true because you can already feel the gentle vibrations of his snores against your collarbone.

Jay

Don’t play rn Jay is literally the embodiment of doting aftercare. The routine is locked and mf loaded. After he bullies your cunt until it’s sore and you are sure you can’t walk, this pillow talk starts. This part is just as much for you as it is for him, because he doesn’t think he could walk right now either. Promises of a future together, a catch-up on how your days have been, chats about if you liked the newest thing he introduced to your romp in the sheets. Just hearing your sweet voice cut through the quiet of night is enough to reground him (plus, he really does care about what you have to say).

I think he’s a little lazy with clean up, keeps a pack of wet wipes at the bedside table to give you both a once over, makes a half-promise to shower with you in the morning, and then rolls over to spoon you, peppering light kisses down your neck as your naked bodies intertwine to watch an episode of your guys’ favorite tv show. To Jay, aftercare is just as intimate as the actual sex. Unintentionally romantic in every way.

Jake

He’s the one that needs the most extensive aftercare, and come on, doesn’t he deserve it? He will eat you out for hours until you are kicking and squealing and prying him away by his hair. He will fuck into you from behind like it’s his sole purpose on his earth. And when all is said and done, he can hardly talk, slipping between English and Korean as he mumbles out a mix of curses and “so good, princess, so good”.

We wants you to play with his hair, curling up into your chest and peppering light kisses across your skin. He won’t admit how his heart skips a beat when you coo out a soft “good boy” to him, instead, he playfully bites you in retaliation. He won’t say anything about it, though. He loves the extra soft treatment, it’s like a reward for pushing himself to his limits to make you feel good.

Sunghoon

He’s such an angel. He’s sweeping you up in his arms to carry you to the bathroom. It doesn’t matter how big you are, he insists on carrying you because you are his baby (“you know, I don’t lift all those weights for nothing” cue the cheesy flexing). Lets you soak in the shower for a bit while he changes the sheets and prepares pajamas for you. Big believer in actions speak louder than words.

“Was I too rough on you today?” he pouts, slipping into the shower after finishing his post-coital rounds and eyeing the redness that has stuck around on the meat of your ass. No amount of reassurance of you liking it will erase the worried expression, eyebrows drawn together and lips pressed into a thin line. The only thing that makes him stop, makes him burst out into laughter and splash water at you, is the promise you make to spank him next time around.

Sunoo

I’m sorry but he is definitely crying afterwards. Y’all know I’m not on the babygirl Sunoo agenda all the time, but this is something I’m absolutely positive about. He’s just so overwhelmed with emotion, so happy that you trust him to see you in such a vulnerable state, so happy to be with you, so in love with you, the tears are forming in his eyes the moment he watches you reach your finish underneath him. “My pretty girl” sniffle sniffle “you’re so- fuck- so gorgeous”. Doesn’t matter how long you have been together, there is about a 50% chance of tears every time you guys fuck.

He tends to get embarrassed about crying like that so please give him lots of reassurance :(. Gets a little shy and whiny at vocalized praise, but loves gentle back rubs and showers together. Let him wash and dry you, he likes to feel like he is taking care of you just as much as you take care of him <3.

Jungwon

I’m sorry he’s so silly and sweet after. Needs to make you laugh after an intense moment. Eases his mind to see you so happy after being so vulnerable (firm believer in the wonie softie agenda). Still naked as the day he was born as he playfully wrestles with you in the sheets. He’s right next to your ear, letting our exaggerated high-pitches moans and squeals of “wonnie harder!”. He giggles at your indignant protests, reassuring you that he loves how you can’t get enough of your “very hot and sexy boyfriend”.

He seems like the type that needs to be constantly moving, fetching you towels and water and hand feeding you snacks. “Anything for you, babycakes”. Cheesy ass grin while calling you corny pet names in a teasing voice, dodging the pillow you launch his way.

END.

a/n: reminder that requests are open. I have some to work through and might not do all requests I get, but I love hearing from y’all :3 also this isn’t proofread, just like every thing else 😭 xx - princess

525 notes · View notes

theodorenmyth · 15 days

Text

Jealousy Unveiled

Pairings : Theodore Nott x GN! Reader Summary : He found Cormac flirting with you. A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : Jealousy, Cormac Mclaggen Word count : 777

Theodore Nott had always been a man of few words, a quiet strength that you found endearing. Your relationship—or rather, situationship—was defined by unspoken rules and lingering glances, an understanding that didn’t require labels. It was comfortable, for the most part, until someone else tried to wedge their way into your dynamic.

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter of students, forks clinking against plates, and the occasional burst of laughter. You were sitting at the Slytherin table, enjoying your breakfast, when Cormac McLaggen, with his ever-present self-assured grin, sauntered over. “Good morning,” he greeted, sliding into the seat beside you. “Mind if I join you?”

You glanced up, slightly surprised, but offered a polite smile. “Sure, why not?” Cormac’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “You know, I’ve always thought you had the most captivating smile in all of Hogwarts. It’s a wonder I don’t see it more often.”

You chuckled, feeling a bit flustered. “Thanks, Cormac. That’s sweet of you to say.” He leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone. “You know, there’s a Hogsmeade trip coming up. I was thinking maybe you’d like to join me? We could get a butterbeer or two, maybe even check out some of the shops.”

Before you could respond, a shadow loomed over the table. Theodore Nott stood there, his expression unreadable but his presence unmistakably intense. His eyes flicked to Cormac, then to you, and back to Cormac.

“Is there a problem here?” Theo’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made your heart skip a beat.

Cormac raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering for a moment. “No problem at all, Nott. Just having a friendly chat.”

Theo’s gaze hardened, and he moved to sit on your other side, effectively boxing you in between him and Cormac. “Funny, it didn’t look all that friendly to me.”

You could feel the tension rising, and you placed a hand on Theo’s arm, hoping to diffuse the situation. “It’s okay, Theo. We were just talking.”

Theo’s eyes softened slightly when he looked at you, but the protective glint didn’t leave. “Just talking, huh? Well, I think Cormac was about to leave, weren’t you, McLaggen?”

Cormac’s smirk returned, though it seemed a bit forced. “Actually, I was just about to ask—”

Theo cut him off, his voice dangerously low. “I think you’ve asked enough.”

Cormac stood up, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Alright, alright. No need to get territorial, Nott. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

As he walked away, you turned to Theo, raising an eyebrow. “Territorial much?”

Theo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his protectiveness. “Jealous, are we?”

He huffed, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Maybe a little. Can you blame me?”

You shook your head, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Not at all. But you don’t have to worry, Theo. I’m not interested in Cormac.”

His eyes searched yours, and he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to hex him.”

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, a hint of a grin forming. “But I’m your kind of ridiculous.”

You leaned into him, the familiar scent of his cologne calming you. “Yes, you are.”

Theo leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss. The Great Hall seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless and smiling.

"Come on," Theo said, his hand slipping into yours. "Let’s get out of here. We’ve got a lot to talk about."

As you walked hand in hand out of the Great Hall, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. No more secrets, no more stolen glances. It was just you and Theo, ready to face whatever came your way together.

In the days that followed, the change in your relationship was evident to everyone. You and Theo were inseparable, his arm often draped possessively around your shoulders, his eyes filled with a protective warmth whenever anyone dared to approach you. Even Cormac seemed to get the message, keeping his distance and focusing his attentions elsewhere.

For the first time in a long while, you felt truly content. And as you sat with Theo by the Black Lake, his fingers entwined with yours, you knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful.

572 notes · View notes

serpentandlily · 9 months

Text

Untouchable II - 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 middle 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

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

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

a/n: Thank you all so much for all the love on the first part of this story! If you want to be added to the tag list, either comment or message or send me an ask :)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part II

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The minute you guys winnowed into the foyer of the River House, you were nearly tackled to the ground by your own brother. He spun you in a circle, greeting you as if you’d just come back from a war or something. You couldn’t help but giggle at his huge overreaction.

“You act like I’ve been gone for years,” you laughed.

“It felt like it,” he replied, giving you what you assumed was his best impression of a sad puppy dog—an odd sight to see on such a powerful High Lord.

He had barely set you down when you were scooped up into someone else’s arms. Luckily Cassian wasn’t as dramatic as your brother. He pulled away to hold you at arm's length, taking a sweeping glance down your body.

“You’ve lost some muscle mass and what is this you’re wearing,” he chided in a teasing, affectionate tone. “Are you even still part of the night court, y/n?”

A scoff sounded from behind the General and you peeked over his shoulder to see Azriel standing there, his arms crossed. “She’s only been gone for three months.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him and you quickly pulled your eyes away, ignoring the strain in your chest. You jokingly shoved Cassian away from you. “I’m gone for three months and the first thing you say to me is that I’ve lost muscle? Can take the boy out of Illyria but not Illyria out of the boy.”

“Damn right,” Cassian said proudly as you stepped around him, finding the rest of your family lounging about in the sitting room. “Besides, do my letters to you not count as talking?”

You rolled your eyes before giving Azriel a smile. He dipped his head in greeting, his eyes trailing over your form, but made no move to embrace you like the other two.

“You wrote letters to Cass and Rhys,” he said. “But not to me? I thought I was your favorite.”

“Rhys demanded I write to him. And Cass wrote to me first.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

A muscle ticked in his jaw when he met your eyes again but he said nothing else so you brushed past him, squeezing him on the shoulder as you did, determined to not let his presence squander the confidence you had built up these past months.

As soon as you stepped into the sitting room, a baby was pushed into your arms. You smiled at Feyre, pressing a kiss to her cheek in greeting and happily accepting to hold Nyx, your nephew. “It’s good to see you, y/n. Being on the continent has done you wonders. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, I’ve been immensely enjoying my time there. But I missed you too, Fey,” you replied with a wink before hoisting the baby further up in your arms to snuggle against his head. “And Gods, I missed you, little one.”

“He missed you too, you know.” You looked up at Rhys who was leaning against the back of the chair Feyre had plopped down in. “You’re the only one who knows how to make him laugh when he’s in one of his moods.”

You saw his words for what they truly were - ammunition. A way to guilt you to stay. The sad part was it kind of worked. If there was anyone you’d drop everything for, it was your nephew. “I think you guys did just fine without me.”

“Some of us did,” Amren piped up. “Others wouldn’t shut up about you. ‘What do you think y/n is doing right now?’ ‘When do you think she is going to come home?’ ‘Send me to the continent to check on y/n.’” She mocked, glaring at your brother. But then her glare shifted to the shadowsinger who gave her an unamused look. Your cheeks turned pink. Had she been including Azriel in that…

“I’m glad you’re finally spreading those wings, girl. It’s about time,” Amren continued, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Anyways,” Mor cut in. “Are you going to tell us what is so important that you dragged me and your sister back for?”

“I will, during our family dinner,” Rhys said. “We’re still waiting for Lucien.”

You couldn’t help but glance at Elain, who looked just about as uncomfortable as you did. It wasn’t that you specifically had anything against the fox. But he had been the close companion of the male who was the reason your mother was dead, the reason you had almost lost your wings and your life that fateful night. It made it hard to be around him without thinking of Tamlin, which brought back those painful memories.

Conversation turned normal after that and you tried to keep your eyes away from the shadowsinger. Instead you listened to Cassian and Nesta talk about the improvements the Valkyries had made in the three months you were gone. You promised Cass that you’d go to training with them tomorrow morning.

Lucien finally showed up and the small party was moved to the dining room. You took a seat next to Cassian and your heart nearly froze as you watched the redhead enter and make his way towards the empty chair next to you. You clenched your skirt in your fist but before he could take it, Azriel cut in front of him and claimed the chair as his.

You gave him a small, grateful smile. He nodded and you turned away as Elain sat down next to him. Great. Perfect. Now you’d have to listen to them all night. Perhaps the fox would’ve been a better choice.

Dinner was served and you poked at your food. Your proximity to the shadowsinger made your appetite minimal. You leaned your head against Cass’s shoulder, taking comfort in him. Cassian had always felt like a second big brother to you. And he treated you as such.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured to you, stacking more food on your plate. “You’ve got to eat if you’re going to come train with us tomorrow.”

Nesta rolled her eyes from next to him and you covered your grin. You were about to reply when Rhys stood. The room quieted when he cleared his throat. “Feyre and I have invited you here tonight for a reason. Would you like to do the honors, darling?” He tilted his head to her and she stood, smiling.

You couldn’t help but melt at the sight of your brother and his mate. You were so happy he finally had the life he deserved. Feyre placed her tattooed hand on her stomach and your eyes widened, a gasp escaping your mouth as you realized what this announcement was.

“I’m pregnant again,” she said, pure happiness in her voice. “With a little baby girl.”

Cheers and shouts erupted around the room but you were the first to jump up and hug Feyre. You couldn’t stop smiling as you let her go to be embraced by the others, taking your brother in your arms instead.

“Congratulations,” you whispered in his ear. “I’m so happy for you, Rhysie.”

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered back. “Another baby. In less than two years.”

You felt claws scrape against your mental shield.

We’re going to name her after mother. We’ve already discussed it.

You pulled back with shock, looking up into his eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. Tears lined his eyes as he nodded at you. A small cry broke from your lip as you hugged him again. When you finally composed yourself, you let him go so the others could have their turn with him. You stood off to the side, wiping your tears.

You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the male who fell into place next to you. “Are you alright?”

You looked up at Azriel who was watching you with concern in those beautiful hazel eyes. You nodded, clearing your throat. “They’re going to name her after our mother. After Selene.”

Azriel’s eyes widened and then he glanced at your brother, a small smile on his lips. You know how much Azriel and Cassian had loved your mother too. Had felt the loss of her all the same. You sucked in a breath and wiped away any lingering tears.

Azriel looked back down at you, his eyes searching your face. Part of you wanted to use your daemati gifts, to take a peek inside his head, to see what he was thinking. But you would never cross that line.

“You’ve got make-up,” he said, gesturing towards your face. “Here.”

You went to wipe it but he grabbed your hand. “Let me.”

He conjured a cloth napkin in his hand and gripped your chin with his other gloved hand, tilting your face up at him. Your eyes widened at his touch and you froze in place, your breath caught in your throat. He dapped at a spot on your check, just below your eye.

You hated the effect he had on you. How his scent wrapped around you, his mere presence clouding your mind. Hated how you wished to step closer to him. This wasn’t the first time he had done something as intimate as this with you but those moments were far and few between.

He was surprisingly gentle as he wiped at your face, his hand never leaving your chin even as his other fell back to his side. He stared down at you with an indiscernible emotion and your eyes bounced between his. Part of you wished this small moment would never end. But wishing and praying had never done you any good and the moment was over before you knew it.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Elain had made her way over to you and Azriel dropped his grip on you like your skin had burned him. You swallowed harshly, looking at the girl who had captured his heart in the short time she had been here.

“I’m okay, Elain,” you replied with a little dip of your head. “Just a bit emotional is all.”

She smiled at you and you wished more than anything that you could hate her. But you couldn’t. She had only ever been sweet to you. Only ever wanted to be your friend. “I can’t believe we’re about to have another baby around here. You’ll have to help me set up the nursery for Feyre again, y/n!”

“Of course!”

Elain’s hand rested on Azriel’s bicep and the sight made the dinner you had just eaten churn in your stomach. You needed to get away from them. It hadn’t been long enough. You hadn’t been away long enough to get rid of these stupid feelings. You glanced back at Azriel to find him still looking at you. You mustered up the will to give them a parting smile before dipping away.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Feyre and Rhysand had called it a night after some time celebrating but Mor had declared the night wasn’t over. At least not for you two. You hadn’t hesitated to agree to go to Rita’s—ready to let loose after having to deal with the heartache of being near Azriel and Elain.

Cassian and Nesta decided to come as well. And then to everyone’s surprise, Azriel had also said he’d come which made Elain shyly say she’d come as well. Just when you’d thought you’d have a moment of relief, the Mother had decided to spite you again. Perhaps she was just trying to drill home the point that Azriel would never be yours.

Mor passed you another shot glass and you chugged it before even asking what was in it. All you knew was you wanted to be drunk—and fast. You were squeezed between Nesta and Mor in the large booth your group occupied.

Your eyes flicked to the other side of the table. Azriel and Elain sat there, both sipping on their drinks. Neither of them looked comfortable and you wondered why they even bothered to come.

“I wanna dance,” you slurred, pouting at Mor. You shoved at your cousin to let you out of the booth and she chuckled, moving out of the way.

“Take Mor with you, sweetheart.”

Nesta elbowed Cassian in his side. “She’s not a little girl, Cass.”

“She’s fine on her own,” Mor bit, backing up Nesta. “Besides, we can still see her from here.”

You missed the disapproving glare Azriel threw at Mor who rolled her eyes at him. The alcohol had finally taken effect, making you feel carefree. You let the music take over as you pushed your way into the dancing crowd.

For once you basked in the attention you were receiving and when you felt large hands wrap around your waist from behind, you didn’t falter like you might’ve before. You glanced up to see a high fae male smirking down at you. He was handsome with brown eyes and shaggy blonde hair.

You gave him your family’s signature feline grin and decided to just go with it—anything to get the shadowsinger out of your mind.

“Don’t,” Mor growled at Azriel as he went to stand up, his eyes locked on you and the male. Cassian watched with an annoyed frown. “Let her have fun. She knows how to handle herself.”

You were oblivious to the two disgruntled bats at the table though. A few more songs passed before the male grabbed your hand and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Come. Let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled and let him drag you to the bar. His hand slid to your lower back as you watched him place an order for both of you. He turned to hand you the drink the bartender made and his eyes widened as he looked at something over your shoulder.

Your brows furrowed until that familiar scent hit you.

“Leave us,” Azriel growled at him from behind you.

The male glanced between the two of you. “Sorry, I didn’t know she was here with someone.”

“I’m not here with him.” You crossed your arms, annoyed. The male’s eyebrow quirked up in amusement, looking back at Azriel.

“Well, it seems like the lady doesn’t want you here, pal,” he said. “So why don’t you leave us?”

A sliver of fear crossed his eyes as Azriel took a step forward, his hard chest pressing into your back. “Get lost,” he snarled, his voice pure ice. “Now.”

Your mouth dropped open as the male scurried off this time, evidently not wanting a confrontation with the shadowsinger. You whirled around to see Azriel glaring down at you. You pushed him away with a hand to his chest.

“What is your problem?!”

“My problem?” he snapped back at you. “That male was clearly going to take advantage of you. You should be thanking me for scaring him off.”

“Why the hell should I thank you! He wasn’t taking advantage of me. I wanted to be with that guy.”

“And he probably just wanted to use you to get close to Rhys for power or money—who knows.”

You felt a dagger pierce your heart at his words, at his unflinching cold stare. “Right. Because no one would ever want me for anything else. No one might ever just be interested in me and not my connection to Rhys.”

“Oh don’t be naive, y/n,” Azriel said, coldly. Your mouth dropped open, tears started building in your eyes at his cruelty. But then anger finally started to rise, overpowering the hurt.

“Just because you don’t desire me like that, doesn’t mean other males don’t as well! I am not a child anymore, Azriel. I know exactly what males want from me and I also know what I want from them. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

You chugged the drink in your hand before slamming the glass on the counter.

“Y/n, that’s not what I—”

You turned away, not wanting to hear anything else he said. You couldn’t bear anymore hurt. All you wanted to do was go somewhere else. Somewhere he wasn't so you could unleash the tears stinging your eyes.

His cold hand grabbed your wrist and whirled you back around. “This conversation isn’t over,” he bit out but you shrugged yourself out of his grip.

“Yes it is,” you ground out through your teeth. “In fact, instead of sticking your nose in my business, why don’t you worry about your girlfriend’s.”

“My what—”

Azriel turned his head to follow your line of sight back to the booth you had all been sitting at before. Elain sat there alone, Mor likely dancing and Nesta and Cassian probably off making out somewhere. Some guy was leaning against the table talking to Elain, who looked incredibly uncomfortable.

You didn’t wait to hear Azriel’s response, using the distraction to storm off and disappear in the crowd—your first night had officially been ruined.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The last place you wanted to be today was the House of Wind, but you had promised Cassian and Nesta you’d show up for Valkyrie training and you knew one of them would come looking for you if you hadn’t. You could feel Azriel’s eyes on you from across the training ring but ignored him, keeping your focus on Cass.

“Alright,” Cass said, clapping his hands together. He had just led you guys through a series of exercises and you could already feel some sweat dripping down your back. “Let’s move on to sparring. Pair up and get started. Y/n, you’re with me today! Got to get you back up to speed.”

You made your way to Cassian but were intercepted by Azriel stepping in between you two. “I’ll take over her training. The new girls need more help.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged and walked off, leaving you alone with the shadowsinger. You clenched your fists, not at all happy with having to work with Azriel today when you wanted to avoid him. You were still upset with the way he talked to you last night.

“Come,” he barked, not even looking at you. “We’ll take the back corner.”

He strode off without even making sure you were following. You let out a puff of air. Great, he was in that sort of mood.

As soon as you were within range, he tossed you a training sword. You barely caught it, taken off guard.

“Let’s see how much you’ve regressed while galavanting on the continent.” His tone was cold, clearly as upset with you as you were with him. Before you could even get into a starting position, he came at you. You let out a startled noise, blocking his attack.

You narrowed your eyes at him. Fine, if this was how he wanted to play, you weren’t going to be the one to back down.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You could barely catch your breath, evading another one of his attacks. Class had already wrapped up, most Priestesses packing up their things to go back to the library. But Azriel hadn’t let up one bit.

“Class is over, Az,” you panted, side stepping another attack. “Can we stop?”

“Class is over when I say it is,” he growled at you. He lifted his sword above his head and came down with an overhead attack. You had to roll out of the way to avoid it.

“What’s gotten into you?” You snapped, putting some distance between you and him, trying to steady yourself. Azriel had never treated you like this before.

“You’re the one who declared you’re not a child anymore last night,” he snapped back at you. “So I’m not treating you like one. Suck it up, princess, and either disarm me or surrender.”

You gritted your teeth together, annoyed that he was acting like such a prick. Why the hell was he so upset with you? You had done nothing to him.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Shut up and fight me,” he growled. “Or surrender and go back to being coddled by your brother like always.”

Fury sparked a fire in your gut. Since when did you ever ask to be coddled by Rhys? He had been the one that was overprotective, to the point of being paranoid. All you ever did was try to be the person your brother expected you to be, to not have him worry over you. You attacked him this time but he was quick to parry. You felt frustrated tears start to build in your eyes.

“Oh don’t start crying now,” Azriel snarled. “You asked for this.”

“I never asked for anything from you!” You could hardly keep your sword in your hand, your body shaking from the anger you felt.

“Because your brother caters to your every need.” He spat out the word brother like it was a curse and that only fueled the fire building in you. “He gives you everything you want, takes care of you, and still you decide to go run off to the continent, causing him to constantly worry about you.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped. “And keep my brother out of this. You know nothing about our relationship!”

He maneuvered behind you, using his free arm to wrap around your neck and pull you flush against his body. You were both panting, both sweating. You could faintly hear Cassian yelling at you guys to stop but you ignored him, too lost in your own anger.

Azriel leaned down, his breath dancing against your ear. “I know you’re just a burden to him. Just another responsibility that fell on his shoulders.”

The breath was expelled from your lungs, your stomach twisted into a knot. A burden? Is that how Rhys truly saw you? Just something he was being forced to take care of?

You elbowed Azriel in the stomach and kicked him in the chest away from you. He slid to a stop in the sand but then came back twice as hard. You tried to evade, tried to parry his attacks, but it was no use. You were not close to being the warrior Azriel was.

A knock to your wrist had your sword flying from you hand and you fell on your backside, scooting away from him. He didn’t seem to notice he had unarmed you and raised his sword to slash at you again. You let out a whimper of fear and lifted your hands up to block your face.

The sword sliced down the middle of your palm and you let out a pained cry. Azriel immediately froze, towering over your much smaller form on the ground. His eyes widened, the sword slipped out of his hand and suddenly Cassian was in between you two, his wings flaring out to block you as he shoved Azriel in the chest—hard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian screamed at him. He shoved him again but Azriel paid him no mind, his eyes stuck on you still sitting on the floor, now cradling your hand to your chest as blood dripped down your skin.

“Y/n…” Your name came from his lips, pure anguish in his voice as he stared at you in horror, as if now realizing he had gone way too far. You scrambled to your feet, fighting to rein in your tears.

Azriel stepped towards you but Cassian grabbed him by the shoulder roughly. “No, leave her alone. Why don’t you tell me what the hell that was?!”

Nesta was glancing between you and Azriel in shock and when she started to make her way towards you, you magick your wings, unfurled them, and took off into the sky as agony ripped through you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You had hoped to make it to your bedroom before running into anyone, but as per usual, the Mother decided to spite you. You nearly crashed into Rhys as you hurried down the hall. He caught you by your shoulders, his nostrils flaring as he smelt blood, before he looked down at you in surprise.

"Are you okay?" he asked before taking in the tears still pouring down your face. "Y/n, what happened? Why are you hurt?"

"It's nothing," you mumbled, trying to skirt around him but he yanked you into his office.

"It's not nothing," he said through clenched teeth, "You're bleeding and crying. Who hurt you?"

"It was just an accident during training this morning. I'm fine."

"Dove, please, I've seen you hurt worse than this and you never shed a tear then," he said, stroking your hair. "What happened?"

You couldn't hold it in anymore, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. "Am...am I a b-burden to you?"

"What?" he gasped in surprise. "Where did you get that idea?"

You shook your head, sniffling. Rhys sighed and pulled you into a hug. "Dove, you are not a burden to me. I don't know why you'd ever think that. I love you so much, too much perhaps. If anything, I'm the one who's burdened you with my incessant worrying."

You wished you felt relief but it just made you cry even more. Your brother continued to stroke your hair, holding you close. "Who caused you to think that?"

"No one," you mumbled into his chest. "It's nothing. I just thought—I don't know."

Rhys pulled back to hold you at arm's length. You tried to avoid eye contact with him but he gripped your chin and forced you to look up at him. Anger was swirling in his eyes. "Tell me who hurt you. Tell me who caused this."

You shook your head, not wanting to cause a fight between your brother and Azriel. His eyes glazed over for a second and you knew he was communicating with someone in his head. You felt yourself tense up. When his focus came back to you, that anger had grown into rage. You knew he had probably asked Cassian what happened at training and you cursed at the General for snitching.

He stepped around you and stalked towards the door just as Feyre entered his office. She gasped in surprise as she caught sight of the two of you. "Gods, what happened?"

Rhys brushed past her. "Stay here with her."

Feyre's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "Rhys, what's going on? Where are you going?"

He glanced at her over her shoulder, his teeth bared in a snarl. "I'm going to go kick Azriel's ass."

And then he disappeared in a swirl of darkness.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Tag List: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

#acotar #azriel #fanfic #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #shadowsinger x reader #angst #azriel fic

2K notes · View notes