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humanpurposes · 3 days

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De Jure

In light of a recent scandal, she finds herself becoming part of Aemond's plan for the future- Part 2 to De Facto.

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Main Masterlist // AO3

Warnings: 18+, smut, politics (putting my degree to good use), questionable power dynamics, manipulation, dub con/non con elements, baby trapping

Words: 4121

A/n: He looked too good at the New York premiere and I couldn't help myself :)

A strange feeling seems to follow her around Hightower House, like there are eyes on her, like everyone around her is watching her, like they know something.

It’s plausible enough that Aemond likes to keep her behind late most nights because he trusts her, more so than the other staff. There’s always something they need to talk through, some crisis that needs solving, some issue they can form a preemptive strategy for. Mostly “crisis resolution” comes in the form of him bending her over the desk and tearing through her tights, or having her on her knees with his hands in her hair and his cock slipping between her lips.

Aemond is precise, attentive, relentless. He leaves her stunned and satisfied in a way that the wanting never satiates itself.

Then there are the occasional glances, the sparse touches, his hand on her back when he walks into a room, his hand on her thigh under a desk, in the back of a car.

He’s careful to act inconspicuously around others, but there’s something about the way Maris glares at her, the way Alys watches her with her brows raised.

What if they know? How could they? How could they not?

Then she starts to get noticed by Otto Hightower. He’s a formidable figure in Hightower House, notorious for expecting the best from the staff, for his bluntness, his restrained but short temper, his intolerance for anything less than perfection– this is the man who made Aemond Targaryen the political force that he is after all.

After Aemond’s success in de-escalating the Aegon situation, Otto Hightower had personally pulled her aside and commended her. “Aemond said he wouldn’t have been able to pull it together if it weren’t for you.”

She’d been rather stunned that Aemond would mention her to his grandfather.

“Just doing my bit for the party,” she’d said.

He nodded his head at that, mouth poised in something like a smile.

She never has plans on a Friday night these days. She’s working through some polls, anxiously waiting for Aemond to finish a meeting with the inner circle, Otto, Cole and Alicent.

Alys is watching her between glances at her laptop, the same red lipstick on her lips, an eerie white light illuminating her face from the screen. Her nails tap against the keys and the surface of the desk when she pauses to think, to stare.

“What?” she says sharply, weeks of patience wearing thin.

Alys smirks to herself before slowly closing the lid of her laptop. “It seems as though something’s bothering you.”

A panicked feeling hums in her chest. She was too harsh. Her reaction was too obvious. “No, I’m fine,” she mutters.

“I thought you might be tired, you know, with all the overtime Mr Taragryen has you doing.”

She tries to laugh it off, to smile and shake her head, but her mouth feels stiff.

“Maris thinks he likes you.” Alys leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers.

“No more than he likes anyone else, I’m sure.”

One of Alys’ eyebrows lifts. With a short humming sound in her throat her lips break into another smile that bares her teeth. “Between us, I think Maris has a crush on him. It was cute at first but now I think she looks a little desperate…”

Desperate. What does that make her?

“... I think he likes you because you’re good at your job, but then sometimes it’s like he goes out of his way to ignore you. I thought he might be doing it to make the rest of us feel better.”

They stare at each other, locked in a silent dare. She feels her chest moving with her breath, her heart drumming under her skin.

“I think you’re reading into things,” she says, wincing at how dry her throat is.

Alys’ smile is gone now. She has this certain look, it can be unassuming and yet unnervingly intense. But they go back to their respective tasks. She looks like she has another thought brewing in her head, but she is interrupted by the ringing on the phone on her desk.

She picks it up instantly. “Hello, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll send her through now.”

The meeting isn’t over yet, the others would have passed the office on their way out. She tries not to stand too eagerly, taking her time as she collects the papers in front of her and picks up her phone– but what if Alys thinks she’s moving too slowly? She resists the urge to tut at herself or fiddle with the fabric of her skirt.

She has to walk by Alys’ desk to get to the door, and the thought fills her with dread, like she’ll be able to see right through her head and read every thought.

“Wait,” Alys calls as she hovers in the open doorway.

She turns to face her.

“He’s sweet,” Alys says, “and too gorgeous for his own good, but the Hightowers are opportunists.”

She knows that. The whole country knows that. For a generation, Westerosi politics has been nothing but a game between the Greens and the Blacks, a rivalry that started when Otto Hightower’s daughter caught the eye of Viserys Targaryen.

“You’re a smart girl,” Alys says. “Be careful.”

The walk to Aemond’s office feels longer than usual. The closed door feels more daunting. She taps her knuckles against it three times and pauses for a moment, until she hears his voice telling her to enter.

The days are growing shorter and the sun is already setting, a warm glow bleeding in through the tall windows. The light makes Aemond’s hair appear more golden than silver. He’s sitting on the sofa, suit jacket open, tie discarded, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair dishevelled, like he’s been running his hands through it.

Criston Cole is sat in an armchair and nods to her when she walks in. Otto Hightower sits with his back to the door, Alicent beside him.

They’ve been in here for hours, the table between them is covered in empty coffee cups and newspapers with bold headlines. Some have moved on from the Aegon scandal, others have not.

She looks to Aemond for an instruction.

He beckons her with a single finger, anticipation already pooling in her belly despite their company. She stands beside him, hovering by the arm of the sofa where Aemond leans against his elbow, clutching her papers close to her chest.

Otto greets her by name. She’s rather proud of how far she’s come since her first day, scared to even step foot in his office.

He and Cole continue to discuss the Duskendale by-election which will inevitably take place in light of Aegon’s removal. Otto says this will be an opportunity for the Blacks to capitalise on the scandal, win themselves another seat in Parliament and put pressure on the Greens, on Aemond. Alicent listens all the while, picking at her fingernails.

“Rhaenyra will pick someone close to her, someone charismatic,” Otto says, looking directly at her.

Why would he do that, does he expect a note to be taken on the conversation?

Aemond’s hand appearing on her waist takes her by surprise. She stares down at him wide-eyed at his carelessness. He doesn’t seem worried as he gently pulls her down to sit on the arm of the sofa. His arm stays wrapped around her back, his hand slotting into the curve of her body, his thumb tracing circles against her shirt.

She tries to look at Otto and Cole without drawing too much attention to herself, but they don’t seem surprised at Aemond’s little display of affection. Alicent stares at them passively.

“Who in the Black Party has any charisma?” Cole says dryly. “She’s hardly got any allies left.”

“Jacaerys,” Otto says.

Cole scoffs. “He’s fresh out of uni.”

“He’s young but he has appeal,” Alicent says. “Certainly more than Aegon ever did.” She says it so gently but with no hesitation.

“And a good speaker,” Aemond adds, “people respond to him, he’s likeable.”

One more question remains, a ceaseless itch in her brain, as distracting as Aemond’s hand clinging to her body. She clears her throat softly. “Who’s our candidate going to be?”

Aemond’s grip on her waist tightens and he looks up at her, dying sunlight beaming over his face, catching on the tip of his nose, the curve of his lip, the lines of his jaw. “We’ve been discussing that.”

She hates this, feeling like she’s a step behind everyone else in the room. She looks up at the faces of Otto and Cole. Aemond has a sister, Helaena, but she stays away from public life. His younger brother, Daeron, is still studying. There are also plenty of Hightower cousins, people already in their inner circle.

“If we are all in agreement,” Otto says, fixing his suit jacket as he stands. “Come, Alicent.”

Aemond’s mother has always been a glamorous woman, younger than she appears. It’s not something she’s ever noticed before but she has such a solemn look about her, wide brown eyes and fallen lips.

Aemond stands to kiss her on both cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, softly, still loud enough for her to hear it.

“I trust your judgement,” she says.

With that the three of them leave the room and Aemond closes the door behind her.

She’s still sitting unsurely on the arm of the sofa, resisting the urge to dig her fingernails into the leather.

Aemond turns to face her. He slips off his suit jacket and places it carefully on the coat hanger by the door. He takes measured steps towards the sofa. “I have something to tell you. Sit down.”

Her stomach drops at the sinisterly soft tone of his voice, but she does as he says, slipping from the arm to the sofa itself, only to find she cannot sit comfortably. The back isn’t quite in the right place, the seat is too soft, like she’s melting into it. She tries to sit with her back straight, her legs crossed, her hands in her lap and her head held high as he approaches her.

By now she thinks she has a good read of him, the subtleties in his expressions, the hints into his mind. She can’t read him now. He looks at her with excitement, with something softer, with a look of hunger and lust. But she can tell that he’s far too happy with himself.

“You look nervous. Are you nervous?” he says, undoing the buttons on his cuffs and pulling them up to bare his hands, the muscles and tendons of his forearms.

“Well, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s exciting, I promise.”

Exciting to him, clearly.

“Alright,” she says.

Aemond stands before her and smiles, only for a moment. Usually, in this position, he’d reach out for her cheek, maybe he’d lean down to kiss her.

He just looks at her, with amusement, wonder, curiosity, perhaps even pride. With a small hum to himself, Aemond says, “we need a candidate for Duskendale.”

“So I’ve heard,” she says, quietly but defiantly.

“I want it to be you.”

She feels her eyes go wide. The room feels cold and close. She can hear Aemond breathing through his nose, slow and steady.

After a few moments of silence, Aemond says, “what do you think?”

It takes her too long to find her breath. “You suggested it to Otto?”

“Yes. He and my mother agree, you’ll be perfect.”

Heat flushes in her face. She feels an urge to laugh, or cry, or grab him by the shoulders and ask him why in seven fucking hells he thinks this would be a good idea.

But then this is what she’s always wanted. This is why she studied so relentlessly, spent hours and hours in the library pouring over textbooks, why she gave up sleep to meet her deadlines, missed meals to afford rent in Sunspear, dedicated so much of herself to the extra work, all so she could have the very job Aemond is offering her on a silver platter.

It would be worth it, wouldn’t it? Knowing she could actually make a difference to the world that seemed determined to have her fail.

What if she asks him “why?” What if she gives him a reason to doubt her and he snatches that chance away?

She barely registers Aemond’s hands closing around hers before he pulls her up to stand. His forehead and his nose rest against hers, his breath warm over her skin. His lips are almost upon hers but he doesn’t move to kiss her, he keeps her waiting and restless.

“They’ve all agreed,” he mutters, “we need someone with no history, no scandals, nothing that could be held against us, not after the mess Aegon’s made.”

She pauses, pulling back a little so they can meet eye to eye. “You want me because I won’t embarrass you?”

Aemond tilts his head. “I want you because you’re the best option.” He leans in again, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek. “You’d be a perfect fit, you’re intelligent, you’re meticulous, you don’t miss details and you’re unafraid to speak your mind.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth but she turns her head. “I want to feel like I’ve earned it,” she utters.

Aemond’s mouth trails to her neck instead, kissing her firmly. “You have earned it,” he says, his hands moving to her waist, squeezing her, claiming her. His touch roams over the rest of her body while he kisses her neck, her thighs, her rear, anything he can reach.

It’s dangerous how she responds when his hands are in the right place, and he knows it. But she reaches for his wrists to make him stop when he starts to tug on the waist of her skirt with his fingers.

“Is that what you think this is,” she says, “do you think I’m only trying to get a career out of you?”

Aemond frowns.

“Do you think I want to be remembered as some shallow opportunist? Is that all you think I deserve?”

When he hums it catches in the back of his throat. He makes a small pout with his lips, the way he often does when he’s thinking.

“You have an opportunity to do something remarkable here,” he says, his voice low and chilling as he takes her chin in his fingertips. “Look at all the work you’ve done for me already, why deny yourself the chance to do more?”

It doesn’t have to be a denial, does it? Saying no to him would only mean she could take a different path, her own path, on her terms. Unless this is it. Unless she says no and this is the end of everything.

His fingertips press into her jaw, as if his patience is wearing thin with every passing moment.

She looks into his single violet eye and the sapphire prosthetic set in his left socket, determined to stand her ground. “Not like this,” she says.

Aemond tuts. “Are you worried you won’t get in? You’ll get the seat, I’ll make sure you do. You’ll get the career you’ve wanted for so long, you’ll get everything you’ve worked for.” There’s desperation in his voice, something familiar and yet primal. His thumb gently strokes over her cheek to her lower lip. “I’ll keep you with me. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Reason slips from her mind and something dangerous tightens in her gut. “What do you mean–”

Her question ends up muffled against his lips as Aemond kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her into him, closer and closer.

She holds her hands up and the only place for her palms to go is against his chest so she can feel his heat and his heartbeat through his shirt. She parts her lips, welcoming his tongue and his teeth, welcoming the way he consumes her.

“Once you’re in Parliament we can make things official,” he mutters between their kisses.

He goes in to kiss her again and she pulls back. “What?”

He huffs impatiently, taking her face in both his hands. “I need someone reliable by my side, someone like you. It’ll be good for my image, and for the party, to appeal to family values.”

She feels herself scowling. “Did your grandfather tell you that?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he says teasingly,

“What about all the work I’ve done already? I can’t give everything up?”

“What would you be giving up?”

Infuriatingly, her mind is suddenly blank.

Through the windows behind them, the sun is setting lower and lower in the sky, the golden rays only shining brighter as night creeps in. The world is as it was when they first met. Aemond’s eye burns in the light, his eye that has bored into hers as he’s pushed her over the threshold of bliss, that finds her across crowded rooms, that must have seen every inch of her skin.

“We’ll announce an engagement before you’re confirmed as our candidate,” he says. He comes to kiss her gently. The moment could almost feel tender, if he were not seeking to uproot her entire life. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against her lips. “Say yes to me, please, I need you to say yes.”

It’s easy to get lost in Aemond Targaryen, in his intensity, in his rare offerings of praise and approval. Her arms find their way around his neck, pulling herself into him, absentmindedly rocking her hips against his. His promises excite her as much as they terrify her.

“Say it,” he purrs, his voice catching in his throat as he walks her back. “I need an answer from you.”

The backs of her knees hit the edge of the sofa. She takes a moment to breathe and find her bearings.

Aemond’s eye is hooded and dark, his lips pressed together. She can feel it all simmering under the surface, his hunger, his desperation.

He needs her. He cannot lose this seat to the Blacks, he can’t give them space to challenge him. He can’t let Aegon’s indiscretions overshadow everything he’s been working towards. The Greens need to purge themselves of this damning image, they need a clean slate, and they’re willing to put her in the centre of government to get it.

“I’ll do it,”

His kiss is harsh when he captures her lips again, needy and commanding as he grabs at her waist.

She lets out a breath of surprise when he positions her to lay back on the sofa without parting from her. He’s over her, pressing her into the plush leather, a firm hold trailing from her neck, her wrists, her sides, her breasts through her blouse.

He undoes the buttons slowly, kissing the exposed parts of her flesh of her chest and stomach. When he has the blouse off completely he makes quick work of undoing her bra, discarding that to move his attention to her breasts. He toys with her nipples with his thumbs, lips and tongue until she’s writhing beneath him. She can already picture the bruises that will bloom in his wake.

He’s slow with her skirt too, she can hardly stand it, feeling the fabric and his fingertips dragging down her legs. With her shoes removed, Aemond sits back on his haunches and wraps his hands around one of her ankles, smirking as he strokes small circles over a sensitive spot of her skin.

“Please,” she utters, reaching her fingers out to graze his stomach, still hidden underneath a perfectly white shirt.

“I know, I know,” he coos, hooking his fingers in her panties to pull them from her legs. “I just like seeing you like this.

He wastes no more time, placing her ankle over his shoulder, spreading her other knee with a wide palm and leaning down until his face is between her legs. He knows to start slowly, to tease her with slow drags through her folds. It’s an infuriating feeling but she savours it. It’s the burn she loves, being dragged towards pleasure like a continual tide lapping at the shore.

She craves these unhurried moments, and she supposes there will only be more once Aemond gets his way.

His motions increase in speed when her breath quickens and she starts to squirm, with whispered mumblings of “please… I’m so close… please.” He borders on frantic, hums of approval vibrating against her centre.

It builds and builds until it releases a bloom of warmth in her belly that soon fades back into need when Aemond untangles himself from her. She watches him undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, as he unbuckles his belt and yanks it from the loops in his slacks. He bares himself to her. There’s no pride this time, just awe when he looks at her.

He positions himself above her, running the tip of his cock, already hard and leaking, against her, pushing against her clit with every gentle thrust.

She holds onto his arms for leverage, letting herself succumb to the sensation, the smell of his aftershave and his sweat, the heat and the sound of their breaths in unison.

“I mean it,” he says with a sigh, “I think you’re perfect.”

She smiles, planting a peck against his lips, before she slides a hand between their bodies and positions him at her entrance. She’s taken him enough times but the initial stretch has her gritting her teeth.

Aemond stills. “We can–”

“I want to take it,” she utters, “I want to feel you,”

His resolve melts, but he doesn’t push further, waiting for a nod from her before he inches himself deeper inside her.

Their bodies mould against each other, her arms around his shoulders, his head nestled into her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he pants. She watches him thrusting into her, chasing his own pleasure as he nudges against a spot inside her that leaves her feeling weightless.

He tries to increase his pace, but the back of the sofa hinders him somewhat. He grunts in frustration, gathering her in his arms and moving them both to the fur rug on the floor with ease. He brings her legs onto his shoulders and pushes into her once more, to the hilt, eliciting a gasp from her.

He chuckles to himself, showing his teeth and licking his lips. “You like that?”

“Yeah, fuck,” she breathes.

“Know you like it when I’m nice and deep,” he mutters, fucking her with swift snaps of his hips. With one hand on the floor he takes a gentle hold of her neck with the other, leaning in so her thighs are pressed against her chest. “My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

Her second climax is within reach, she feels the heat rising inside of her, her hips trying to buck but she’s caged by him.

Aemond’s hold on her neck tightens. “You’re close,” he says with a wicked smile on his lips.

Her back arches from the floor, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, “please don’t fucking stop…”

She clings to him, each one of them at the other’s mercy.

“I’ve got you,” Aemond says, continuing to drive his hips against hers. He must be reaching his own end, his pace is starting to falter, his moans unrestrained.

Usually he makes a habit of spilling himself over her body, her stomach or her thighs.

“Aemond?” she breathes.

“You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?” he says, “you’re mine now, we might as well get a head start.”

The realisation makes her stomach drop. “Wait–” she tries to murmur between her whines, “you can’t– not yet–”

He leans in to kiss her, to soothe her, to silence her.

He comes with a guttural groan, his hips stilling against her and a warmth spreading inside of her. Her own pleasure erupts after that, she can feel herself clenching around him, her body greedy for everything he has to offer her.

Aemond stays pressed against her for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. He withdraws from her slowly, bringing her legs down– she sees the way his eye lingers between her legs, something hot and wet dripping from within her. He gathers it with the tip of his cock, pushing himself into her again with short, shallow thrusts.

He takes her by her neck again, demanding her attention.

She gazes back at him, breathless, wide-eyed.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos. “With any luck we’ll have a due date to announce alongside your victory in Duskendale.”

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coff33andb00ks · 2 days

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Rule Breaker - Pt 1

max verstappen x single mom!reader face claim: none, random pinterest find warnings: cursing, max is broody, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, idk red bull team aside from Max, Checo, and Horner... (y/n's bestie is named after my irl bestie bc she told me to write this, and y/n's son is not named after Magnussen i swear) Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 4293 auth.note: hiii new to writing for f1 so I'm posting this in the middle of the night and hiding in bed - feedback greatly appreciated. also this is forbidden love/he falls first/friends to enemies to lovers

"Hey Max, come meet the new social media admin."

On his way out, he barely heard the words. But they registered and he immediately turned, knowing how important it was to have a good rapport with the social media personnel. He only had to meet them, then he could leave and go to the team apartment and… He didn't know. Pass time in his sim until he couldn't hold his eyes open. Maybe he'd go for a run until he was close to exhaustion. Or see if Lando was in the country and they could go out together. It was only when he was about to pass out that he was able to sleep and not be plagued with dreams.

His eyes swept the small office, swiveling to focus on the new face. She smiled, giving him a little wave as she set down her slice of pizza.

"Max, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Max."

"Hello," he said, watching as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Hi, sorry." She took a sip of her drink and wiped her mouth again. "Sorry – It's so great to meet you."

She was American. Walking over, he extended his hand. "Where are you from?"

Shaking his hand, she smiled up at him. "Well most recently I was with—"

"No, no, where in America," he corrected.

"Oh! North Carolina. I try to keep the country accent to a minimum but sometimes I slip up." She motioned to the pizza box on the desk. "You want a slice?"

No, he had to leave. His work was done, he didn't need to hang around and kill his precious down time. Besides, his diet was strict for the next few days, what with the race coming up. He had to focus on… Within fifteen seconds he was sitting across from her, holding a slice in one hand. One slice wouldn't hurt, he decided as he took a bite. "How long have you been in England?"

"About three weeks?" She glanced at her watch and nodded. "Three weeks tomorrow. I was staying at an Airbnb until a week ago when I moved into my apartment."

He nodded. "Are you going to be based here or go to the races?"

"Races. Gonna be living the glamorous life of travel and hotels and surviving on caffeine and sugar," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not so bad."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it. You've been doing it for, what, half your life now?"

Shrugging, he took a sip of his water. "More than that, really. Are you saying you don't travel?"

"Not like this. I lucked out with my last job because I was able to do it mostly from home. I think I went up to New York or out to Cali maybe six times total? But I know I can do it," she added when his eyebrows lifted. "It'll just take a little getting used to, especially with a little one in tow a lot of the time."

That surprised him. His eyes immediately moved to her hands, which were completely bare of rings. "A little one?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes lighting. "He's three."

"What's his name?" Max asked. It was none of his business about the boy's father, anyway, so he wasn't going to ask about him. And he didn't even care.

"Kevin." Her smile was both shy and sparkling.

His chest tightened. Kevin, he knew, was one of the most loved children in the world. "What's he like?" The words came out and only after saying them he realized he wanted to know.

"He's… He's Kevin." She laughed. "He asks a million questions and will talk to anyone about anything. He's high energy but has laser focus when it's something that interests him – Like the other day I took him to the park. I expected him to be running around and trying out all the swings and stuff, but he spent an hour crawling in the grass following a caterpillar."

"Laser focus can be good at times," Max told her, earning a warm smile.

"I know. He comes by it honest because I do the same thing when I'm working."

"Will you be bringing him to the races?" Finished with his pizza, he shook his head when she nudged the box towards him and sat back to finish his water.

"Yeah. Not all of them, but to the next few. I already talked to Mr. Horner and Wanda about it," she said quickly, as though expecting him to be upset about her bringing her child to work. "He won't be in the way. My best friend – Ellie, she's his godmother – is traveling with me to Imola and Monaco to watch him for me. But her new job starts the first of June so I have to make arrangements before then."

"Does he like racing?"

"He's three," she deadpanned. "He loves anything with cars or trucks."

"You'll have to bring him to the track—"

"He also loves fart jokes and bugs."

Max blinked at her, snorting on a laugh when she grinned at him. "Fair enough."

"I do have to warn you, though," she said carefully, standing to gather the napkins and throw them into the trash. Closing the pizza box, she used a clean napkin to wipe off the desk. "He likes McLaren."

"It's the orange livery isn't it?" Max sighed. When she nodded, he shrugged. "I'll do my best to not hate him."

She giggled, letting out a snort.

And, for the first time in six months, Max felt lighter.

*-*

"There's my lil doodle bug," Viv cooed as Kevin leapt off the couch and ran towards her. Dropping her purse and work bag, she scooped him into a hug. "Hi sweetheart. How was your day, hm?"

Her son grinned, squeezing her tight. "I fell in poop!"

Viv froze for two seconds and leaned back a little. "What kind of poop?"

"Dog. Yes, it was fresh. Yes, he had a bath. Yes, I washed his clothes," Ellie announced as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Your dinner's almost done – How was work?"

Viv kissed her son's cheek and set him down so she could pick up her bags. "I spent the day reading protocols and policies and signing contracts. Oh, and getting my uniform."

Ellie took the knapsack stuffed with team shirts and jackets. "Good thing you love blue huh?"

"No kidding." She glanced over to Kevin, who had climbed back onto the couch and resumed lining his hot wheels along the back. "How was he today?"

"He was fine. You worry too much, mama," Ellie said gently, following y/n to her bedroom. Setting the knapsack down, she took the work bag and reached inside to switch off y/n's work phone. "Ah, ah, you're off now. You don't officially start work until Monday, so they can't expect you to be on call."

"Yes ma'am." Y/n held her hands up in surrender. "I'm gonna change and get him tucked in then I'll eat, promise."

"Perfect. Bridgerton tonight?" Ellie asked on her way out the door.

"You know it!" y/n called after her.

Once she'd changed into sweats and an old t-shirt she went to the living room. "C'mon, doodle bug," she said softly, smiling when Kevin slid off the couch without hesitation. She helped him pack his cars into their cubby, telling him about her boring day at work while she led him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. Then to her bedroom, wishing she had been able to afford a larger apartment so he could have his own space. But he didn't seem to mind, and more often than not he ended up crawling into her bed during the night. Something she treasured, because she knew that all too soon he would be "too big" to share a bed with his mama.

Three storybooks and a rambling made up tale about a one-eyed dragon and the princess that saved him from the evil knight later, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned off the light. "Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams," she whispered before she left the room.

"So I met Max Verstappen today," she told Ellie a few minutes later while fixing her drink.

"Ooo Mr Tu Tu Du Du himself?"

Y/n snorted. "Yeah, that one." The chicken alfredo with a side of broccoli looked so much more appetizing than the greasy pizza she'd had for a late lunch, and she almost felt like she'd cheated on her best friend for ordering takeout.

"What's he like?" Ellie asked, scooping a little more sauce over the noodles.

"He's nice."

"Just nice?"

"I mean, he asked me surface level questions and laughed at my lame jokes? Yeah, nice." Y/n pulled her plate away before Ellie could push more food onto it and sat down to eat. "Everyone's been so nice, Ellie…"

Her friend squeezed her shoulder. "I'm so glad. I have good news, too."

Y/n lifted her eyebrows, unable to speak because her mouth was full.

Ellie sat down, smiling brightly. "I spoke to HR today and Kev will be able to use the daycare."

Gulping down her mouthful of food, y/n gasped. "Oh that's great!" she cried, feeling the weight of worry that had been plaguing her for three weeks lift. "They're sure?"

"Yep, you just have to come in with me before the first and sign a document giving me permission to take him from the premises."

"Excellent, we can go in the morning? I have to go in after lunch to get my kit. Camera, laptop, all that. And Wanda told me to get more shirts so I don't have to worry about laundry while on the road – Oh and I'll be getting our passes."

"Kevin is so excited about Italy. He wants to see the leaning tower of pizza."

"Bless his heart, maybe I can take him one day."

Plans made, she finished her late dinner and did the washing up then changed into her pajamas before settling on the couch to watch Bridgerton. They were rewatching the series so she didn't feel guilty about scrolling her social media, finally biting the bullet and following all of the RedBull people she knew from headquarters.

"You are the bane of my existence… and the object of all my desires."

"Ugh," Y/N and Ellie whined in unison.

"So much nicer than you've had me hard since we met," y/n muttered.

"Let's be real, practically anything is better than that," Ellie agreed.

They finished the episode and y/n headed to bed, keeping as quietly as possible even though she knew her son could sleep through anything. Digging her work phone from her bag, she powered it on to check for any missed messages, smiling slightly when she saw Max had added her on WhatsApp. Adding him back, she was about to turn the phone off again when a new message popped up.

👋🏻

Rolling her eyes, she replied with the same emoji and waited a few seconds before plugging the phone in and turning on do not disturb. She wasn't going to have a late night chat with Max Verstappen of all people. He was probably just being nice, she told herself as she brushed her teeth and did her skincare. Wanda had told her that Max added everyone but rarely messaged anyone aside from Mr. Horner or the engineers.

Besides, she wasn't there to make friends, she reminded herself as she climbed into bed. She could be friendly, but she was there to do a job.

And no flirting with him either, she thought, immediately wondering why the idea had popped into her mind. She would never – okay, she might, if unintentionally. She knew it was a protective thing, knew it was because she had the undesirable need to have everyone like her. But she couldn't do it. Not with him, especially. He'd probably laugh in her face. He was younger than her and probably had a never ending line of gorgeous women waiting to please him.

Before she switched off the lamp she glanced over at her sleeping son. A living, breathing, very real reminder of what she'd gone through just four years ago. And she knew she couldn't go through that again. She wasn't strong enough. She refused to endure that torture and heartache. Kevin needed her, so she had to be strong for him.

Not to mention there was a no hanky-panky clause in her contract?

She had barely closed her eyes when she heard his toddler bed creak. Lying there, she listened to his feet whispering against the rug, smiling in the dark when he slowly slid the covers back.

"Mama," he whispered, and she reached for him. He snuggled close, tucking his head under her chin as she pulled the covers over them.

"Love you, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss into his hair.

"Love you, Mama."

*-*

"I think it's good, yeah," Max said, eyes scanning the screens of data from the upgrades. "It'll be great for turn seven." Nodding, he listened to the engineers as they went over potential upgrades for Monaco. Once the meeting was finished he grabbed his water bottle and left the room, ignoring the almost immediate phone call from his father. He knew it was his dad without checking, and strode down the hall, intent on leaving and heading straight for the airport to go home. Where he could ignore everything and everyone until Sunday when it was time to fly to Italy.

Rounding the corner, he lurched to a stop as a small child darted in front of him, his giggles echoing down the corridor. The little boy stopped and looked up at Max, blinking slowly.

"Hi!" He waved.

"Hello." Max heard rapid footsteps and glanced up to see y/n iquickly approaching.

"Kevin Scott—"

"I've got him," Max told her with a quick wave, squatting down to the boy's level. "So you're Kevin?"

The boy nodded, light blonde curls bouncing on his head. "I'm Kevin. That's Mama."

"I'm Max. I heard a lot about you."

Kevin's eyes widened. "You know Mama?"

"About this much." Max held his thumb and index finger barely a centimeter apart. He quickly looked to y/n, who was walking up behind Kevin. "I work with her."

"Ohh… She's gonna take me to see cars. D'you like cars Mister Max?" he asked seriously. As though cars were the most important thing in the universe.

"More than I like myself some days," Max quipped, reaching to check the miniature car the boy was holding in his hand. "I drive one like this."

Kevin gasped. "Do you got it here?"

Max chuckled. "We have a lot. Do you want to see them?"

"Please," the boy said, and Max couldn't have said no under any circumstances.

"You have to ask your mum," he said gently. "And maybe say sorry for running away from her?"

Kevin immediately turned to his mother. "Mama I sorry. Can Mister Max take me to cars?"

She sighed, squatting down to fix his shorts. "We've gotta be more careful, sweetheart. And yes, Mister Max can take us to see the cars."

Kevin spun to face Max again. "She said yes!"

Grinning, Max nodded and stood.

"Thank you," y/n said softly. "I'm sor—"

"He's three, yeah?" Max reached to place his hand on the boy's head, gently guiding him closer when he started to wander off. "Don't apologize for him being a child."

She tipped her head at that, then nodded, grabbing hold of Kevin's hand as Max turned to lead them back down the hallway he'd just left. "I only came by to get my kit, and his aunt had paperwork at her new workplace to finish up, so I had to bring him."

"I'm glad you did." Max gave her a gentle smile, using his card to open the door leading to the back of headquarters. "Have you been back here?"

"Only on my tour the other day."

"Just stick with me," he said. They wouldn't be entering the engineer or design areas, only taking the corridor to the garage. Otherwise they'd have to travel all the way to the main entrance and walk around to the back, which would be tedious for her son.

"I'm under contract and signed an NDA, and it's not like I'd know where to go to sell team secrets," she told him. "And I wouldn't even know what I overheard."

"Not a car fan?" he asked, accepting the model car Kevin was shoving at him. Slipping it into his pocket, he guided them along the curving corridor.

"Eh… Kinda? I like racing. I don't understand all the mechanics to it, I just like the adrenaline of watching twenty guys drive really fast. And I can admire good craftsmanship, like a Bugatti or a McLaren, ya know?"

"What do you drive?" Max asked, using his card to open the door to the garage. Met with the faint aroma of rubber and asphalt, he inhaled deeply, catching with it a lighter, more pleasant scent.

"Nothing at the moment. I've been taking an Uber to and from the apartment," she explained. "I'll probably get a used car after my first paycheck."

Max furrowed his brows, stopping on the catwalk. "You haven't gotten paid yet?"

"No? Well, only my signing bonus, and that's gone to household necessities like rent and food. It's fine, Max, I don't need a car right now."

What are you going to do, give her one of yours? he thought, reaching to Kevin and lifting the boy to his hip so he could carry him down the stairs to the main level. Kevin was already oohing and aahing over the neat rows of cars. "It's just me, Brandon," he called, seeing the member of the security team at the other end of the garage. "A quick tour for a new friend, yeah?"

Brandon waved and disappeared around the corner.

At the bottom of the stairs, Max set Kevin down, ushering him to the nearest car. The boy's excitement was contagious, and Max gleefully told him about each one that he'd driven, helping the boy climb into each and press buttons on the steering wheel. Laughing when Kevin made racecar noises, he pulled out his phone to pull up some videos for sound effects. Swiping away the notifications from his dad, he turned up the volume so the engine sounds echoed in the garage, enjoying Kevin's childish glee.

"This one you know," he said, guiding him to the most recent addition. Lifting him into the seat, he squatted down. "This is a car I drove last year, which—" He pulled the model car from his pocket and set it on top of the steering column. "—is just like the one you have."

"Wow." Kevin looked at him with pure awe. "Did you win?"

"I did. And I won the championship too."

"You're a champ-een, Mister Max?" the boy gasped.

"I am."

"Like Lightning McQueen?"

"You could say that," he chuckled, affectionately ruffling the boy's curls. Glancing over at y/n, he paused when he saw she was holding up her phone.

She peered at him over the top. "Is it okay to take pictures?"

"Of course." He had a feeling she'd already taken dozens. He stepped out of the way so she could get photos of Kevin in the car, then lifted him out once she tucked her phone away. "Have you seen the trophies?"

"No. Can we see 'em, Mister Max? Please?"

"You have to ask your mum." Turning, he sent y/n a pleading look as Kevin asked permission.

"As long as Mister Max doesn't mind," she said, rolling her eyes when Kevin squealed yay.

"It's a long walk, do you want me to carry you?"

Kevin squirmed, wriggling so he was piggybacking. "Thank you Mister Max."

His chest tightened, and he reached to adjust the boy's legs around his middle. "You're welcome, Kevin. We do have to make a stop on the way to the trophy case, though."

Next to him, y/n cleared her throat. "I can take him if you've got something to do."

"No, it's fine, a quick stop," Max assured her, motioning for her to go up the stairs first.

"A pit stop?" Kevin asked, giggling as Max jogged up the steps.

"Exactly that. No more than ten seconds," he promised.

Fifteen minutes later, he was squatting down to fix the collar of Kevin's new shirt. "There you go, mate. What do you think?"

Kevin grinned and gave him a thumb's up.

Max looked up at y/n, who rolled her eyes. "He has to be Team Red Bull," he explained with a shrug, adjusting Kevin's new cap with a grin. Thanking the merch manager, he handed over the bag of goodies he'd grabbed and motioned for Kevin to climb onto his back.

"Thank you!" Kevin called, waving enthusiastically as he was carried out.

"Thank you, Max," y/n murmured while they walked towards reception. "But please don't get him anything else."

"I won't," he said softly. "If I overstepped—"

"No, no, it's fine. He'll wear the shirts until they're too small and he'll play with the models until they fall apart. I just don't want him to think he'll get this type of treatment all the time."

"I understand." He nodded. She didn't want her son to be spoiled. Which he found admirable. "…So giving him one of my old cars is out of the question?"

She halted, jaw dropping. "Max!"

"A joke!" he promised, flashing her a grin as he jogged ahead.

"Not funny," she scoffed behind him, and he heard her huff as she ran to catch up. "Those things cost probably a million—"

Max swung around, easily catching Kevin and swinging him back onto his back. "The car for Miami was about sixteen million."

Her eyes widened. "Sixteen—" She pressed her hands together right in front of her mouth. "Million? As in sixteen then six zeroes behind it?"

Nodding, he started walking backwards, amused at her reaction. She was staring at him in shock, and her son was giggling. "It's hard to pinpoint an exact cost, because we reuse some components from race to race. A chassis, or wings, yeah? If you really wanted to know I can pull up the data and get the price for each part—"

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Please don't. I'd probably faint."

"It's an expensive sport, y/n," he reminded her.

"Yeah no shit," she muttered, exhaling harshly. "I've got so much to learn."

"You'll be fine." He'd meant it to come out in an offhand manner. A generic it's okay so feelings wouldn't be hurt. But it came out gently, laced with reassurance and promise. And, before he could stop himself, his mouth opened again. "If you have any questions you can ask me."

"I can Google," she told him.

"I can change my Wikipedia to say I'm eighty-six. Doesn't make it true," he quipped.

To his relief, she laughed. "Fair point. I'll be sure and ask you."

He turned his attention back to Kevin, swinging him from his back to his hip. Reception was empty, and he set the boy down so he could explore the various displays. "He can't hurt anything," he reassured her, knowing she was watching carefully as Kevin ran over to a wing displayed on the wall.

"I just worry," she sighed.

"Why do you sound like you're apologizing?" Folding his arms over his chest, he watched Kevin walk around the large room, drinking it all in. "You're his mother, you're supposed to worry. If you didn't you would have to apologize."

"Thank you."

"He's a good kid, y/n," he said softly.

"I think so too." He could hear the smile in her voice and turned slightly to see it on her face.

Every other time he'd been in this room the weather outside had been cloudy or rainy. He couldn't remember the sun ever shining as he'd stood there to soak in all the history. Until now. It poured through the windows, causing the trophies in the cases to sparkle and the polished floor to gleam. It shone into her eyes, and he could only stare at her as she squinted a little, a tiny dimple appearing in her left cheek.

God, she was lovely.

She glanced at him and his breathing kickstarted. Unconsciously licking his lips, he cleared his throat. "You seem to be doing well, for a single mom."

Her smile faltered and he mentally kicked himself. She looked to Kevin, who was studying the Red Bull logo on the wall, and looked at Max again. "I didn't have a choice."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

"Oh he's not dead." She watched her son, her smile gone. "Just dead to us."

"Then I'm sorry for bringing it up." It had ruined the day. Well, alright, not the day but the moment. They'd been having fun, he'd been having fun.

You always fuck up don't you?

His jaw clenched as the angry voice from years ago echoed in his mind.

"It's okay, Max." Her gentle voice cut through the echoes of the past and he forced his jaw to relax.

Nodding, he uncrossed his arms and called to Kevin, taking him by the hand and leading him to the towering trophy case. "Come on, y/n, time to learn some history."

She snorted on a laugh but joined them, and he could tell she was paying attention as he rattled off years and races and drivers to Kevin.

You're going to fuck this up too, the voice sneered.

#f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #my writings > mv > rulebreaker

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sodaabaa · 2 days

Text

shadows and spirits, part two

azriel x reader reader is azriel's mate but she hasn't accepted the bond yet due to her fear of azriel himself.

tw: nsfw, smut, brief mentions of childhood trauma, edging, oral, restraint.

part one

a/n: holy shit y'all, azriel made me go feral with this one. enjoy ;)

“You won’t be able to stay away from him much longer,” Feyre teased. When one night stands and self-pleasure proved to be unsuccessful, Y/N gave up trying to satisfy herself altogether. Instead, ignoring the throbbing between her legs by staying as busy as she could – filling her days with extra shifts at the bar and frequent after-work drinks with Feyre.

“Shut up.” “That’s no way to speak to your High Lady,” She gasped, a hand on her chest in feigned shock.

Y/N scoffed, “Don’t you have places to be, my lady?”

She waved a hand, “What could possibly be more important than watching you try to ignore how frustrated you are?”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth. Feyre gave her a look that said ‘sure you are’ but she didn’t bring it up again. The two spent the night drinking, Y/N listened as Feyre drunkenly ranted about Rhys and Nesta’s most recent topic of debate – and by debate, she meant they nearly mauled each other to death. Y/N couldn’t help the curiosity nagging at her.

“What’s he been doing?” She finally asked.

“Sulking. Brooding. The usual.”

Y/N nodded, for some reason she was unconvinced that the Spymaster hadn’t been up to anything.

“He doesn’t show it – much less say it – but your fear, it’s messing with him,” Feyre confessed.

She didn’t say anything, opting for another shot instead.

“He’s been waiting for a mate for five hundred years, Y/N. And he’s had a hard life. He shares your complaints about Illyrians because he was subjected to their cruelty just as you and your mother were. I know he can be intimidating but if you trust me at all, trust that you would be in good hands with him as your mate.”

They finally parted, a dangerous amount of alcohol in their systems as they walked off. Y/N stumbled her way to her apartment. She could’ve sworn the alleyway between the buildings were darker but she chalked it up to being drunk off her mind. When she finally reached her destination, she collapsed on her couch, exhausted. The alcohol had done a good job at dulling the incessant throbbing – so much so that she finally got a few hours of rest before dreams of a man entrenched in shadows, head between her legs, startled her awake.

Damn you, Shadowsinger.

She rubbed her thighs together, the images of her dream flashing before her eyes. A hand traveled down her stomach, trailing to the spot between her legs she was beginning to resent. She slipped her fingers underneath her panties, giving in to the nagging arousal as she worked the spot. His face flashed before her eyes and she cursed, removing her hands and sitting up. Y/N decided to take a cold shower, if only to punish herself for thinking of that damned Illyrian. Shadows shifted in the corner and she stilled. She had no idea how his shadows worked but she had a creeping suspicion he used them as his eyes and ears.

“What happened? Too scared to come and see me yourself so you send your shadows instead?” The shadows went still and Y/N thought maybe she had imagined their movement. She shook her head, and just as she was about to walk away, a tendril of shadow reached for her hand, reluctant to touch her but it looked curious. She reached out, fingertips brushing the shadow before it retreated through the cracks of her door, disappearing into the light.

After a long, scaldingly hot shower, Y/N decided to stay home for the day because of the pounding headache thanks to her and Feyre’s drinking session the night before. She sighed as she sunk into her bed, wearing only a fluffy bathrobe, content to lounge in bed the rest of the day. Unfortunately, someone had other plans. A knock at her front door startled her from her relaxed daze. She groaned, unwilling to get up and answer the door. Another knock, this time accompanied by a velvety voice.

“What happened? Too scared to come and face me?”

She muttered a curse under her breath and she stood, wrapping the robe just a little tighter around her body for good measure. She cracked the door open, just enough to peek through.

“What do you want, I’m in the middle of something.” He looked down at her, brows quirked up in amusement. He was holding a brown paper bag against his torso.

“In the middle of a bad hangover?” He motioned to the bag, “I have the world’s best cure, right here.”

She pulled the door open, ever so slightly, “I’m listening.”

“Let me in and it’s all yours.”

She considered his offer for a moment, lips twisted in silent contemplation. The two of them together, in a rather small apartment. Alone. What could possibly go wrong? “Fine – but no funny business. Keep your hands to yourself,” She pointed an accusing finger at him to which he responded with raised hands in mock surrender. She let him in, the door much too small to accommodate his tall frame and those absurdly large wings but he wiggled himself in anyway.

She snatched the bag from him and plopped down on the couch, not waiting for him to find a seat. She opened the bag and her mouth watered at the smell of the variety of greasy, fried foods he brought her. He must have seen the way her shoulders dropped in relief as she dug into the food, emitting a laugh from the normally stone faced man. She placed the bag on the table between them and pulled out the cartons of the fragrant food inside.

“What, I’m starving and hungover,” She said, in between bites. In the midst of her feast, she realized this was everything she’d usually order from Rita’s. Wedges of spicy fried potatoes, garlicky bites of chicken, and onion rings.

“You should drink some water,” He pulled a bottle of water from the bag.

She shook her head, “Nuh-uh, I’m not done yet.” His eyes narrowed, “Water. Now.”

Her eyes widened at the sudden change in tone, authoritative and stern (she didn’t want to admit it made her knees go weak and her stomach flutter). She reached to take the bottle from him but he pulled it back towards himself, causing her to stumble forward

“Dick,” She spat.

“If you want some, it’s right here,” He motioned downwards.

She leaned forward and snatched the bottle, taking a few dramatic gulps to ensure he wouldn’t pester her about drinking more later.

She sat back, hands over her stomach as she groaned, “I ate too much.”

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a genuine smile. She hated to admit it but she was beginning to enjoy hearing his laugh – and being the reason behind it. His shadows swirled around him, some of them pulling away from him but not quite able to reach their desired destination.

“How do they work?” He quirked an eyebrow in question.

“The shadows.”

“Ah. They obey me,” He said with a nod, the shadows slithered over his form and across the room. They hovered over her legs as he watched.

She gave him a look, “Well I could see that. But are they – alive? Do they have a mind of their own? Or are they just an extension of you? Did you capture them or were you somehow born with them?” She rambled.

He smiled at her sudden interest in him and his shadows. The shadows returned to their master.

“They’re sentient – if that’s what you mean by alive. They can feel things, sense things to an extent. Sometimes they slip from under my control but it’s easy to reign them back in,” He paused, contemplating how to answer her other questions. “My father used to lock me up in the dark. I would talk to the shadows, to feel less alone. One day, I suppose, the shadows decided to talk back. They became a part of me, tied to my pain – insistent on protecting me, helping me,” He explained, he was looking down at his hands now. She winced at his confession, at the suffering he must have endured as a child.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He smiled again, “Don’t be. It was centuries ago,” he waved off.

She held his gaze, entranced by those hazel eyes. She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how close they were, only a small coffee table separating them.

“Thank you for the food,” She said, flustered under his gaze, “You didn’t eat anything–,” He cut her off before she could finish.

“I’m not hungry for food.”

She stilled. Her heart pounded in her ears. “I should go, I only wanted to make sure you were okay after you and Feyre drank your weight in alcohol,” He said. She sighed in relief.

“So you were spying on me!”

He shrugged, “You can’t expect me not to, especially if you’re drunk out of your mind.”

He stalked over to the door, wings tucked in tight to avoid bumping into anything.

“Don’t dream too much of me,” He said with a knowing smirk. She shoved him out the door and (semi) slammed it shut, exhaling as she slumped against the door.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/N tossed and turned in bed that night, unable to ignore the throbbing between her legs any longer. She sat up, thinking about the man who brought her food just a few hours ago. It wasn’t his dominating presence or his flirty comments that riled her up anymore – it was his vulnerability, his honesty. He confided in her, paid attention to the little details, made sure she was safe and taken care of. She peered at the corners of her room, looking for the shadows that writhed with life. When she spotted movement in the corner, she reached a hand out to it. The shadow moved like smoke, twisting and curling towards her outstretched hand, weaving in between her fingers. She giggled, it felt odd – the shadows weren’t solid, it felt almost like a cold breeze, she couldn’t quite grasp it but she could feel it there, real.

“I’m ready,” She spoke softly. The shadow twirled around her fingers before slipping out of the room to return to its master – eager to relay the news.

She sat in bed, knees to her chest as she waited anxiously for Azriel’s arrival. She heard the door unlock and saw the shadows pool into her room before he walked in. He looked at her with pure hunger in his eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep,” She confessed.

“I think I can help with that,” He stalked over to her, body pulsing with energy. She scooted back, making space for him on the bed.

“Don’t I have to feed you first? Feyre said–,” He grabbed her feet from under her, yanking to straighten her out onto the bed. The force caused her to fall back against the bed.

“I have all I need right here,” He kneeled at the edge of the bed while his hands trailed up her bare legs.

Heat rushed to her face as he left a trail of kisses down her stomach, making his way down to her thighs – and Oh. He nipped at the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to the pulsing heat of her core.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his breath tickling her skin as he looked up at her.

She nodded, “I accept you as my mate, Azriel.”

That was all he needed. Azriel ripped off her shorts and panties in one motion, shadows thrumming to life behind him as he devoured her. His mouth found her core, his tongue lapping at the wetness that had already formed. He chuckled, causing vibrations to shoot up Y/N’s spine.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re soaking.” She whined in response. His tongue made a slow, tantalizing trail up her core before he settled on sucking that aching spot, instantly bringing her close to the edge. His hands roughly gripped the flesh of her thighs, keeping her spread open to his deliberations. She moaned his name, signaling how close she was to tipping over that blissful edge. He pulled away, causing her hips to buck up at the sudden interruption.

She whined, “Azriel?”

He placed gentle kisses moving up her stomach, hands roughly grabbing her breasts eliciting a gasp from Y/N. His tongue circled her left nipple before sucking on the gentle bud – electrifying her even further.

He pulled away, finally reaching her lips as he devoured her.

“Didn’t I say,” he broke the kiss, “that I would make you beg for mercy?” His lips returned to hers briefly, “that I would remind you of your obstinance?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to say.

“Have you resigned to your fate?” She nodded.

“Good girl,” He whispered.

He pulled back from her, lifting his shirt off and sitting up to undo his pants. She swallowed as her eyes trailed down his body. He was made of pure muscle, tattoos black as night swirling across his torso made his muscular form even more prominent. Her eyes trailed down to his hips, licking her lips involuntarily.

“You’re drooling,” He said.

Her eyes shot back up to his, taking in the amusement written across his face.

“I was not,” She defended herself (rather pathetically). He only hummed, unconvinced and amused at the flustered girl before him.

She looked down at him once he finally revealed himself. Her eyes widened — in fear? Apprehension? She nervously wiggled her hips underneath him, unsure of how he could possibly fit.

“I don’t think—,” She was cut off by Azriel’s dangerously low voice. He leaned down, hot breath trailing up her neck, “You’re gonna take every inch like the good little slut that you are,” He whispered against her and then placed a few burning kisses behind her ear, causing her stomach to churn.

He smirked against her skin, pleased at how timid she suddenly became. He lined himself up against her, Y/N’s breaths now rapid in anticipation. He pushed himself forward, ever so slightly, allowing her to adjust to his tip. Her eyes rolled back at the sudden invasion, unable to control the lewd sounds that came out of her mouth. He pushed in deeper, drawing out another moan from the girl beneath him. She put a hand on his chest to stop him from going deeper, already overwhelmed with a wave of intense pleasure, it rolled through her core and nearly broke her. And this was just the beginning. He leaned his head down, lips finding sensitive spots on her jaw, her neck, trailing down to her collarbone while he waited for her to adjust. She clenched around him involuntarily, eliciting a snarl from the man. His shadows snaked up her legs, holding them apart as he sunk deeper. She gasped as he went deeper, inching closer and closer to her wall. She screamed out in pleasure, legs struggling against the shadows, hips bucking underneath him.

“Az! Please, it’s too much,” She gasped.

He hit her walls, pleased with her loss of composure. He pulled out and with a kiss on her lips, sunk right back in, all in one swift motion that had Y/N gasping for air. He continued to push into her as she writhed and moaned and clawed at him. Her brain had effectively shut off, the only thing she could feel, the only thing she could think about was his cruel, punishing cock pounding in and out of her.

“You were made to take all of me, you know that? The Cauldron created you, just for me,” He growled, punctuating his words with hard thrusts, “To be my plaything, my mate,” another thrust, “I bet you hate the idea of being bred but look at you, your cunt is milking my cock, going against everything you thought you believed in, desperate to be filled with my cum.”

She arched her back as he continued brutalizing her. Overwhelmed, she tried to push him off, give her space to breathe but he responded with shadows snaking up her arms, holding her against the bed, entirely at his mercy. She was fully restrained now, legs held wide apart, arms above her head. Her moans increased in pitch and pace, her body on the brink of total, ecstatic relief. A few tears slipped down her cheeks, Azriel kissed them away as he increased his rhythm. Her mouth agape, in a silent scream as he tore into her.

“Should I let you cum, hm?” He watched her intently, taking in every moan, every whimper, all the ways her face contorted in response to his hands on her body, his cock buried deep inside her.

“You’ve been such a good girl, taking me so well, and you’ve been on edge for weeks now,” He looked at her with a devilish grin. She whimpered.

“Beg for it, baby,” His voice was tauntingly soft. She scrunched her face, unable to make any sound let alone speak as he fucked her. He knew this as he slowed, bringing Y/N ever so slightly down from the high she could almost feel.

“No!” She called out desperately, “please, please Azriel. Don’t stop. I need to cum, please let me cum!” She screamed, her voice hoarse.

He picked up the pace again, rewarding her obedience.

“I’m sure that pretty mouth can do a lot better,” He chastised, “What do you need, Y/N, who do you need?”

“You! I need you Az, please! I need you to make me cum! Please, I’m begging you,” she pleaded.

“Who am I?”

When she didn’t answer, he pushed into her with an especially rough thrust.

“My mate!” She moaned in response.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You! Az, I belong to you!” Her voice strained as she inched painfully close to release.

He groaned as he picked up the pace, at this point Y/N saw stars, her teary eyes shut as Azriel’s final thrusts drove her over the edge, unable to make sound or focus on anything but the excruciating pleasure possessing her body. Her back arched as she panted through her orgasm. She felt a hot release inside her as Azriel groaned against her, his pace slowed and his body going taut as he finished too. The pleasure hadn’t stopped, it rolled through her like aftershocks of an earthquake, drawing out soft whimpers and moans.

“What do you say?” A hand gripped her chin.

“Thank you,” She said meekly.

He smiled and finally pulled out of her. His forehead resting against hers as their breaths came in and out. His arms snaked around her waist as he rolled them over to the side. His wings cocooning over her like a blanket, shadows resting lazily across their bodies. He kissed the top of her head as she snuggled into his chest.

“I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow,” She whimpered.

“Good. It’ll teach you not to mouth off or deny me of what’s mine ever again,” He chuckled against her.

She didn’t have the strength to reply with some witty comment, she merely snuggled in closer, basking in his warmth and drifting off to the most restful sleep she’d ever had.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Azriel woke up to his shadows lazily trailing over his mate’s bare body. He admired her sleeping form, grateful for the moment of peace before he was forced to head off to work. His shadows heard this thought, sulking against her body possessively, unwilling to leave her so soon.

I know, I don’t wanna leave her either.

The shadows tickling her skin caused her to stir but not quite enough to wake up. His face turned stern, the shadows begrudgingly returning back to their master. She’d need her rest for when Azriel returned so he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and hastily wrote a note to explain his absence. The shadows reluctantly followed as Azriel left her room, but they stopped in the kitchen — insistent on starting a pot of coffee to brew along with some sliced fruits they set out on a plate. Azriel chuckled lightly at the shadows' instant attachment and show of affection to his mate.

She’s mine, he teased.

He felt the shadows bounce against his chest, trying to knock him off balance. He shook his head, exiting the apartment with the shadows rushing to keep up behind him.

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar series #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction

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weird-is-life · 2 days

Note

hello! how’s your day?i hope it’s great

can i request something like childhood friend!reader x spencer reid to lover? i love that trope and i always imagine spencer reid in it

perhaps they’ve met again on the case and reader was the victim?

it’s totally fine if you can’t wrote that, have a great day!<3

Hiii lovely🥰, ty so much for this request! I loooved writing this trope. Warnings: like one swear word, little angsty, fluff, pet names, use of y/n, mentions of food, mentions of crime (1.5k)

Spencer and you met by accident after so many years. Spencer couldn't believe his eyes as he saw you walk out of the interrogation room at the Bau.

He didn't understand what his childhood best friend was doing at his workplace office.

Seeing your sorrow expression he didn't need anything else to know that you were one of the many witnesses of the latest series of violent bank robberies.

And it made his heart stop for a second. Wanting to meet you...-wanting to see you again after so many years was always somewhere deep at the back of his mind, but he didn't exactly want to see you walk out out of the interrogation room.

He freezed for a moment. He wasn't expecting to see you there, and it definitely caught him off guard.

You, on the other hand, hoped you'd run into Spencer that day. You knew he worked for the FBI. You maybe even secretly hoped that he'd be the one you'd have to explain what exactly had happened at the bank.

He didn't. So finally seeing him managed to bring a smile to your upset face.

You ignored his lovely colleague Emily as she instructed you on something, and headed straight towards Spencer.

"Spencer, hi, I can't believe it's you," you said breathlessly as you neared him, his eyes scanning you intensively.

Spencer swallowed hard. You two were just some kids the last time you saw each other, but right now....Right now, Spencer couldn't believe his eyes. You might have just been the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.

His shock was even bigger when you threw your arms around his neck, and hugged him sincerely. Spencer, for once, managed to handle the shock, and hugged you back.

It was an effort for you not to end up on the floor from the way your legs almost turned into a jello. When the fuck did Spencer get so hot? That was the only thing on your mind, even the horrors of the roberry gone.

"Hi, it's been so long, too long," Spencer beamed at you, giving you one-over one more time.

"I know," you gave him a small smile," I wanted to reach out to you since I'd moved here a few months ago, but I didn't want to intrude into your life."

"Intrude? You could never," Spencer immediately reassured you, and you didn't look too convinced," seriously, I mean it."

You just nodded, and Spencer asked you, "How have you been? Were-were you a part of some roberry?"

"Y-yeah, it...it wasn't very pretty, I-" you tried to find the right words, but you realised that there were multiple sets of eyes on you and Spencer. He realised it, too.

With his quick thinking, he said, "I'm sorry, my friends can be really nosy," he glared at somebody (Derek) as he said it," would you..- are you hungry?"

"There's a cafeteria a few floors down.....We could talk there? Catch up on everything?" Spencer proposed with a little hope.

"Yeah, I think, I'd like that," you told him, and you let him guide you towards the elevator with his hand on your lower back.

It definitely did not send butterflies down to your belly with every step you took. The old, forgotten feelings flickering inside you both.

That happened a few months ago now, and you couldn't help but to smile as you remembered the meeting while waiting in a small caffè for Spencer to come.

He is running late. You don't mind the wait because you know it's not his fault. His job isn't easy. So waiting the few minutes is worth it.

You and Spencer have been going on these coffee......runs since you've reunited the few months ago. But you keep hoping, wishing that they will turn into coffee dates rather just some friendly coffee runs.

It's save to say that seeing Spencer after so many years made some new feelings surface. Feelings that weren't there before, and you don't know what to do with them.

Well, you do, but you're terrified of the idea of Spencer's rejection. You don't think you'd be able to live in the same city as him if he indeed did reject you.

But you can't keep going out with him, and have him smiling at you like like you're the only person on this earth for him. You just can't keep up with it anymore.

You've decided that today is the day you tell him how you feel. No matter what. Even if it's most likely going to leave you heartbroken.

Spencer pulls you out of your thoughts when he rounds the table you sit at, and leans down to give you a quick hug and a kiss......a kiss on a cheek.

It leaves you breathless, and it's exactly why you need to tell him about your feelings because this is just cruel, sweet torture you can't endure any longer.

"Hi, I'm so sorry I'm late. Hotch had us hand in all of the reports, so I needed to finish a few things," he tells you as he settles in the seat opposite of you.

His coffee is already waiting on the table in front of him, and he gives you a thankful nod.

"It's okay, Spence. I don't mind," you give him a tight smile, the nerves rushing through your body.

Spencer, damn his profiling skills, immediately senses that something is off. "What's wrong?" He reaches across the table for your hand, but you pull it away quickly. You could swear that there was a hurt in his eyes just as you did.

"I-....I need to tell you something," you quickly blurt out.

"You can tell me anything, yeah?" He assures you. This time without trying to touch your hand. You don't look into his eyes while he tries to catch your gaze.

"I can't keep going for a coffee with you anymore."

Spencer now definitely looks hurt after your first sentence, and you cringe. You didn't mean to start like that.

"Shit," you curse quietly," what I mean to tell you is that.......is that-." You can't find the right words.

"I like you, Spencer," you blurt out," mo-more than just a friend." Spencer just looks at you. Completely baffled, and he doesn't utter a single word.

You think he's just a little shocked, but as the minutes go by, and he still doesn't say anything, you understand. He doesn't feel the same, and then there's horror in your eyes.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Spencer," you scramble quickly to take all your stuff," I'm really sorry." And with that, you are out of there faster than a lightning.

You swiftly run out of the caffè as the tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You don't even know where you are going, but you don't care you just want to get as far away from Spencer as possible.

Of course, you don't even take 30 steps before a hand gently catches you by your elbow. You, even just by the touch of his hand, know that it's Spencer.

"Wait," he pleads," please, y/n." You stop, and slowly you turn around. Spencer scans your upset face, the tears on your cheeks, and his own heart breaks.

He didn't mean to stay quiet like that. It just...-It caught him off guard. He wasn't, even in his wildest dreams, thinking of you actually liking him back. Like there wasn't a single reality where he saw that happening. And yet.... And yet, you like him, and he can't believe it.

"It's okay, Spence," you start.

"But it's not, I'm sorry-"

You interrupt him, "I understand that you don't feel the same."

"No, no, sweetheart. I do. I feel exactly the same way you do," he confesses softly, hoping you believe his words after the initial mess up of his.

"Spencer, you don't have to lie....-"

Spencer almost looses it when you say that, because he could never be that cruel to you. Never. And he doesn't get why you don't believe him, so he does something that hopefully will finally let you see the truth.

Spencer kisses you.

Spencer kisses you?

What?

You don't really realise it, until he's pulling away, sorry eyed, his soft, warm lips immediately something you miss. You don't let him get far away from your lips as you crash them again against his. Your one hand goes into his hair, and his hair is just as soft to the touch as it looks like.

Spencer's kiss is intense and gentle at the same time, and it makes your knees buckle, maybe just from the sheer joy of your feelings being reciprocated. You tighten your grip on his shoulder.

Spencer notices it, smiling into the kiss, before he pulls away. There's a happy glint in his eyes, and you are sure yours look the same.

Spencer beams at you. "I'd never lie to you. Ever."

"I know."

You smile sheepishly at him, "I just got too into my head to listen to you. I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Spencer looks at you amused. Right. Of course, he's not sorry about the kiss. And neither are you, you could never be.

Spencer offers you his hand," how about I'll tell you all about how crazy I feel about you while we go for a walk?"

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot, Spencer." The bright smile doesn't leave your or even Spencer's face as you begin to walk.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid

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angstywaifu · 2 days

Text

Is That Blood? - Garrick Tavis

Request - “Is that blood?” “No?” “That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question" I just see all sides of him here with this one lol Requests Open. Masterlist

The walk down the stairs was slow and rough. Every step sending a jolt up my side. I hiss in pain as I step down to a step ever so slightly lower than the other. Damn these stairs up the side of this mountain. I should have called out for help, but the rest of my patrol had rushed off, eager to get to bed after a long day. None of them aware I had been injured in the group of Venin we had encountered. Luckily the knife that had been imbedded in my side had not gone in far. But enough I needed medical attention. And this late at night I knew there would be no healers awake. Guess a home DIY job would have to do till morning.

I finally stumble into the courtyard, my footsteps echoing louder than normal as I make my way over to another set of stairs. At least this time I would have a wall to brace against on my way up. I was honestly surprised I hadn’t fallen to my death as I’d hobbled down the others. With one hand braced on the wall, I start my ascent up to the fifth floor where my room was located in the barracks. After a few steps, I realise up was a lot harder than going down. Every time I raise my left leg, I can’t help the groan that escapes my lips. Only four more floors of this. Great.

My foot catches on one of the stairs, sending me sprawling forward as I brace myself on my hands and knees as I land on the landing. Least I hadn’t landed on more stairs. Bracing myself on the wall, I manage to pull myself upright before leaning against it and shutting my eyes. Breath in. Breath out. I can do this. Only three more floors to go. I push off the wall and open my eyes to continue my journey, but a figure in the archway leading towards the family quarters has me jumping back, a yelp escaping my lips. The figure steps forward into the moonlight illuminating the stairway through an open window. I should have known who it was without it. No one was as tall or big as he was, even his curly hair recognisable in the dark. Garrick. His eyes furrow as they look over me, before focusing where my hand clutches my side.

”Is that blood?” He asks me gruffly as he steps forward again.

I look down to see my fingers are stained red from where blood has seeped through. Shit.

”No?” I say, it coming out as more of a question than an answer.

Garrick cock’s his eyebrow at me. “That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question.”

”Maybe I’m starting a new trend?” I say with a sheepish grin.

I can instantly tell Garrick is not impressed with my answer with the deadpan look he gives me, his tell-tale jaw tick indicating his annoyance. But I can see him fighting a smile as the corners of his mouth ever so slightly curl at the edges.

”And how’s that going for you?” He asks before bending down and scooping me up into his arms before walking us up the stairs.

I brace for the pain to worsen with my wound pressed up against Garrick, but it doesn’t. If anything, the pain lessens. I look up at him confused, but Garrick’s stare is set firmly ahead as he walks us up the stairs.

”It’s going great, can’t you tell.” I huff as I settle into his arms, laying my head on his shoulder.

”Oh I can tell. Cause bleeding all over the stairs is the epitome of great.” His tone a mix of joking and serious.

”I was not bleeding all over the stairs. I had it contained.” I mutter.

I feel Garrick’s chest rise with silent laughter, containing his usual booming laugh as we walk into a corridor that does NOT lead to my room. My room was another two floors up. Where the hell was he taking me? He walks us past the assigned rooms and through an archway to another area of Riorson House. More private rooms. He pushes open a door and instantly I’m hit with Garrick’s scent. This was his room. Just like most Rider’s rooms it was pretty bare, only the necessities, but there were little bits of Garrick here and there. I barely get to take in the room before he’s kicking the main door closed and walking me towards an archway. He quickly places me on the counter in the adjoining bathroom, before walking back into his room. He returns quickly with a first aid kit, already pulling out bandages, cleaning supplies and some needle and thread.

”Take you’re jacket off.” He mumbles as he starts to set up his supplies.

I shrug off the jacket as best as I can, the pain now returning now I wasn’t in Garrick’s arms. He quickly grabs my flight jacket, placing it on an empty hook on the wall. I can’t help but wince as he gently lifts my shirt to observe the wound. I look down to see the skin around the would red and irritated, a slight purple colour to the edges. The knife had been coated in something. Garrick must have the same thought as he rushes from the room, quickly returning with a vial he holds out to me. A silent command to drink it, which I do quickly.

”Of course you would manage this after every healer here has gone to bed, and Brennan is away.” He mutters as he starts to clean the wound with a cloth and water.

”Not exactly like I planned for this to happen while out on patrol.” I tell him, wincing as cleans the edges of the cut.

He just shakes his head at me before grabbing the needle and thread from the counter. I turn away, opting to not look at Garrick stitch me back together. Sure I could do it to myself, but there was something about watching someone else do it that always made me uneasy. I brace for the all too familiar sting of the needle piercing the skin as Garrick places a hand just next to the wound. But it doesn’t come. All I can feel is a slight tug. Strange. I turn my head to look, and sure enough Garrick is stitching up the wound. But no pain. Not a single bit. And I know Garrick didn’t have anything to numb it. The vial he had given me was to treat the poison we knew the Venin used. It had no numbing or healing qualities to it. Was this his signet? I try to think of any instance of Garrick using a signet, and come up blank. In all the years I’ve known him, not once have I seen him do anything that could be explained by a signet. Till now. As if reading my mind, he removes his hand to help tie off the last stitch, and immediately I’m hit with the familiar dull throb of pain I associate with being stitched together. Garrick is silent as he starts to pack away the first aid kit, holding the bandage out to me to take. I grab it and quickly wrap it around myself, holding the padding in place in case any blood decided to seep through before I got to the healers in the morning. I place my hands on the counter to push myself off, planning on heading back to my room to sleep. But before I can Garrick scoops me up in his arms again, silently carrying me back to his room and placing me on his bed.

”If you just wanted me in your bed Garrick, all you had to do is ask.” I tease as he sits on the edge next to me.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head, replying, "You're insufferable, you know that? Now get some rest. I'll get you to a healer in the morning." He stands up, but not before giving my hand a comforting squeeze.

Exhaustion pulls at me, but I manage a grin. "Only for you, Garrick." I murmur as I let sleep claim me. Garrick laughs softly at that, a sound that brings a strange sense of comfort. He watches over me for a moment longer before finally turning out the light and leaving me to rest.

#fourth wing fanfic #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis #fourth wing #the fourth wing #fourth wing x reader

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dronebiscuitbat · 3 days

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 16)

They had done a decent job hiding this all from Khan until this point. The man had been busy fixing a malfunctioning main door and she had gotten quite good at hiding things from him. However that had to end when she was going to be forced to spend at least a couple of days staying in N's apartment, looking after his new daughter.

Khan decidedly did not need to know that her name was also on those adoption papers, and the longer she could keep that hidden the better, as much as N was someone she could let her guard down around, the same couldn't be said about the rest of the bunker, there were already rampant rumors flying around the bunker about her and N, not helped by them walking together with a baby to his apartment she was sure. She didn't need to give them any more fuel.

So now she was near the front of the bunker, looking for her dad to break the news that yes, N did end up adopting the baby they'd literally just told him he wasn't like… a few days ago.

She was sure that conversation was going to go well.

“Dad?” She called out, her voice echoing out in the much larger hall, absent of other people. At this hour, most sane people would be asleep, but not her, and it would likely be a little bit before her old man would want to stop working, that was one of the few things they shared; when a task needed to be done, neither of them stopped until their bodies demanded it.

“Here dronelette!” His voice came from above, and so her head turned towards it, only to find Khan awkwardly wrapped around a pipe, tightening a gasket on Door 2, honestly it almost looked like one of the weird ass positions she would take while writing something that caught her attention.

“How did you even get up there?” She asked, looking around for any evidence of a ladder or a stool and found neither.

“I scaled the pipes! What? Didn't think your old man could climb?” He chuckled lightly without loosing focus, tongue sticking out of his mouth as his eyelights scrunched up

“Uh no, actually.” Was all she said, watching as he worked for another minute before he wiped the nonexistent sweat of his brow and looked down.

Then with a semi-impressive level of balance and grace, jumped down from the rather high ceiling, using the other pipes as monkey bars before landing safely at her side.

Only to wince as his joints made a rather concerning noise.

“Agh, so it's been awhile…” He chuckled again, although this time a little sadly before turning to his daughter with a smile that seemed genuine.

“What did you need?” He asked, and Uzi shook off the strange feeling of awe watching her dad do something that was actually sort of risky like it was normal for him.

Only for it to be replaced by the nervousness of the reason she'd actually sought him out. Great…

“Uh yeah. I was just letting you know I need to stay over at N's tonight…”

Khan looked confused, but a smile still graced his face.

“Is that all? You normally wouldn't come find me for something small like that.”

“And… for possibly the next few days?” She finished, at which then Khan’s face fell, becoming more confused and a little concerned.

“Why's that? N's not sick is he? Can murder drones even get sick…?”

“No! He's fine, well mostly. It's just he needs my help with… uh something.” She was trying to avoid the inevitable. She knew playing the pronoun game with her dad was a habit, but one she'd only truly win if she had a door to slam in his face.

“Which is?” She winced, sweat appearing on her visor as she grinned warily, shifting her fingers together nervously.

“N ended up… adopting Tera. And he needs my help in taking care of her until he gets everything ready for her.”

Khan’s jaw was on the floor, put of all thing he'd expected out of his daughters mouth that was… not at the top of the list; along with “Bite me” or “Mind your freaking business.”

“He told me he wasn't going to.”

“He wasn't, but… Tera has an overheating issue and no one else seemed to want to deal with it.” She tried to explain without concerning him further.

Khan didn't say anything, so she felt the urge to continue impulsively.

“We talked about it, and we agreed that Mrs Rayn is a little too old to raise a baby. And We have a lot of experience with overheating… with him getting his new apartment, we thought…” She stopped suddenly. Realizing she had gone from talking about N to talking about them. As a unit.

“We?”

“I-uh yeah, he talked to me about it first and I talked him through it all to make sure he was serious about it. I-I'm not on the papers or anything!”

She probably could have omitted that last part, but the way Khan was looking at her was making the usually rather quiet part of her brain requiring his approval speak up slightly louder.

She wasn't sure Khan entirely believed her, squinting at her with extreme suspicion, she glanced to the side, eyeing the way she came as if she regreted the entire trek up here.

“If you're just doing it to help them settle in. Wouldn't that only take a few hours? Or a day?” He began again slowly, still processing the sudden information.

“Normally, and that was the plan. But uh, he lacks the hardware to take care of her properly.”

“Rayn should have given him the cable and the bottles, what do you-”

“He doesn't have a side panel.” She interrupted him blunty, pausing whatever he was about to say next

Khan was quiet.

“What?”

“No, you didnt mishear me. He doesn't have a side panel.”

“Everyone has one.”

“He doesn't.”

Khan blinked before he sighed heavily, thinking deeply on everything that was just discussed. He felt one of his hands start shaking, but he gripped it to make it stop.

“I had about the same reaction, but it makes sense, why would a disassembly drone ever need that kind of hardware?”

He nodded at that, before a different thought entered his head entirely.

“How do they raise their kids then?”

At that Uzi paused, she knew N's background, how he used to be a worker drone and had never been a pillbaby. So that thought had simply never entered her mind, but it did get her thinking…

Could N even pass down his code at all? Did it work the same way as with worker drones?

And if it did, what would his kids even look like? White eyelights? Yellow? Would they carry the same traits as a disassembly drone or would they just remain a worker drone?

“I don't think they do…” She answered, she didn't want to expose too much of N's past, that wasn't her story to tell, but her dad had been being… more tolerable as of late. “N was a worker drone before he became… what he is now. So I think all that hardware was removed.”

“He was? What did he used to do?” He asked, head tilted to the side.

“He…” She paused for a moment, deciding if N would mind if she said anything, he was pretty sensitive about his time at the manor; she decided giving him the very basics was enough. “He was a butler, he had white eyelights.”

“White. Huh.”

At that the conversation stagnated, and Uzi sighed, beginning to walk away.

“Now that you know, can I uh… go?” She gestured in the direction she was currently going, clearly not waiting for his answer as Khan seemed to be frozen, processing all of this information.

But he nodded, dumbly. And she took that as her que to book it, not stopping until she was certain that even if her dad wanted to catch up, she'd be long gone. Perfect for making an undetected journey back.

She didn't take the normal way back to N's apartment either, trying to avoid more stares from more judgemental faces, it was somehow worse now than it ever was, at least before they'd done it quietly, too scared to be noticed by her and be met with violence, but they seemed to sniff out her now softened edges, because now some drones didn't bother to hide it.

“Looks like the freak found a boy toy.”

“Of course she'd be freinds with a murder drone, she's all kinds of gross.”

“You think she let's him bite her? She's probably into it…”

One of those came from Lizzy, which was honestly so typical she barely even registered it. (Although she hadn't said anything in awhile, V probably had something to do with that.) But the other two, the one about N being a boy toy and her letting him bite her, were new, and came from a brand new mouth.

She wasn't sure if this particular girl had a thing for N, because both of those were rather strange places for someone's mind to default to, but whatever the case she'd made comments like that rather often, her name was… Chloe? That sounded right.

She was quiet before, Uzi thought, because she was a brand new face and voice for her, orange eyelights and rich black hair that went down to her shoulders. But that was literally the only thing Uzi could remember about her.

And the only reason she hadn't bitten back when she'd heard it was because N had been next to her, oblivious to it all, walking back to her place after the craziness that was prom. She'd also been tired, injured, and freaked out, but those things didn't stop her nearly as much as N's presence.

N didn't deserve that ridicule, not in the least. He was the sweetest guy on the entirety of Copper-9. And yet those comments were derogatory to him too, essentially calling him easy, for Uzi to be able to “get him.”

First. Ew, Not that Uzi wasn't attracted to him, she was. (Not like she was ever going to say anything.) But talking about anyone like that was gross, and this was N, Her best freind.

Second. How dare she drag his name in the dirt with her! She could drag Uzi's name around all she wanted, it would just be treading old ground. But N? He'd done nothing to Chloe, except maybe make her feel things? She didn't know, those comments were so weird and uncomfortable.

She pushed out the thoughts from her mind when she reached N's door, partly thankful for her switch to being a night owl, she rarely saw any of her classmates anymore, except Thad. And when she did it was incredibly brief, when she was turning in her work.

Because yes, she was still going to school. She just did all of her work at home. What else was she supposed to do after murdering half her class? V had taken the blame, but that didn't mean everyone else didn't know the real culprit.

The door swished open, revealing N still on the couch, watching Tera as she rolled around playing with her jingling roll toy, he smiled when he looked up at her, worry leaving his visor somewhat.

“What'd he say?” He asked, motioning her to sit across from him, which she did, her eyes going back to Tera, who rolled over to her, jingling all the way.

“I mean, he asked a bunch of questions. But he didn't stop me sooo…” She flashed him a smirk and he felt his eyes roll, even still his smile didn't leave, instead he tried to relax, keeping an eye on the pillbaby as Uzi picked her up, looking down at her with a small smile.

“She's getting sleepy… do you know where that charger went?” N looked over and noticed that Tera's eyes were substantially dimmer, as well as her normal rolling had slowed down.

He plucked the charger put of the bag and handed it to her, and Uzi began the process of lifting her hoodie and undershirt enough to plug it into herself, thankfully, this didn't time it didn't seem to be painful.

She plugged the normally excitable rolling machine into her side and her eyes immediately brightened, and Uzi's visor immediately filled with a warning, telling her a foreign entity was drawing her power.

She closed it instantly, old JCJenson warnings that no longer applied. The pop-ups were still annoying regardless.

“There you go, happy now?” She asked the infant as if she could respond, and she did, by rolling into Uzi's chest and yawning, before quickly falling into sleep mode.

N just watched, smile never once fading from his face. He'd known that he rather liked seeing Uzi interact with Tera, as she was normally at her softest. But with that added context that this was now his daughter she was interacting with left him with his core full of fuzzy cotton.

“You're really good at that.” He pointed out as Uzi tried to get get comfortable with a baby attached to her, though it was rather difficult, as the cord was quite short and didn't leave much room to menuver.

But she still looked up at him, a small blush on her face that he caught a glimpse of before she turned away.

“Just practice is all.” She waved off, finally giving up on being comfortable and just sitting awkwardly stuffed into the couch with Tera laying on her stomach.

“You're still amazing at this. I would be totally freaking put right now without you being here.” He admitted, trying to make her take the compliment without waving it off, it was probably never going to happen though.

“Your instincts would have kicked in, and you'd get all fatherly on her without my help.” She laughed, and put a hand over Tera to steady her, as the action disturbed her slightly.

“Seriously, you're way better at this then you think you are.” She hummed, presumably to get him to shush about it.

At that moment Tera became unplugged, starting her into a fall off Uzi, rolling off and beginning to plumet to the hardwood floor, N immediately rocketed forward, catching the little pill before she ever touched the ground, even if it left him in the rather awkward position of his legs still on the couch as the rest of him was on the floor.

Tera giggled sleepily before going back into sleep mode, satisfied with her mischief.

“See? You already have the reflexes.” Uzi pointed out and caused N to look back at the pillbaby with a smile.

Maybe he could be alright at this after all.

#murder drones #biscuitbites #nuzi #uzi doorman #serial designation n #n and uzi #Uzi gets all her attitude from Nori #but all her gremlin energy from Khan #Khan is trying his best

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bengals-barnesbabe · 1 day

Text

You're My Mission

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Black!FemReader

Warnings: smut, Bucky Barnes (I said what I said), violence, jealousy, (this was written during quarantine).

Word Count: 1.3k

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

“It’s a simple extraction, find the target, distract, disable and get them out unharmed.” Only Tony Stark would think it was that easy.

“Who’s the target?” Bucky asks.

“We have to assume they aren’t working alone, so it’ll be all of us plus a Strike team on clean up.” The genius continued.

“Who’s the target, Stark?” Bucky asks again. He just got in from a 3 day mission in the jungle where he sweated in places he’d rather not describe. The second he walked onto the tarmac he was rushed into a briefing for a ‘last minute’ mission that was apparently so urgent they needed all the help they could get.

“I’ll be in the sky disabling all communication, Cap handles their partner working on the outside, Barnes’ job is distraction along with backup and Widow will engage with the target.”

“Who’s the target?” The roughness of his voice urging them to get this over with, but no one speaks up. He’s had his head down the entire time so when he finally looks up no one is watching him. In fact they’re avoiding his glance.

“We leave for Saint Petersburg in 15, grab what you need and load up.” Stark finishes but no one moves. There’s only one person, one woman he can think of that requires this much skill and muscle to capture. After his question goes unanswered for the third time, there’s no doubt in his mind that they’re going after her after 4 years on the run. On the run from him.

Bucky turns his chair to face his longtime friend. “Who’s the target Steve?” The man couldn’t lie to him to save his life, they’d known each other for too long and his spy skills just amplified it.

The blonde sighs then looks back at his friend. “You know.”

Bucky looks over at Natasha and her silence agrees with him. “I’m going in.” Then he walks out.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You spotted him, your target. It wasn’t hard, he was surrounded by half of the restaurant.

None of them registered as a threat, so the mission was easy. Your partner had already stolen the files you needed, all that was left was the head.

You threw back the rest of your liquor and stood up brushing your dress. It was very uncomfortable, but you felt great in it. You played the part of seductress well, your figure doing most of the work and the amount of cleavage you’d shown without needing supporting help. But you also hated the demeaning part, but it’s part of the mission. And you always finish the mission.

You flashed a determined look and started strutting towards the man, but a bulky figure steps in your way.

“You know drinking on the job is frowned upon.”

The one time you think you’re alone.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

The Winter Soldier always loved the chase and you loved to be chased, when you worked for the same side. Hydra’s secret weapon and the Red Room’s second best widow. It was no secret that Natalia would always be Dreykov’s favorite but when she left him you stepped up in ways she never could.

You were a team, you and the soldat, he was your everything until one day he left and never came back. Then next time you saw him was when you were posing as a member of SHIELD, still carrying out orders from your superiors and collecting as much information on the Avengers as possible. You never expected to find him there, sitting- smiling with others, with her. His hair seemed the same length, but he glowed with independence.

So just like you infiltrated the agency you worked yourself back into his life. You fell for him and he fell even harder, but after a year it was your turn to leave and never come back.

When she dismantled the only home you knew and exposed you to the truth, you ran. You didn’t want to work for any man, unless the pay was worth it. So the KGB was out, SHIELD not an option, MI6 not your speed, so the only thing left was to go private and boy was it fun. You worked for who you wanted, with who you wanted, when and for as much money as you wanted; everyone knew who you were and didn’t hesitate to make the call, you were that good.

I didn’t take long to figure out that your favorite soldier was after you, how could it when he traveled with heroes in spandex and billionaires in giant machines. But just like in the Red Room, you were always at least one step ahead of him. You even faked your death once or twice because it was fun to watch him squirm. Then he stopped, a part of you mourned the cat and mouse dance but all good things must come to an end. You made yourself a ghost. Until now.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

“I ain’t a lightweight.” It’d been so long since you stepped on their soil that the accent needed a bit of work.

“Oh you’re a New Yorker now? Baby if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked.” His left hand caresses your waist and his right leads you to the dance floor. One heavier than the other, but both madly familiar with your body.

“James I have a job to do, let me go.” His grip on you caused the Russian to seep out.

“Детка, не сопротивляйся.” (Baby don’t struggle.)

“Отпустите!” (Let me go!)

He held your hips tighter, and his lips dipped to your ear. “Я думаю, твой парень ушел.” (I think your guy is gone.)

You yanked your head away from the soldier and looked back at your target. But instead you found The Black Widow sipping on a martini.

She waved and sent a wink in your direction. It was a trap.

“Дамиан входи.” You said into your ear piece. You wanted to sound anxious but the words bled annoyance. It was his fault, you were hired to pair up for this. They needed a distraction and someone to pull the trigger, but this was Damian’s mission and he’s always been sloppy.

(Damian, come in.)

In response, ‘highway to hell’ bursted through in full volume. You yanked it out then turned towards the soldier.

“Что ты хочешь?” (What do you want?)

“For you to come home, любовь.” He took a step forward and you took one back. (Love.)

“Not with you, you chose your place and I have mine. Just leave me alone.” You pushed past him, only for him to grab you again.

“Stop manhandling me.” You huffed.

“Why, you used to love it?” He smirked. “The way you moaned with my lips on your neck constantly marking you as mine. The way you begged for me to fuck you. I always loved the way you begged for my cock.” Your legs tremble and panties dampen, you hated the way your body betrayed you against his words.

“Awww it’s still there. Tell me do you miss the way I filled you up? The way I had you shaking just from my fingers. Or did you like me more when my tongue was deep in your pussy? You always tasted so damn sweet, you always made me want more. Remember we could go for hours without stopping. You were such a good little slut for daddy.”

Your knees locked as his voice filled with lust clouding your vision. You grabbed onto his muscular body. You hated to admit it, but you needed him.

“But you are on your own path now, so I guess we won’t be having that little reunion.” He stepped out of your grasp and turned to leave.

“Подождите!” He paused and a smirk grew on his stubbled face. (Wait!)

“Ты мне нужен, Джеймс.” He let out a dark chuckle, you could feel your arousal build up daring to leak down your thighs. (I need you, James.)

“я знал, что ты скучал по мне.”

(I knew you missed me.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

like, comment and reblog for more :)

taglist is open!

#black reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #black widow!reader #bengals barnesbabe #marvel mcu #mcu fic #alternate universe #jealousy

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ltash · 1 day

Text

Bleeding Love

You saw Ghost breaking infront of everybody for you.

I'm coiled up like a venomous serpant

Tangled in your heart and I'm certain

You've got your hooks in me.

I coughed and opened my eyes, feeling the oxygen tubes attached to my nostrils. "Help!" I croaked painfully, my voice barely above a whisper. The machine beside me beeped loudly as my heartbeat quickened.

The door opened, and a nurse rushed in with a doctor. I went into a panic attack.

"Simon!" I called his name, desperation seeping into my voice.

The doctors injected something into my IV to stabilize me, but tears continued to cascade down my cheeks.

"Simon!" I called again, my voice breaking.

As the sedative took effect, my breathing slowed, and I drifted into a deep sleep.

I don't know how much time had passed when I woke up again. This time, someone was holding my hand.

"Nora," I heard him say, his gloved hand caressing my skin. I looked at him.

"Simon." My voice broke.

It was hard to breathe as I had direct trauma to my chest and belly. I wheezed with each breath.

Simon stood up and took me into an embrace lifting me off the bed slightly.

He squeezed my hand gently. "I am here, luvvie. Don't be afraid. Nothing will happen to you."

I wanted to talk, but he stopped me.

"Ssh! You need rest, love. Don't talk." He nodded reassuringly.

I closed my eyes, feeling a bit more at ease with him there. He stayed with me the whole day, never leaving my side.

Later, Captain Price and Soap visited me. Soap had a bandage over his arm and head, clearly having been through his own ordeal.

"How are you holding up, Nora?" Captain Price asked gently.

I managed a weak smile. "I've been better, Captain."

Soap stepped closer, trying to lighten the mood. "You've got the whole team worried about you, you know. Even Ghost here hasn't left your side."

Ghost squeezed my hand, his silence more comforting than words.

Captain Price nodded. "You just focus on getting better. We'll handle everything else."

I glanced at Simon, his eyes never leaving mine. "Thank you, all of you," I whispered.

"We're a team, Nora," Soap said. "And we'll get through this together."

Captain Price gave a reassuring nod. "Rest now. We'll be right here when you need us."

At night, I was feeling much better but still sore. A nurse came to change the bandage on my thigh.

"We need to change the dressing once a day," she said. "You need to change into a fresh pair of clothes, ma'am."

I looked at Simon. He knew I had no clothes of my own there. He went out and came back with military clothes of my size and an oversized T-shirt of his own.

I went to the bathroom and washed my face. The realization that I lost my pregnancy hit me hard. I changed into the fresh clothes he brought me and sat on the hospital bed. Simon was not in the room.

I went into shock right away, my hands trembling, my eyes watery as I sat there silently gazing into the air. Simon came into the room, dressed in the same blue jeans and hoodie with his tactical vest and the skull mask.

"We caught El Sin Nombre. It's a woman," he said.

I did not reply, instead looking into the air.

"Nora!" he called me.

I didn’t reply.

"Nora! Say something," he insisted.

I blinked, my voice barely a whisper. Simon. Our baby is gone."

Tears streamed down my face. "How can I move on from this?"

"How can I move on from this, Simon?" I asked again, my voice trembling. "When I needed you the most, you weren't there."

I stood up, my legs shaky, and walked towards him, looking up to face him. "You weren't fucking there when I needed you." I put my finger on his chest, my voice filled with pain and anger. "Soap couldn't protect me. He tried his best. You had one job, Simon Riley, and you failed miserably at that."

Simon clenched his jaw, his eyes darkening. "I left Johnny fucking MacTavish to care for you, but he couldn't do that. I will kill him," he snapped, turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

"No! You won't touch him," I shouted, following him out of the room and into the corridor.

He didn't listen. He kept walking, his pace quick and determined. My body was so sore and weak, but I still managed to follow him outside.

"Simon, stop!" I called out, my voice hoarse. "You can't blame him for this."

He spun around, his eyes blazing. "Then who should I blame, Nora? Myself? I can't lose you. I can't lose anything more."

Simon turned around again, rage burning inside him. I knew he was going to beat the hell out of Johnny.

I saw Johnny standing with Gaz, talking to him. He saw Ghost approaching and knew something was really wrong and he was going to be answerable.

"Hey, LT!" Johnny greeted, but he was met with a punch to his face. He fell to the ground.

"LT, what the fuck!" Johnny exclaimed, stunned.

Gaz stepped forward, trying to intervene.

"Bloody hell, Johnny!" Ghost spat, his chest heaving with rage.

I approached Ghost, my fists clenched. Putting my hand on his chest, I pushed him. My hand flew into the air as I slapped Ghost hard across his face. My fingers landed on his masked jaw and I regretted because it hurt aftwards.

"Enough!" I yelled, my voice echoing across the base.

All the soldiers, including Alejandro and Rodolfo, glanced at each other, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern.

Ghost looked away before turning back to me. He was shocked, caught off guard by the slap. I didn't want to hit him in front of everyone, but I couldn't stand seeing Johnny being blamed for something that wasn't his fault.

"Simon Riley! You have disappointed me," I spat. "Who the hell are you to blame Johnny for what happened to me? The last thing I wanted to see is you two fighting because of me."

Ghost's eyes widened, pain and regret flickering across his face.

"You are a jealous prick, Lieutenant Riley," I continued, my voice trembling with anger. "You know, you should have let me die there. Why did you even save me when you had already failed to protect me?" I barked, my voice echoing through the tense silence.

Ghost's jaw tightened, his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and frustration. "Nora, I—"

"Don't!" I cut him off, tears streaming down my face. "Don't try to justify it. You weren't there when I needed you the most."

The soldiers around us stood frozen, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Johnny, still holding his bruised jaw, looked between us with concern.

Ghost took a step closer, his voice low and strained. "Nora, I didn't know. I thought leaving Johnny was the best way to protect you. I was wrong. I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, unable to hold back my sobs. "Sorry won't fix this, Simon. Sorry won't bring back our baby."

He flinched as if struck, the weight of my words sinking deep into his soul. "I know," he whispered. "I know, and I'll carry that guilt for the rest of my life. But please, let me be there for you now."

"I don't need anyone now," I said, my voice trembling with anger and sorrow. "I fought for myself when my office burned in front of me. When I was dragged by those dogs, I was all alone. When they crushed my spirit, I was all alone."

With that, I took out the Beretta resting in his chest holster, switching off the safety.

I put the barrel to my temple.

"Let me die and get this over with. I don't want to live in this nightmare anymore. At least I will reunite with my father."

"Nora! Please don't. Please, please, my love, don't do this." Ghost pleaded, his voice breaking in front of everyone.

"Don't come close, or I will pull the trigger," I warned, my eyes wild with despair.

"Please, don't do this. Please!" His voice broke with emotion as he fell to his knees in front of me, his hands in surrender. "Please, babe! Please forgive me."

His desperate plea cut through the haze of my pain. I could see the agony in his eyes, the guilt, and the fear. It was a raw, unfiltered emotion that matched my own.

"Simon, you don't understand," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "I've lost everything. I can't go on like this."

"Let me die, please," I pleaded through my tears.

"No, love. Please," Ghost's voice cracked, and for the first time, I saw him break. Tears streamed down the skull mask he wore, his shoulders shaking with emotion.

Then he cried, cried like a little kid when he had lost his mother, his whole family.

"I have lost everyone, Nora! I don't want to lose you. I can't do this anymore without you," he confessed between sobs.

Captain Price, Alejandro, Soap, and Gaz looked on in shock. They had never seen Simon break like that before. The stoic soldier they knew was crumbling before their eyes, his vulnerability laid bare for all to see.

My hands trembled as I let the gun fall to the ground. Walking toward him, I fell to my knees and embraced him tightly.

He rested his chin on my shoulder, his sobs muffled against my skin. He whimpered when he cried like a little kid which broke my heart. I had never seen a man crying like this my whole life.

"I love you, Nora. I can't live without you. I'm so tired," he whispered tightening his arms around me.

"I can't either," I sobbed. "Sshh, it's okay," I reassured him, gently stroking his back.

"I'm so sorry, Simon. I wasn't myself."

"Promise me you won't do that again," he said, looking into my eyes.

I touched my forehead to his. "Never. I will never do this again. I promise."

We stayed like that for a while when he stood up keeping me in his embrace and lifting me up in his arms.

I heard Captain Price clear his throat. Simon let me go slowly.

"If you two love birds are done we have some interrogation to proceed with." Captain Price smiled looking at me.

"I will be back. Go and rest Nora." He kissed me on my forehead before picking up his gun from the ground.

"That hurt bad." He pointed towards his cheek and winked before turning to go.

#cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #ghost x you #task force 141 #task force x reader

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mingisdoll · 2 days

Text

New concepts

I've been wanting to write this type of fic for a while now and I'm so excited to present it to you all! So here's this

Trope: producer!Hongjoong x composer!gn!reader

@newworldnet

@blossomnet

Nervous would be an understatement. Your hands were clammy as you clutched the small briefcase in your hand. Breathing in and out slowly, you walked into the pristine studio, momentarily distracted by the way it way set up before you regained focus and continued walking to the assigned room you were supposed to meet Hongjoong in.

Hongjoong's POV

I was talking with Mingi and Maddox, two members of my trusted team that Eden had put together for me when I was younger. They were just as nervous as I was when they heard that the famous y/n would come in and help us out with some new songs. Despite me not showing it, I was gettting anxious. Y/n has won academy awards for their illustrious film scores and the occasional orchestral pieces they have composed for Seoul's orchestra. A lot of media painted them as someone who is strict as hell and will only take up jobs that are deemed worthy to them.

I picked up my water bottle and I was about to take a sip when I heard a knock on our door. Mingi, being the loud motherfucker that he is, shouted for the person on the other side to entire. I froze momentarily as they walked in and thanked Mingi shyly for being granted entry.

To say that they were mesmerizing would be an understatement.

Black hair swept up and styled into a single braid, a small briefcase being clutched tightly against their chest, and warm brown eyes that scanned the room like a hawk before landing their gaze onto me.

I think I was frozen in my seat.

No one's POV

As you scanned the room, your eyes landed on Hongjoong, who was frozen in his seat and the water bottle in his ringed hand was positioned for him to drink from it. You took notice of the black nail polish that was on his pinky and you bashfully looked down at your own pinky that had blue nail polish on it.

You really took up after your ult bias after all.

"Hi. I'm Y/N. I look forward to working with you."

Mingi was screaming around in excitement while Maddox simply smiled at his friend before nodding politely towards you in acknowledgement. Hongjoong placed the water bottle down on the table next to him and stood up slowly from his seat as he strided over to you. You took the time to assess the outfit that he put together.

He looked good. As always.

"Hi. I'm Hongjoong. I'm sure you know about us." He introduced himself shyly and you couldn't help but giggle at his shyness.

"You're the only kpop group I listen to on a daily basis. Hope that helps."

"WOW! REALLY?! THANK YOU!"

Mingi strided over to your and gave you a big hug which elicited another giggle from you.

If Hongjoong could, he could record your giggles and play them on a loop so he had something to listen to when he needed to take away some stress.

"Since you listen to Ateez, who do you bias?" Maddox asked you.

"Easy. I bias Hongjoong. In fact, I ult him." You say instantly.

Hongjoong felt the breath being knocked out of his chest.

You, a famous film score composer, ulted him, a member of the biggest boyband and the most credited producer.

He felt like he accomplished a lifelong goal.

He smiled his famous endearing smile and stuck out a hand for you to shake. You took it and shook it before letting go.

"We're going to have a lot of fun together."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was over a few months ago. From that faithful day, you met up with Hongjoong in his studio and discussed ideas for potential instrumentals that the both of you wanted to produce/compose. You were currently taking a break. Mingi lost a bet and he had to go buy food for all of you. As you sipped on your iced coffee, you saw Hongjoong staring at you with such admiration and

Was that a hint of love in his eyes?

"I have to ask. What made you want to take up composition? Based on the knowledge I have, you used to be a violin player. You were a maestro even! The youngest maestro of them all! So why did you switch gears?"

You've been asked this question millions of times but with Hongjoong, it was out of curiosity rather than something he needed to write for a tabloid or blog. His eyes were full of wonder as he leaned in slightly to indicate that he was listening carefully. He was bouncing both legs and he had his arms crossed.

His pretty smile never left his face.

"I've been performing for so long that at one point in my career, it became so dull. It was also a hassle as well. Wake up, practice, practice, practice, take a break, practice, practice, practice, go home, practice, practice, practice, then sleep. It sucked out my passion for music and I wanted to give up at one point. On top of that, I was going to school as well so it was more stressful for me. During one semester, I was taking a film score class and that's when I realized something."

Hongjoong kept listening to you.

"I have a knack for writing music. My theory wasn't bad and I found myself cranking out so many melodies that I didn't realize I had stuck in my brain until I wrote it on paper. Now I only ever pick up my violin if I wanted to hear how the melody sounded and if it sounded good or not."

"Ahh. I see. So you only ever use your violin to see how a melody would sound from an orchestral perspective?"

"Pretty much. Also, I do that since I have bad speakers and I can't play back anything I've composed."

"Really?!"

His eyes went wide with surprise and you nodded bashfully before looking away.

"Most of the speakers I found were either too big to fit onto my desk or too expensive. And the studio apartment I live in doesn't exactly have the cheapest rent so yeah."

Hongjoong frowned for a moment before a bright expression came onto his face. He sprang up from his seat and went into some random corner of the room, digging through a crate full of supplies before walking back to where you were seated and dropping something into your empty hands.

"Here. These speakers still work. They're perfect to fit onto your desk and you can play back your tracks without any worries."

Your eyes widened at the sight of these small speakers that apparently had a big impact on the sound quality. You set the speakers down gently and sprang up from your own seat to pull Hongjoong into a hug.

"Thank you so much." You say happily and Hongjoong chuckled before kissing the side of your head.

"You're welcome, Y/N.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A month had passed and the song that you and Hongjoong were working on not only reached a billion streams on Spotify but it also won you a few awards. As you were celebrating your victory with the rest of Ateez, Hongjoong pulled you aside and brought into a hug.

"We couldn't have done this without you."

"Same here."

A comfortable silence hung between the two of you and you saw him momentarily stare at your lips before looking back at you.

"May I...?"

You nodded shyly before finding yourself kissing the love of your life.

The kiss only lasted for a while before he pulled away and caressed your cheekbone with his thumb.

"I've been wanting to do that for the longest time."

"I guess it's safe to say that you & I have feelings for each other."

"That we do." He kissed your lips once more.

"Will you be mine...?"

#newworldnet #blossomnet #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader

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ponyosmom35 · 2 days

Text

Apologies

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

liability series chapter 7:

synopsis: reader feels guilty for her behavior swallows her pride and apologizes to Ghost.

warnings: slight angst

master list: https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

MDNI

It had been nearly a week since she had fought with Emma. The days passed quickly, she was busy from the moment she stepped into the medical bay and from the moment she collapsed in bed. There was a constant stream of soldiers needing medical attention. She didn't mind the fast-paced job, it kept her mind busy. Prevented her guilty consciousness from filling her mind with regrets about her behavior. The truth was that she hated the way she'd been acting. John Price's harsh words had made her realize just how insufferable she'd been.

Since the confrontation she kept her head down, desperate to keep herself out of trouble. She loved her job, and though she never felt as though she was wanted, she knew that caring for people was her purpose in life. She was determined to prove herself not only to her sister but to Ghost as well.

She hated the fact that someone perceived her differently than who she knew she was. Her behavior with the LT had been unusual for her. She wasn't one to snap so easily, she also wasn't used to blatant disrespect to her face. She wished she would've handled the interactions with him with more grace, however, she'd let her ego get the best of her. Now most of the people on the base hated her and thought she was sleeping with one of the higher-ranking men to keep her job. The thought made her sick as it couldn't be further from the truth.

After a long day, the girl had finally finished her tasks and filled the night shift medics in on the status of the patients staying the night in the bay. She cleaned her hands, took off the black scrub top and shoved it in her bag. She heads to the dining hall, hoping that she would be able to eat alone since dinner had been served an hour earlier. As she enters she notices a few people sitting at a table together, along with her sister sitting with Ghost of all people. She tried to back out of the room before she was noticed, but her eyes met those of Emma's and she cursed. She knew that it was too late now.

She smiles awkwardly and grabs a plate of food, she holds her shoulders high and walks over to her sister, taking a seat beside her. Emma looks at her in annoyance and turns back to Ghost, continuing her conversation about some form of combat he'd been teaching her. She listens awkwardly and waits for a pause in the conversation. It was not even two minutes later when Emma turned to her with an angry glare.

"is there something you need?" Emma asks

"I was hoping to talk to you, actually the both of you" she says, noticing how Ghost's body turns towards her, acknowledging her presence for the first time since she sat down. His dark eyes pierced directly into her soul. She rubs her hands together nervously.

"I have nothing to say to you - excuse me LT, I'll see you for training tomorrow" Emma says before picking up her plate and leaving the table. She sighs and watches her walk out of the room, embarrassment and sadness fills her heart as her face burns bright red.

Ghost sighs trying to figure out how he would be able to get himself out of the incredibly awkward situation. His mind races for something, anything to say. He hated seeing the look of sadness on her face. He felt a pang in his heart as she stood.

"you wanted to talk to me?" he asks, her gaze shifts to meet his own, she blinks back her tears and sits down once more.

"yeah, I uh - I wanted to apologize to you for my past behavior. I never should've spoken to you like that, it's not who I am or who I ever want to be. The last thing I want is to make any more enemies on this base, and I can promise you that It'll never happen again. No matter how much my ego hates it, I won't be arguing with you or any other superior. I just want to do a good job here"

Ghost was shocked at her words, the last thing he'd expected to hear from her was an apology. She was constantly surprising him. His mouth went dry as his heart raced. He was so taken aback that his mind went blank, unable to form any coherent thoughts he nodded and mumbled out a short response.

"already forgotten"

"right, well have a good night" she says softly before walking out of the room.

Ghost clenches his fist as she leaves, cursing himself for not offering her his own apology. He knew he never should've spoken to her in that way, she'd caught him at the worst possible time. He'd just gotten off a call in which Colonel Shepard tore him a new one for not having any additional information about their target. He took his anger out on the first person who spoke to him, which happened to be the medic. He had not expected her to fight back and stand up for herself. He was used to respect, the soldiers on this base wouldn't even look him in the eye. Then this young woman marched into his world and changed everything.

He'd been attracted to her from the moment he laid eyes on her. He thought she was simply the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Her captivating eyes and bright hair. Her kind smile and big glasses which sat on her nose. He would never forget the way that her smile dropped after he made that rude remark when they met. Her eyes unable to hide the hurt and anger she felt towards him. As much as he wanted to deny it - Ghost wanted her. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to go after her and show her just how much she'd messed with his head. But it was just a fantasy, he'd never allow things between them to grow. Relationships were not his style, he couldn't imagine committing to someone forever. Yet the idea of another man laying a hand on her made him sick to his stomach.

chapter 8: https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/752480231502315520/sisters?source=share

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