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illyrianbitch · 1 month

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An Education in Malice

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, rough, angry, hate sex basically. sexual degradation (name calling), p in v penetration, sex in da woods, bickering and insults, inner circle slander

Word Count: 6.6k

a/n: i know technically we wouldnt be a princess... but we r a high lord family so were running with it for the sexual tension. also dedicated to my soulmate and the brilliant babe, @itsswritten who told me to write sumthin smutty like this. thank her 🫡

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched at the sound.

He’d almost forgotten how grating your voice was to his ears, how it made his body tense with an emotion he could never quite describe. He turned around slowly, taking you in where you stood leaning casually against a tree.

The dress you wore was reminiscent of autumn court elegance, fabric cascading around you in rich hues of crimson, gold, and amber, like the vibrant foliage of the season brought to life, sleeves like flickering flames. There was a sense of wrongness in seeing such an elegant form amidst the wild, your commanding presence even more striking than that of your other family members. If he didn't know who you were, he would have been tempted to describe you as something of unparalleled beauty, a vision amidst a forest of wilderness.

But Azriel knew who you were. He knew what you were.

He had noticed the similarities between you and your brothers quickly, from your mannerisms down to the curve of your lips. You and Eris shared the same snarky smirk– a smirk Az wanted to wipe clean off your faces. You were using it now, holding his gaze with the corners of your lips upturned and amused eyes.

“You look thrilled to see me,” you said.

Az did nothing to hide his disdain as he narrowed his eyes at you. “Where is your brother?”

“Busy,” you responded, absentmindedly running the tips of your fingers along the tree you leaned on. You took a moment to observe the bark before you turned to face Azriel again, a small taunting smile on your lips once more. “I’ll let him know you missed him.”

Azriel held your gaze for a moment, a tick in his jaw as he let out a short exhale. Then, he was turning around to leave, a clear dismissal. A small flicker of anger rose in your body. Quickly, you winnowed in front of him, your sudden appearance setting his shadows into a frenzied dance around him, coalescing into a swirling mass around his neck like a collar of live snakes ready to strike.

“Don’t be rude,” you said, “I’m here on Eris’ behalf. Give me information to report back to him.”

“Nothing to report,” Azriel said, voice flat. He stared at you for a moment, eyes scanning you. And then he was making another notion to leave, brushing past you with a small shove to your shoulder. You nearly laughed at the action, at how easy he was becoming to rile up— at how much your presence bothered him.

“You don’t want to stay and chat?” You said over your shoulder. A flutter of triumph spread in your chest when you heard his footsteps come to a halt. You turned to face him, his back still to you, shadows swirling around his body like black flames. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.”

Azriel turned to face you, a small scowl on his beautiful features. “Not long enough.”

You laughed, the sound stroking his body in a way that sent shivers down his spine. You let out a sigh.

“I get bored in Autumn sometimes, you know?”

Briefly, something flickered in Azriel’s hazel eyes, but it faded faster than you could decipher what it meant or where it came from. He titled his head slightly, eyes taking you in fully.

“Not enough cruelty for you?”

“Something like that.”

You both held each other's stares, his icy gaze against your fiery one. He lifted his chin slightly, rolling his shoulders as if to straighten his already stiff posture. You didn’t miss the way his wings extended slightly from their tucked in position, just enough to stand as a warning, as a reminder of who he was— what he was.

“This is a waste of my time.”

Yet, Azriel made no move to leave— not this time.

“Because you have such important matters to return to?” You asked with a raised brow, “You said it yourself, nothing to report. So, are there some damsels in distress to be saved? Something to make you feel important?”

You made sure to pay extra attention to when you mocked his previous words, tone dropping slightly deeper to imitate his. Azriel’s eyes narrowed even more, a dark wave of evident anger washing through his face, nostrils flared, jaw clenched. You bit the inside of your cheek to contain your grin.

You were playing with something dangerous, this you knew. But Azriel was so fun to rile up, so easy to. You understood, now, why your brother seemed to enjoy these meetings so much. You’d assumed Eris was some sort of masochist, somehow finding pleasure in the necessity of being allies with the Night Court, the same people who so commonly disregarded you and your family as evil and cruel— although, they were right to a certain extent. But perhaps Eris had found some sort of entertainment with this affair.

“Stop talking,” was Azriel’s only reply.

“Why?”

He took a step forward. You made sure to stay still, to hold his gaze as he peered down at you.

“Because you’re trying to get a rise out of me,” Azriel responded, his voice cool, “and it will not work.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed. “Play the unphased act all you’d like, we both know its bullshit.”

He said nothing in response, his eyes remaining locked on yours. Azriel’s stare was harder now, colder. A clear warning was written in his features, carved out between his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes: do not fuck with me.

But you welcomed the challenge. If he wasn’t going to admit it, you were more than willing to prove your point.

“You put my brother in a chokehold in a public meeting. You have no self-control. You’re just constantly one spark away from igniting.”

Azriel growled. “Your brother deserved it.”

You raised your brow in a small taunt.

“Because he called your precious Morrigan a slut?”

Whether Azriel wanted to admit it or not, you were very easily tearing at his resolve. He moved quickly, his hand naturally falling to the dagger at his hip. Shadows moved closer to you, but with a swift movement of your fingers, they were met with the spark of a small flame, quickly retracting back into their mass form near Azriel’s shoulders. You winnowed back to your original place, back against the rough tree bark.

“Careful, Shadowsinger,” you sneered, “You’re forgetting your manners.You didn’t even let me finish.”

Azriel wore a clear scowl now, brows furrowed as he held your gaze from afar, hand still on his weapon. There was something deadly about the way you made him feel, the intensity of those feelings far surpassing any hatred he held for your brothers– Eris, specifically. In truth, the more time Az spent near Lucien, the more he saw him as someone good– and the less similarities he seemed to bear with you, his conniving snake of a sister. You opened your mouth to taunt him once more.

“I don’t agree with my brother,” you said, “Hell, I admire Morrigan for her freedom. I do love a pretty dress. So, I would have called her something else… a liar, perhaps?”

Those words were all it took to light Azriel’s fuse.

Within a blink, he was in front of you, the cold steel of a dagger, Truth-Teller you presumed, pressed against your neck. His wings flared out angrily behind him. Shadows surged around you, a suffocating darkness descending like a shroud, swallowing the sunlight and leaving only a void of darkness. You stared into Azriel's eyes— cold, and angry.

"Shut up," he snarled.

For a moment, a sense of fear flickered deep in your stomach, but you swallowed it down, the flame diminishing before it could properly ignite. Even as his shadows threatened to consume you both whole, you refused to back down, meeting Azriel's gaze with a defiant stare of your own. And then, you grinned. A cruel, wicked gesture that made his blood boil.

“Nice to see you perform without an audience, too.”

Azriel's voice was laden with disdain as he responded, words dripping with venom. "You and your brother are exactly the same."

But instead of flinching at the accusation, you maintained your smirk, unfazed by the blade pressed against your neck. "Which brother? I have quite a few," you countered, your tone teasing, almost playful.

Azriel's grip tightened, images of your family conjuring in his mind. Az could barely remember the names of your other brothers, their features blurring into a blurry mess of fiery auburn and copper. Instead, his mind focused on you– the female before him, under his grip and his dagger, standing next to the two males he despised for different reasons.

“You can decide,” Azriel finally said, “they’re all equally terrible.”

“I’d say Lucien is a good male,” you laughed bitterly, “I’m willing to bet your sweet Elain would agree.”

A surge of fury rose within him, a deep primal instinct to lash out and silence your taunts once and for all. But even as he bristled with anger, he realized you were right.

He was constantly teetering on the edge, one step away from losing control. It had gotten worse recently, watching everyone around him find their place, their people; Elain growing closer to Lucien, his brothers spending time with their mates. Azriel was frustrated. He was angry. You’d done exactly what he told you wouldn’t happen– gotten a rise out of him. He hated it, hated you, hated himself even more.

Azriel took a deep breath, your heated gaze still on him, eyes narrowed, a small smirk on your lips that he filled him with a burning anger. It wasn’t as if he could kill you, no, he couldn’t even really hurt you. One mark on the Vanserra’s youngest and only daughter would be a mark for war. This was a battle Az couldn't win, indulging your provocations for the mere sake of your entertainment. He needed to calm down. Regain control.

The shadows around you began to recede and sunlight filtered back into the clearing as Azriel pushed you away with a snarl. You leaned your head back against the tree as you took a deep breath.

He studied you for a moment before saying, "You'd think someone as pretentious as you wouldn't need to rely on irritating someone for an ounce of attention."

There was a subtle shift in your demeanor—a swallowed response, a flicker of vulnerability. His gaze followed the movement down to the column of your throat.

“Pretentious?”

You gave a bitter laugh.

"Yes, pretentious. All of you Vanserras," Azriel retorted with a bitter edge, “Every single one.”

"That's ironic coming from you. You think we're pretentious?"

Azriel's gaze hardened. "Yes. Cruel, evil, and vile. You think you're better than all of us."

Your mouth widened as you scoffed. And then you let out a laugh of disbelief.

"Oh my Gods, does it ever get tiring?" you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Wallowing in your own self-pity and then using it as a means to hate everyone outside of your incestuous little circle?"

"Do not speak of my family," Azriel snapped.

You smirked. “So you admit your family is incestuous?”

Azriel said nothing, a sudden realization that his anger, once again, had beat him to his rationality, somehow giving you another weapon to use against him. He clenched his jaw, feeling a simmering heat building in his stomach.

"You stand in front of me and pretend to be shocked when I call you for what you are?" he countered with a sneer, “Your family isn't quiet about their disdain for my family, for my kind, or for me."

You lifted your chin. “You don’t even like your own kind, Shadowsinger.”

There was another flare of his nostrils and you knew that you’d gotten him once again. Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, a sight lost to you as his shadows covered them. You continued as he stayed silent.

“I will admit, my family can be a bit narrow minded. Why would I hate you for the things you can’t control? Where's the fun in that?”

Again, Azriel remained silent. He knew if he made a move, if he said a word, it would likely be something he regretted, something that would come back to bite him in the ass.

"I don’t hate you because you’re from the Night Court, or an Illyrian, or a bastard, or whatever it is you tell yourself at night," you continued, your words like a dagger aimed at his pride. "I hate you because you are hot-headed and arrogant. You’ve held a grudge against Eris for something that wasn’t his fault and have utterly screwed Lucien to no end. Your little family is a disease.”

Azriel’s resolve was cracking. He didn’t have enough self-control for this, for you. He’d barely mustered up the diplomacy needed to meet with Eris.

“Stop talking,” he said through gritted teeth. He felt it again, the flicker of frustration that threatened to engulf him like an unattended flame.

You gave him a withering glare. “Or what, you’ll make me?”

Azriel blinked, his eyes scanning your body instinctively. There was something about the words you spoke, the way you had spoken them, that made his body shiver. A small jolt of electricity passed through his muscles. Unfortunately for him, you caught it as quick as it manifested. Your eyes widened as you let out a dry laugh, forming a small smirk on your lips.

“Oh my gods,” you said, taking a step closer, “I bet you’d like that, wouldn't you? Is that why you’re such an ass today?

Azriel’s wings twitched behind him. You gave him a mocking pout as you stared up at him.

“No one to torture, no sweet female to make love to? Poor, powerful, Spymaster.”

Azriel thought for a moment. He thought about the anger boiling in his body, how on edge he’d been, how every little thing had been setting him off. He thought about you, in front of him, a female he despised from previous meetings– loud-mouthed, vicious, and selfish. A female from a family he hated, a family that took things from his family, from him.

And then he began thinking of how great it would feel to show them how wrong they were about him. To prove to them that they weren’t better than him, that he was just as, if not more, powerful than their damned bloodline.

You had been right again. He was pent up. He hadn’t taken a lover recently, hadn’t fucked anyone since that one almost-night with Elain– where she’d been sweet, sensitive, and gentle. But even before, with the females who’d asked for it rough, told him they could handle it, he hadn’t indulged himself too far. He still respected them. They were still wide-eyed and kind, sweet to a certain extent. He didn’t want to hurt them. They were ladies. Azriel respected ladies.

“I said stop talking,” Azriel growled.

There was a tick in his jaw.

“And I said, make me.”

But you, you weren’t a lady. You weren’t sensitive, sweet, or kind. You were a viper. A snake with beautiful lips and a body he found incredibly inviting— not that he’d ever admit it to anyone. But standing in front of him, that defiant look in your eyes, the pride seeping off you, the smirk on your lips… Azriel felt hungry. He felt ravenous.

So, he thought for one more moment. And then he was taking a step forward, one that you matched with an equal stepback.

“Y/n,” Azriel drawled as he continued to take another step. You matched him again, moving back while you glared at him. “Are you not getting enough attention? Is that it?”

Your back hit the tree and you let out a small exhale as Azriel took a final step forward, inches away from you as he stared down with a dark gaze.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You bit out.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You attempted to regulate your breathing as his eyes drank you in, a clear and unashamed desire painted over his face.

“Do I look like a fucking mind-reader?”

Azriel gave a dry chuckle. You were unraveling before him, scrambling for control. “Such a vile mouth for a princess.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that why you came?” He brought a hand to your chin, roughly tilting your face up to look directly at him. “Do you want to be fucked, Y/n?”

The answer was yes, you did. There was a sickening sense of excitement that ran through your blood, a heat pooling between your thighs. But you wouldn’t admit it. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction, weren’t about to prove him right. So instead you stayed quiet, pulling your face out of his hands and turning your cheek.

“I came for intel,” you said through gritted teeth, “in Eris’ place.”

Azriel gave another chuckle, something dark and humorous. His hand trailed to the side of your neck, pushing the hair off your shoulders to expose the line of your collarbone. You swallowed.

“Interesting,” he said. He leaned in, lips against your ear. “Then what is that desire I smell?”

You let out a sharp exhale as he leaned away. Taking a deep breath, you looked at him, biting the inside of your cheek at your body's betrayal. You needed to balance this.

“Maybe its you that needs a good fuck, Shadowsinger. Like I said, you seem real pent up. Noone quite scratching that itch?”

But Azriel no longer seemed angry at your words, instead, he seemed amused– hungry. He was quiet for a second too long, simply staring at you. A sense of irritation prickled at your skin.

“What?” You snapped.

“I can admit that,” Azriel said coolly, “if you can admit something to me.”

“What, are we trading secrets now? I wasn’t aware this was a children's sleepover.”

Azriel didn’t respond. You registered the movement of a dark shadow as it fled from his body, slowly sneaking around your collarbone. You attempted to hit it away, but it quickly slithered back to Azriel, running up his chest to curl around his ear. He smirked.

“When was the last time someone fucked you, Y/n?”

The air left your lungs as you let out a small gasp. You blinked. Quickly, you regained your composure.

“Excuse me?”

Azriel kept his smirk. “It must be hard getting anyone to touch you when you’re so sheltered by those males you call brothers.”

He reached out a hand to your bare collarbone, but you caught his wrist in your hand, allowing it to hover in your grip. His eyes slowly trailed up to your face, heavy-lidded and darkened with a sense of attention that made your stomach clench.

“What the hell are you getting at?” You sneered.

Azriel simply stared at you, the ghost of a smirk still plastered on his lips. His reactions had you gritting your teeth in anger and rubbing your thighs in anticipation at the same time— you hated it.

“Don’t ask questions you know the answers to.”

“You're pathetic,” you spat, “Save your games for a bitch who cares.”

But you still gripped his hand in yours, still felt the heat radiating off his skin. And you made no motion to move. No motion to let him pull back. Azriel didn’t fail to notice this, either.

“That snarky mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble. But I bet that's why you use it, right?”

Your breathing was heavier now. Azriel’s gaze flickered to where you still gripped his wrist.

“You can fool everyone, Y/n,” he said, “But not me.”

You shouldn’t have enjoyed the way his voice sounded on your skin, shouldn’t have felt a breathlessness filling your body as he spoke to you. But you felt it. And it was a burning, hungry desire that made your chest tighten. This was what you wanted, it was what you needed.

Azriel was right. The bastard had read you like a book. Your family, your brothers, never let anyone near you for fear of embarrassment– fear of you bringing some sense of shame. But Azriel was right. You wanted it. You craved it. You wanted to forget who you were, to give up the control you always had to wield.

Before you could overthink it, you loosened your grip on Azriel’s hand and pulled it towards you, situating it on the side of your throat. You let out a small gasp when he quickly wrapped his fingers around the base of your neck.

And then he was pulling you into him with a deep and angry kiss. All teeth, tongue, and fire, mouths crashing together almost painfully, but neither of you stopped. With every movement of his mouth, of his tongue on yours, a dormant flame deep within you awoke.

A primal desire surged through Azriel’s veins like wildfire, the scent of you– of your want, of your desire– filling his senses in a way that had his cock throbbing. There was no room for rational thought, only the raw, unbridled passion that engulfed him in a fiery embrace. His hand found its way into your hair, fingers brushing along your scalp as he yanked your hair to expose your neck to him. His lips wandered to your exposed collarbone, giving a harsh suck to the skin near the column of your throat.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Shut up,” you responded, reaching your hands out to fumble with his leather clothes. Azriel pulled back slightly, grabbing your wandering hands in his. You let out a sound of protest as he ran sloppy kissing along your neck.

“Oh how i’d love to fuck that foul mouth of yours,” Azriel murmured against your skin, his mouth reaching your ear. “But we’re short on time.” He took your lobe in between his teeth and you let out a small groan.

“I bet all you’ll need is a few minutes– and that's being generous.”

Azriel’s hand gripped at your waist, traveling up your chest to roughly grab your breast through your dress.

“No wonder you’re so insufferable.” he said, his voice amused as he pulled back, his other hand tugged at your hair once more. “You haven’t been fucked properly.”

You snarled. "Fuck you."

Azriel grinned.

"Oh, princess, I will.”

And then he was pulling the front of your dress down, exposing your bare breasts before him, nipples peaked in the fresh air. You let out a gasp as a small faint ripping sound traveled to your ears. Before you had a chance to react, Azriel was spinning you around, pulling your back against his chest, one hand bracketing your throat as the other traveled down your stomach, grabbing at the fabric at your dress.

"But first, you're going to beg me for it,” he breathed into your ear, his voice so low you felt it more than you heard it. His words traveled straight to your core, leaving you dripping with want. Yet, you refused to let the words leave your lips. You gritted your teeth, bristled at the suggestion— pride and defiance warring within you.

“Like hell I will.”

Azriel made a sound of disapproval, his mouth still running along your ear, “No?” he asked, hand slowly trailing from your throat to your chest, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. “So you don’t want me to touch you?”

His hand fell over your breast, cupping it in his palm as his thumb brushed over your nipple. You watched as black tendrils of shadow danced around his forearm, meeting where his fingers tweaked your nipple. Their cool gentle touch sent a ripple of sensation through you and your head fell back against him as you let out a small whimper.

“Stop being a fucking tease.”

Azriel found that he loved the way you whimpered, loved the tinge of frustration in your voice as he touched you. Here you were, melting into his touch, attempting to avoid admitting in words what your body was showing in actions.

“I asked you to do something.”

He rolled your nipple between his fingers. You let out a deep exhale, pushing yourself back onto him, grinding into the evident bulge that pressed against you, the thin material of your dress doing nothing to disguise his hardened length.

“Just fuck me already,” you turned your head to catch his gaze, darkened and pupils blown with lust. “I know you want to.”

You covered his hand in yours, molding his hand into your touch, urging him to grab your breast again– harder, firmer.

The corners of his lips quirked up. “That doesn’t matter. Beg for it.”

Agonizingly slow, his hands roamed your trembling form, lighting flames of desire that you almost feared would consume you whole. Second by second, you felt yourself losing control. The heat of his touch seared through you, eroding the last crumbs of your resistance until all that remained was a burning need to be filled by him, to succumb to the primal urges coursing through your veins. You wanted him. You needed him.

“Please,” you whispered, the truth spilling from your lips in a voice so meek you barely recognized it as your own.

"Please what?"

With a trembling breath, you finally let go of the last shreds of your resistance, your voice coming out in a deep, frustrated plea. “Please fuck me.”

Azriel's lips curved into a predatory smirk.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low and sultry as he pulled away from you. In one movement he was pulling your ass closer to him, forcing your body forward to brace yourself on the tree. In seconds you felt the cool air on your body as Azriel pushed your dress above your hips. Naturally, you felt your body bowing at the sensation. He let out a groan at the sight.

Then he was spreading your legs, baring you before him, glistening cunt on full display. His rough hands gripped your bare ass. He massaged it for a moment, but the motion was brief, and soon you felt a hard hand land on the fat of your cheek. You let out a small shriek, but it was followed by a low moan as he delivered another smack. Azriel smirked at the sound of it, at the sight of your ass reddening with his handprint.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You managed to grit out as you pushed your ass out further, “I’m growing bored.”

“Bored?” He ran finger through the wetness that pooled at your core. “Your cunt doesn’t seem to think so.”

You moaned at the feeling, pushing yourself back against his hand.

“Too stubborn to admit anything,” Azriel murmured, “But your body gives you away.”

Azriel took a step back, your body cold at the loss of contact as he freed himself from the confine of his leather pants, each movement filled with a primal urgency that would’ve made him unsettled— embarrassed even— if he had been in a more rational state of mind. But Azriel wasn’t being rational. All he could think about was you, and staring at your beautiful glistening cunt, all he wanted was to fuck you into oblivion, to let his frustrations out. To tame you like a wild animal— his most tantalizing challenge yet.

He settled himself behind you and stroked his cock along your folds, allowing it to glide against your core until both of you were slick with your desire. He teased you slowly as he moved up and down your entrance. You pushed against him, urging him inside, inviting him to take you.

Azriel only laughed darkly at the movements, and you whined in response, frustrated and irritated.

“Remember this the next time you insult me,” he said, “Remember how you were begging for me to fuck you.”

Half a breath later, he pushed himself inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt. You exhaled in tandem, your cunt clenching him, pulsing around the stretch of him. He adjusted his angle and picked up the pace, sending pleasure rising in a wave that you couldn’t hold back, your mouth falling open as he began to take you harder.

You let your forehead fall against your hands, braced against the rough texture of the tree. You faintly felt the ridges under your palm, but there was no pain, no irritation that you knew you were bound to experience later. All you could truly feel was Azriel deep inside you, stretching you out and using you in a way you hadn’t experienced for a very long time. The lust Azriel felt, the experience of being with you, of claiming you as his, was no longer a desire, no longer a want. It was a need. An animalistic and primal need that he felt deep in his chest.

Azriel's movements were relentless, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure rippling through your body, clouding your mind in a haze of ecstasy and melting away all coherent thought. There were sounds emitted from your lips, this you knew, but they were incoherent whimpers, quiet murmurs whispered towards the ground as your forehead dug into your hands with every buck of Azriel’s hips.

“You had so much to say earlier, Y/n,” Azriel said, pulling out until he was barely inside you. He thrusted back in, resuming a hard and brutal pace.

“Why so quiet now?”

Thrust.

“Did you just need the attitude fucked out of you?”

Thrust.

"What will your brothers think?” he taunted, his grip on your hips bruising in its intensity, “Your father?”

Thrust.

“If only your family only knew what their precious princess was up to. Taking it from the likes of me, like some common pleasure hall whore."

The mention of your family sent a surge of burning shame coursing through your veins, you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, flushing against your exposed skin. But amidst the suffocating shame, there was something else, something primal and insatiable that stirred within you—a hunger born of defiance, of indulging in a forbidden ecstasy. It filled you with a sense of exhilaration that bordered on madness.

Quickly, that spark of defiance ignited within you, mingling with the fiery hunger coursing through your veins, an urge to bite back at him. You craned your head to look over your shoulder, catching his eyes as you let out a moan, taking your lips in between your teeth.

"Do common whores get you this riled up?" you purred. There was a feigned innocence in your tone that made Azriel twitch inside you. His gaze burned into yours. "Do they make you this hungry?”

A part of you wanted the confirmation, wanted the triumphant feeling of knowing you could ruin him for everyone else— that you felt better than the females he had bedded, that you, the one he loathed so openly, were the only one to truly quench his thirst.

“Do they feel as good as me, Azriel?”

He let out a deep, guttural moan. The sound traveled through your body, lighting your skin on fire as you bucked back into his movements, meeting every roll of his hips.

“Say that again,” Azriel groaned.

When you gave no reply, he twisted your hair around one fist and gave it a tug, pulling your body up to him as before. His thrusts never staggered, not even as his hand traveled to wrap around your throat, matching the reddening print from his earlier grip. The other hand remained steady at your hip, gripping into the fabric of your dress and the exposed skin of your body.

“Say my name,” he growled and your cunt tightened at the sound, at the way he gripped your throat harder. You grasped at his arm with your hands, holding on to his skin as he bucked into you.

“No.”

Azriel growled, pulling out of you almost completely before he pushed back in a heavy, angry stroke. Your body arched in pleasure, a small whimper leaving your mouth instinctively.

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Fuck you.”

“I am,” Azriel said, “And your cunt is swallowing me whole, princess. Like it's made for me, like its been begging to be fucked.”

He released his grip from your throat, letting you fall forward as he placed his hand on the small of your back, arching your body for him as he pounded into you from behind. You fell forward, hands planted on the tree before you, fingers clawing at the bark like an animal in heat. Azriel watched as his cock disappeared into your cunt with every thrust, watched how your ass bounced back on him with every movement, how your tits moved with every roll of his hips. He fought not to finish from the sight alone.

You struggled to find your voice through the haze of pleasure that clouded your mind, that seemed to twist and tie your tongue to where you could only gasp incoherent words of ecstasy

“Oh, fuck. Azriel.”

Azriel drank in your sounds of pleasure like a male thirsted for centuries, the sound of his name on your tongue sending a wave of pleasure through his body.

“Are you going to cum, Y/n?”

You let yourself surrender to his touch as he continued to ravage you with ruthless abandon, his voice caressing you in ways you never knew a sound could do. You wanted him to go faster, harder, rougher; wanted him to fuck you with all his might, with all that anger you saw. As if he could read your mind, Azriel’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you.

“Fuuck, yeah, you are. I can feel this pretty little cunt clenching me.”

He continued his pace, fucking you with long thorough strokes that left you completely pinned between him and the rough bark of the tree. You felt him heavy against your back, breasts pressed against his hand as he moved between gripping them both roughly, holding onto them for leverage as he fucked you from behind.

"Look at you," he taunted, his grip tightening around you possessively. "So desperate, so needy. You're nothing but a pretty little slut, begging for release, aren’t you?"

Azriel continued, moving deeper and faster, pumping into you with snaps of his hips that had you writhing underneath him.

"And yet," you managed between breaths, gasps leaving your lips as he drove into you. "You’re the one pounding into me like a brute who can't get enough.”

With a low groan, Azriel's hand tightened around your breast, his grip possessive as he leaned in to bite at your shoulder with a hungry intensity. He was beginning to think that you’d surely be the death of him, that he had created something, some beast inside him, that refused to be satiated by anything other than you— and that was dangerous. But he didn’t think too much about it, not now, not as he felt your cunt massaging him from the inside, felt your walls clamping onto him in a way that set his body on fire, his cock throbbing.

Azriel railed you over and over, nothing slow or gentle about his movements. And with every thrust, you whined in ecstasy. His grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as he kept pounding into you. He fell forward, grinding against you, pushing you further into the rough bark of the tree.

You could feel it, a deep pressure building in your stomach as his cock stretched you in the most delicious way. And you could feel him too, hot against your back, his deep breaths and the groans that reverberated through his body. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in your ears, muffling out the sound of your moans as your whole body tensed.

Then you felt it, a cool trail snaking up your legs. Dark tendrils of Azriel's shadows slithered through your thighs, caressing your skin with a tantalizing touch that made you clench at the sensation. You gasped as they coiled around your clit, winding you up with a feeling you’d never experienced before. With a loud moan, your orgasm rolled through you in a violent convulsion, white spots dancing at the edges of your vision.

Azriel hated to think it, hated to admit that the sound of you coming undone on his cock was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard, that feeling your cunt clench around him as the sound filled his ear was enough for him to unravel. With a choked moan, Azriel spilled into you, spurts of his seed coating your walls. You let out a final, breathy whine at the sensation of him spilling into you, feeling as it began to drip as Azriel slowly pulled out.

With a heavy breath, his gaze lingered on the glistening trail connecting the tip of cock to your cunt. The lust in his eyes faintly faded, and a moment of clarity washed over him as the reality of what he’d just done hit like a sudden, cold wave. He didn’t regret it, no, not at all. This was exactly the release Azriel had needed. In fact, a part of him nearly grinned at the realization, at the relief he now felt in his body. But the other part of him, the rational side afraid of disappointing his family, of fucking something up, awoke in a panic. What the fuck had he just done? And why was he so proud of it?

You slowly stood up, straightening yourself out as you turned to face him, face flushed and hair a tangled mess. There was a ghost of a smirk playing on your lips as you took them between your teeth and bit down. Your breasts were still exposed, nipples peaked and reddened marks from his rough grip. Azriel's eyes traveled down your form, swallowing hard as he took in the sight before him. He could smell the desire that filled the air around you both, could smell himself on you— the image of him plunging in and out of you still fresh in his mind.

The idea of it alone made his cock stir again. There was something intoxicating about this situation to him. The image of you returning home, covered in his marks, in his scent, in his seed. Eris smelling him on you, realizing that you’d not only fucked someone he despised, but sullied yourself with an illyrian– just as he’d told Mor. And you, you’d remember this. You’d remember him inside you, remember how you let him use you, fuck you like a common-court whore. And you’d have to live with that. Every insult you’d give him, everytime you sneered at him in the future, there would be a part of you that remembered falling apart on his cock as you begged him for more, for him to fuck you harder.

With a gentle flick of your fingers, your dress was perfectly restored, the fabric falling gracefully around your figure as your hair cascaded down your shoulders in silky, untouched, waves. You smoothed out the sleeves of your dress with a practiced gesture before turning your gaze back to Azriel, scanning him from head to toe. Your eyes lingered on his still-exposed cock, covered in the mixed fluids of your cunt and his seed. A smirk played at the corner of your lips as Azriel looked down, realization flickering in his eyes as he hastily pulled up his pants, stuffing himself back into them.

"Well, this was fun," you remarked casually– almost bored. Azriel resisted the urge to frown at the words, at the tone you used. "Catch you later, Shadowsinger."

Before he could respond, you were gone, leaving him standing alone in the forest, staring at the empty space before a tree.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Part Two

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

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laenordeservedbetter · 4 months

Text

Why?

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Athena)

Synopsis: Percy sees something he never expected to see.

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, confused Percy, Clarisse slander (Percy), fear of spiders. lmk if I missed any.

This one-shot is based on this tweet.

A/N: Hello, lovely people. I'm back. I can't believe it's been almost a year since I last wrote on here. My writing skills got rusty, but I hope you enjoy reading anyway.

not my gif. || masterlist

Percy was walking with Luke as the latter continued showing him the camp facilities that they didn’t get to go over in the original tour when he sees a strange sight that makes him stop walking. He squints his eyes, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. When his visions do not change, his eyebrows raise, almost going to the top of his head by how surprised he was.

Luke stops talking when he notices that Percy’s attention was elsewhere. He tries to follow Percy’s line of sight and chuckles when he does. “Oh, yeah. That.” Luke smiles, amused. “That happens pretty much every once in a while.”

“Should we help her?” Percy asks, mortified, as he refers to you. He felt uneasy, seeing you with Clarisse. She is the camp bully, isn’t she? People shouldn’t be leaving you alone with her. Something about the predicament he saw the two of you in seemed off. It shouldn’t be happening, that’s for sure. He steps forward, wanting to free you from the torture when Luke places a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from doing so.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Luke shakes his head, making sure Percy wasn’t going to make any more steps before he retracts his hand.

“Why are Clarisse and Y/n sitting with their backs to each other?” Percy looks up at Luke, knowing the older camper wasn’t going to let him interfere. The least Luke could do was answer his questions.

“They had a fight.” Luke explains simply, still with an amused smirk.

“Then why are they holding hands?”

“They get sad when they fight.” The raven-haired boy shrugs.

Percy doesn’t say anything, keeping up with his staring. It didn’t occur to him how creepy or weird it was, seeing how baffled he still is upon seeing you and Clarisse in the same room, and holding hands. It’s giving him the heebie-jeebies. What business did Clarisse have holding hands with one of the kindest people in camp? He didn’t like that idea, but there was nothing he could do about it. His only hope was that Clarisse doesn’t infect you with her bad attitude.

Meanwhile, inside the Athena cabin, you squeezed Clarisse’s hand three times, but you didn’t say a word. You were still pretty upset from the incident earlier.

Clarisse tried to look at you from her peripheral vision and even though you couldn’t see it, you knew that her face was ridden with guilt. She sighs, “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tossed that spider to you when we were in the woods, even if I was freaked out.”

You had been walking in the woods together, hand in hand, when a spider fell on Clarisse’s shoulder. Her natural instinct was to kill it, but she didn’t have any weapons with her and she was starting to panic, so she did the first thing her brain told her to do. She flung the spider over to you despite knowing full well that you were afraid of them.

You take a deep breath, staying silent for a few seconds before saying, “I forgive you and I’m sorry for yelling and cursing you.” Your head hung low in shame. That wasn’t your proudest moment either. The things you said would have made even Chiron blush.

Clarisse gives out a huge sigh of relief, momentarily letting go of your hand so she can stand up. She walks over so she can finally be face to face with you. “It’s okay, I forgive you. You were freaking out too.” She wraps her arms around you, meeting your gaze with a smile.

“I thought my soul left my body at that point.” You pouted, bits of distress still not wearing off.

She cups your face, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “Do you feel better now?” She asks with a soft smile.

You can’t stop the smile from spreading to your face, too. You wrap your arms around her waist and hug her from your position on the chair, holding her tighter for maximum comfort. Clarisse laughs at how you didn’t want to let go, even after two minutes have passed.

“I love you so much. You know that, right?” Clarisse states, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know.” You murmur happily against her, wanting nothing more than to stay in this moment forever.

Outside the cabin, about ten feet away, Percy Jackson could be seen with his jaw dropped and eyes wider than before. “They’re dating?!” He exclaims, looking at Luke in a panic. It seems that he didn’t connect the dots until you and Clarisse kissed. And even then, it seemed like it wasn’t true. He wasn’t concerned anymore, just confused.

Luke’s brows furrowed. “Couldn’t you already tell by the way they were holding hands earlier?”

Percy stares at Luke, his mouth agape, then back to you and Clarisse, then back to Luke again, feeling like he was about to combust because of this new information. “What? No. Why would I even—”

Luke pulls Percy along, cutting his rambling short. “You have much to learn, Percy. So much.” He walks ahead, heading back to the Hermes cabin. “Come on. I’ll fill you in when we get back to the cabin.”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #percy jackon and the olympians

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luceafarul-de-dimineata · 1 month

Text

How the kings would react to the shipping of them and MC

Satan

He was hanging out with his nobles, just talking gossip like normal people

But Paimon was just staying on his phone through half the conversations

"Paimon! What's so important that you're not interested in seing Sitri's baby pictures?"

Sitri was dying in the corner while Zagan was rubbing his back

Paimon takes his eyes out of his phone and giggles.

"Oh, I was just arguing with some people onlineeee"

Satan puts down the pictures of baby Sitri on the table (which Astaroth swiftly takes for himself. This will make such great blackmail material) and sits next to Paimon curiously.

"What are these dumpass arguing about now? Don't tell me Leraye started sending death threats to Barbatos over the weather again."

"Noooooo, it's better than thaaaaat. People are arguing about who the child of Solomon would dateeeee"

Satan takes Paimon's phone and starts to scroll through the comversations.

"And I'm winning, right? I mean MC has a pact with me, I was the first to meet them, it's obvious that I'm the one they'll choose"

"I know, riiiiiight?"

Satan would become the most active person in the shipping forum, just spamming it with pictures of him and MC

It's a way to assert his dominance over the whole thing.

Gamigin almost started a war between Paradise Lost and Gehenna when he started insulting Satan under his photos of MC

Mod Jjok had to work overtime to stop the harassment everyone in Gehenna was throwing at Gamigin for that

Lucifer had to send a formal apologise on behalf of his son to stop the situation from escalating further.

Mammon

Recently Eligos asked him to try on different fashion styles

At some point Mammon asks Eligos what this is all about

"The child of Solomon mentioned that they are interested in gothic fashion, so I'm trying to see what clothing would fit you and abide by goth fashion rules."

Mammon chuckles and ruffles Eligos' hair before telling him that he is already to his master's liking

"But there are a lot of people that claim that MC would be more interested in the other kings. We can't have that! Just yesterday Amon was bragging that MC and Beelzebub went on a date!"

"I'm glad they had fun with Beelzebub, but Beelzebub is mine and I am MC's. They can have fun with anyone they please."

Eligos' jaw drops to the floor. He gets flashbacks of all the arguments he had online about this and how he bought bots to mass report any Mammon x Mc slander

Eligos constantly tries to convince Mammon that the shipping wars are a big but Mammon doesn't really care.

At most he sends pictures of him and MC cuddling to Satan to spite him like all good friends do with eachother.

Leviathan

Leviathan is a lurker through the forums

It's where he got most of his information about you before kidnapping you

Probably reports all posts that aren't for the ship with him and you for false information

He would constantly post pictures of you and him doing mundane things with captions like "Living life perfectly", "Greatest day of my life", "Me and my wonderful significant other"

Makes everyone in Hades like his post and floud it with compliments

He'll make an account for you where he roleplays as a version of you that's madly innlove with you

The most likely to start an actual war between Hades and whatever ship is trending that morning

He sometimes doesn't sleep and just scrolls through the forums, refreshing constantly to see if you're having fun with someone else

King of all doxxers

No VPN will protect you from Leviathan's wrath

Beelzebub

Beelzebub was tied to his office chair with Bael glaring at him

"Go on, look at the complaint. What does it say?"

"I should take a vacation. I'm already burned out. You know, overworking is very bad for your health."

Bael glares at him with not an ounce of amusement behind his eyes

When Beelzebub skims through the files, something catches his attention

"Threat of war from Hades? I don't remember going to Hades recently, what happened?"

"While you were away having fun with the child of Solomon, Amon posted pictures of you two going at it on a forum. Next thing I know, his majesty Leviathan declared war on Avisos. I had to talk him out of it, but we now have to write a report about what happened and send it to the other kingdoms to tell them that it was resolved without any casualties."

Beelzebub was laughing his ass off while Bael was question his life choices

Beelzebub asks Amon to show him the forum which the younger devil does happily.

He sometimes go through it often, but he uses it as a way to find out where you are.

He's chiller about the whole thing, finding it kind of funny that so many people are so invested in your love life

Lucifer

Gamigin won't shut up about it.

If Lucifer took a shot every time Gamigin complained about the shipping wars, he'll dethrone Beelzebub as the king of Gluttuny

Lucifer is a softer lover, only being intense in more private parts of your relationship

So even getting him to kiss you in public (or outside the bedroom) is very hard.

This makes Gamigin's job as a shipper very hard

Lucifer finds the shipping war situation absurd

Why would anyone do this? What is it accompleshing? Why does he suddently get embargos from Hades or Gehenna after he goes on a date with you?

He'll probably have to sit Gamigin down and tell him to stop calling the other kings rude names just because they hang out with you.

It really depends on your reaction to everything as well

If you like being in the spot light, than he'll try to be more open with his affection, giving Gamigin more oportunities to gush about you online

If you want to keep your relationship more private, than he'll make all cameras fracture when pointing at the two of you

#whb #what in hell is bad #shipper au #whb satan #whb mammon #whb leviathan #whb beelzebub #whb paimon #whb eligos #whb bael #whb amon #whb lucifer #whb gamigin #whb x reader

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poisonous-honey · 4 months

Text

Fontaine Is Committing Childe Slander fr

Spoilers For The 4.2 Archon Quest

Content: Sagau reader insert (not the cult au), a lot of swearing

Note: Wrote this a while ago, just didn't post till now. This was written because of how frustrated I was with Childe's treatment in the quest. They did him so, so dirty.

🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Hearing your scream, Neuvillette, Aether, and Paimon nearly flinched and gave themselves away if it wasn't for Skirk quickly turning around and staring them dead in their eyes.

"AFTER ALL OF THAT, WE DON'T EVEN GET TO TALK TO HIM? WHAT THE HELL"

They never liked hearing you get upset, but since this was a scripted event, they could do nothing but play their parts. Aether wanted nothing more than to jump in and find Childe for you, if even just to get you to stop yelling, but his hands were tied. And seeing the intense look the lady across from him was giving, he doesn't think he'd be able to get away with it even if he tried.

"No 'hey, how're you doing? What's up? Where the fuck did you go? How did you end up fighting a god-damn space whale? I was worried.' We really get to say none of that? Skirk just throws him away like he's yesterday's trash? At least, I think that's Skirk... Okay, fine, whatever."

The group notices a slight twitch in Skrik's expression, as if she was annoyed, but it's gone not a moment later.

"Skirk I hope you're kinda funny cause this is a terrible first impression."

🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

Skirk watches as Neuvillette sends the traveller topside, hoping that he starts the scripted conversation without any hassle.

"Was it necessary to throw him so aggressively into the portal?"

Of course, that's not what happened. If Childe's mad ramblings were anything to go by, all of those that become the players "characters" seem to grow inexplicably attached to them. She didn't hold his words in high regard since he was insane, but seeing the hydro sovereign already taking a liking to you gives some weight to his words.

"He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle."

Neuvillette, still looking troubled, tells her that you really wanted to see him again after nearly 2 years of nothing.

"Didn't you also upset the player when you pounced on him and sent him to prison for no good reason?"

Neuvillette gave a slight wince, "I had no other choice. The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale gave the sentence and the law must be upheld."

Skirk doesn’t look amused, Neuvillette just sighs "... And the action itself was scripted. I had my hands tied."

"Then you have no right to look so troubled over my actions. It was simply scripted, nothing deeper. I would not intentionally go looking to upset the player, especially since they can control whoever they want. I have no desire to go back to the surface, which I would be forced to if they ever felt like messing with me."

He hums, "The player has much less control than you think. Even if they wanted to take control of you, they wouldn't or shouldn't be able to do so for quite a while. Falling into their good graces is the only way to get chosen, and you seem to have only just piqued their interest."

Neuvillette was just stating facts. He heard you crying about how your latest wishing session for Furina took everything you had. He doubts even if Skirk’s banner was a couple patches from now you'd have enough to get her. Skirk herself looks a little frustrated at the mention of gaining your favour, but quickly lets it go.

"As long as I have time to prepare, I suppose. Anyway, We should have our scripted conversation before time runs out. Unless you want them to start freaking out again."

"Of course not, let us continue."

🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

"The fuck do you mean he's already in Snezhnaya."

Lyney's eyes slightly widen in shock, not expecting that visceral of a reaction. Aether slightly shakes his head to try and get him not to worry about it while Paimon starts her bashful idle as a way to look elsewhere without arising suspicion.

"We don't even get to say goodbye, what the heck. Wait, we never even figured out what was going on with his vision either. They actually just threw him to the wayside! If he doesn't show up in the next interlude, I'm going to be ☆mad☆"

Aether tilts his head down as he starts to ponder. He was also a bit frustrated with how little they learned about what was going on with him. Obviously the whal- Narwhal was involved in someway, but nothing is explained outside their connection. He's suddenly ripped from his thoughts as you pick his next dialogue option and continue the story.

The story continues for a little bit as Arlecchino arrives to join the conversation. You add in some quips of your own as you're watching, but are mostly silent. They just take it as you being tired from the whirlwind of emotions the quest put you through.

Aether then realizes the next actions he has to take and struggles to keep a straight face.

*Actually, I just remembered something... Please help us deliver this.*

"I swear to god, don't give her Childe's vision. He hates her. He trusted us."

Aether can no longer hold back his wince as he holds out Childe's vision for Arlecchino to take. She almost looks amused as they hear you sigh.

"Goddammit."

🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

Childe was in agony.

This pain went far beyond his physical injuries. The last words he heard from you were you crying out to him. It frustrated him to no end that by the time he gets to see you again, he passes out. He can barely remember your words of praise and cooing about how cool he was for fighting such a creature. Your worry and the fact he doesn't even get to talk to you after all this time hasn't left the forefront of his mind since he woke up. Injuries be damned, he wanted to find the Traveller. He wanted to get something out of that vacation, more than just one conversation, getting arrested, and an incomplete fight. He thought that as long as you still had his vision, he would surely see you again and his vacation would end smoothly, but of course the story seemed to have it out for him. All he could do now was lay here in pain, stuck in his mind while his family is off doing something else.

He's upset he didn't get to finish his fight and that you had to finish it for him.

He's upset his foul legacy has taken such a toll on his body, he can't do anything.

He's upset that his family has to see him in such a state.

He's upset he missed your first encounter with Skirk.

He's upset he didn't even get to talk to you again.

And more than anything, he's upset he can't be there for you.

As he was about to continue wallowing in self-pity and regret, he suddenly finds himself fully geared, standing in front of the Abyss, with no injuries.

"Such bullshit. I loved the story quest, but why was Childe pushed to the side. It's almost like they had no idea what to do with him after they got him to the whale. Oh! It's just one of the creatures he's been wanting to fight for nearly all his life. Do we get to know how he feels about it? Nooo of course not. My man just wanted to go on vacation, and he had to deal with all of this."

Hearing your voice almost washes away all his stress, and hearing you complain about how he was treated washes away all his sorrow. It pleases him to know you hated what happened to him just as much, if not more, than he did. He could tell from your ranting and the fact you've already gotten 36 stars that you were going to fight just to let off steam. That's perfect for him. Killing something is just what he needs to take his mind off of recent events, killing things with and for you makes it even better. He'll be sure to make the best of this before you log off for the day, and he's back to being bedridden.

#sagau #self aware genshin #genshin x reader #childe x reader #iw8wgwbsiwhwbd JUSTICE FOR CHILDE #HIS TREATMENT IN THIS QUEST WAS BULL #WHAT KIND OF A VACATION WAS THIS #and after everything he went through for Tuecer you know he hates that he had to go home like that #I'm not even a Childe simp but omg i just couldn't #I like my plot holes to be filled in please #though if they were actually answered in the quest please let me know #i need answers #Pois.Posts #pois.writes

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Glad your back love! I have a request if that’s alright. Remus and reader going on a bookstore date and lunch or something!! That would be so cute. Imagine how excited both of them would be picking out books and being affectionate. Just a lot of fluff and cuteness. Thanks sweetness hope you enjoyed your break!

Thanks for requesting sweetness!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re feeling a bit guilty about the teas you’ve snuck in, but if there are two people who can be trusted around books, it’s you and Remus. He takes a careful sip as he leans in to skim the titles, sticking one hand in the pocket of his pants.

“Island of Love,” he reads, amusement lilting his tone. “Original.”

“I think I’ve actually read some of that author’s stuff,” you say.

Remus quirks a brow at you interestedly, hand coming out of his pocket to pull the novel from the shelf. “Let’s see, a summer wedding, the groom’s brother and bride’s maid of honor hate each other, but—oh, he’s frustratingly attractive…and something about passionate summer heat.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “Wonder what that could be alluding to.”

“Alright.” You steal the book from him, slotting back into its space. “I never said this stuff was, like, literature to be studied at Oxford. If you’re going to disrespect my section, run along to yours.”

“Fairly sure it’s considered rude to abandon your date,” he muses. “What’s my section, by the way?”

“Depressing stuff.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” You take a sip of your own tea, trying not to fluster under his attention. You scan the shelves idly for a distraction. “It’s all rather doom and gloom. Very well-written doom and gloom, to be fair, but I’m not always looking to have my life changed. This stuff is fun, at least.”

“I see,” he hums. “Oh, this looks familiar.”

You turn to see him holding up the shiny new version of the worn and waterstained paperback that rests perpetually on your nightstand at home.

“How do you know about that?” you ask him.

Remus smiles. Your heart flutters. “It was on the coffee table when I was over last week. Are you rereading it?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, turning your eyes away from him. “I reread it a lot, it’s my favorite.”

“Mm, I noticed it looked fairly battered.”

“Well-loved,” you correct him.

He chuckles quietly, and you grin because you can’t help it. “Right, so sorry. My mistake.”

You brush a piece of hair out of your face, slotting it behind your ear. Watch Remus’ eyes track the movement. “So what’s your battered book?”

“Hm?”

“Your favorite,” you clarify. “The book that’s all war torn and full of nonsensical annotations.”

He thinks for a minute. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “I have a few I go back and forth between, but lately it’s been The Secret History.”

You have to cover your mouth with a hand to hide the full breadth of your smile, and Remus narrows his eyes at you.

“What?” he asks.

“That book is so depressing.” You shake your head, delighted at being so right. “I mean, it’s beautifully written,” you amend. “Really gorgeous. I’m just not sure I found the plot as compelling as the prose.”

His mouth actually drops open. You can’t tell how much of the shock is teasing and how much is real. “You thought that book had no plot?”

“No, I mean, plenty happened.” You turn to face him, forgetting about the books around you for a moment to focus on this one. “But I felt like it happened so slowly, and there was so much in between that was just tons of description. It was like they almost skimmed over the murder part! There were so many plotlines that were brought in and then just disappeared, though I guess I can respect the ways in which it reflected real life.”

You think for a second that Remus might argue with you (he should, really—it’s his favorite book and you’re slandering it), but he keeps his mouth shut, watching you interestedly.

“And don’t you think Richard was a bit passive? Henry and Bunny had so much going on, but the narrator could have literally been a fly on the wall the whole time. He kind of reminds me of Nick Carroway, you know?”

“From the Great Gastby?” He tilts his head, eyes squinting a bit (it’s devastatingly cute). “How’s that?”

“Just, they’re both such flat characters.” You frown. “I don’t really think either of them needed to be in the story at all. I mean, having a narrator that’s a character with no personality is effectively the same as having a non-omniscient third-person narrator, right?”

Remus is biting the inside corner of his lips like he’s trying not to smile. “Right.”

“What?”

“I’m just thinking that I need to get you talking about books more often,” he says. And that’s real affection in his eyes, mixed in with the humor.

You look down, grinning at the front of your shirt, but his little smile doesn’t waver.

“Shouldn’t be hard,” you say. An awkward, obvious sidestep of the compliment, but he lets you get away with it. “Your turn. Let’s go to your section.”

He shrugs. “If you think you can stand it,” he says, but starts moving in that direction. You notice he’s still holding the copy of your favorite book.

“Aren’t you going to put that back?”

“No.” He doesn’t need to look down to know what you’re talking about. “You’ve already torn one of my choice novels to shreds, now it’s my turn to read yours.”

A little bite of nervousness snips behind your belly button even as his sidelong look lets you know he’s only joking. “You could always borrow mine.”

Remus blinks. “I’m flattered that you’d trust me with it,” he says, and it almost has you blushing again, that he knows the significance of you offering him your copy, “but I think I’ll read the un-annotated version first. But if the offer still stands after I’m finished, I’d love to read your thoughts on it.”

He says it like it’s nothing. Like taking the time to read your favorite book twice, just so he can get to know you more thoroughly, isn’t the sweetest thing anyone’s ever so much as thought of doing for you. You worry that if you look down, your heart will be glowing right through your shirt.

“Alright.” You muster your courage, taking him by the hand. “But now we also have to find one to read together.”

Remus has looked down at your joined hands, something like shyness coloring his expression, but he looks up to quirk an eyebrow at you. “Are you so sure we’ll be able to find something we can agree upon?” “So long as it involves a main character that actually does something, I think we can manage.”

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venusacrossthestars · 3 months

Text

barbies

Pairings- Dad!Daniel x Mom! Reader

WC-1.1k

Summary- Daniel does in fact not know how to play Barbies

f1 masterlist

A/N- anytime I can slander Tika I will. IYKYK

Daniel had thought that he had the whole girl-dad thing down. He knew how to act during tea parties. He knew not to move during makeovers. He would sing, albeit terribly, during the Princes part of Disney song just so his little girl could focus on singing the Princesses part. He thought he had it all down, but there was one thing he couldn’t master for the life of him- playing Barbies.

Everytime Charlotte asked him to play it always ended in frustration for both parties. It seemed that no matter what he did it was always wrong. On one occasion he had Robert, the Ken doll that was affectionately renamed, and Charlotte her Barbie- Margot.

Daniel was laying on the floor, acting his part believing all was well. “Well don’t you look radiant today darling,” he said as he walked Robert into the Dreamhouse.

This was all it took to set off the six year old, “No daddy! Robert doesn’t call Margot ‘darling’ he calls her babe and Margot calls him honey.”

“Well why can’t he call her darling?” Daniel, genuinely curious as to why it mattered.

“Because you always call mommy babe and she always calls you honey,” she stated it as the most obvious fact in the world.

Daniel found it adorable that your daughter took notice of something as small as pet names and integrated it into her own little world. However, she wasn’t amused. “Daddy, you don’t have to play anymore, I can play by myself now.” She said, taking Robert out of Daniels hand. He didn’t have the courage to argue, knowing how particular she was when it came to playing with her Barbies.

Later that night, long after Charlotte had gone to bed, the two of you sat in bed watching reruns of your favorite show.

“Your daughter is very picky about her pet names for her Barbies,” Daniel tells you, remembering the incident that happened earlier.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Very much so, Robert only calls Margot ‘babe’ and she only calls him ‘honey’, and you want to know what she told me?” You hum in curiosity, Daniel continues, “its because those are the pet names we call each other. She then proceeded to relieve me of my Barbie duties.”

“As she should, playing Barbies is very serious business.” You tease back. “I was the same way.”

“Why is it so hard to play dolls,” Daniel buries his head into his pillow.

“Don’t worry honey,” you rub his back in soothing circles, “maybe one day you’ll get the hang of it.”

“You never have problems when you play with her.”

“You forget that I was a little girl once.”

Every time Daniel, in his words, fucked up playing Barbies he noticed that Charlotte wouldn’t ask him to play dolls with her for a couple days. He didn’t want to sound childish, but it did in fact hurt his feelings.

As usual, days passed before Charlotte asked him to play again. And as usual Daniel had somehow screwed up, but this was no ordinary screw up, this was monumental. He didn’t even know what he did wrong, things were going so well until they weren’t.

“Mommy!” The little girl yelled, “mommy!”

“What?!” Your voice carried throughout the house.

“Daddy isn’t playing Barbies right.” She whined.

In a matter of seconds you appeared in the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest, “what’s going on?”

“I have no idea,” Daniel admits, “we’re sitting here and all of the sudden I’m not doing it right.”

“Charlotte, baby, remember what I told you?” you remind your daughter.

She nods in response, “I’m sorry daddy, I know you don’t know how to play Barbies.”

Daniel looks flabbergasted at what his daughter has just said to him and looks at you through squinted eyes. “You told her I don’t know how to play Barbies?”

“No, I told her you don’t know how to play the real version of Barbies, you think you know how to, but in reality you play the straight man way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Baby, how about you and me show daddy how we play Barbies?” You ask your daughter, whose face lights up in excitement. She gets up and hurries over to her bin of Barbies to pull out your designated Barbie, Lisa.

You move into the room and sit next to Daniel, “watch and learn from the master.”

The three of begin to play and Daniel thinks all is normal, you are doing everything that he typically does, but things quickly take a turn.

You walk up Lisa to Robert, “Hiiiii Robert, you look good today.”

Charlotte, well Margot, quickly interrupts, “why are you talking to my man?” Daniels eyes widen, where did she learn this from?

“I was just giving him a compliment Marggie.”

Charlotte shakes Margot in faux rage, “how many times do I have to tell you that my name is Margot.”

“Well I think its just the cutest nickname, don’t you Robbie?” You turn Lisa’s attention to the Ken doll Daniel is holding. Daniel doesn’t move or say anything.

“Are you going to let her talk to me like that Robert?” His daughter- no- Margot questions.

“See he agrees with me,” you move the dolls hand so it is now resting on Roberts shoulder.

This proceeds to set your daughter off. “I have had it with you and your flirting towards my boyfriend!”

“Well what are you going to do about it?” You taunt.

“I’ll show you what!” Charlotte exclaims and then lunges towards you and Lisa.

Daniel just sits in shock, the noise of plastic colliding, your mock ow’s between giggles, and Charlotte’s laughter fills his ears. When he thought of Barbies he always thought of dressing up dolls, making little families, all that soft stuff. Not this.

“You alright over there honey?” You ask your husband, who just continues to stare in disbelief “Charlotte I think we broke your father.”

“I’ve never seen anyone play Barbies like this.”

“Well this is how I’ve always played, but my mom did say once that I played…. Uniquely,” you shrug.

“That was fun!” Charlotte exclaims, throwing herself into your arms.

You cradle her close to your chest, “I’m glad, did you learn anything?”

“Yeah,” Daniel responds, “that I truly know nothing about playing barbies.”

“This is mild compared to the scenarios I made up,” you admit.

“This. Mild? What did you do to your dolls woman?”

“I’m not telling you with such influenceable ears around.”

“My God,” is all Daniel can manage out.

“Hey, don’t judge me.”

“I’m just rethinking my life choices.”

“You asked me to marry you, you knew fully well what you were getting yourself into.”

“Mommy?” Charlotte interjects, “can we watch one of those old barbie movies?”

You groan. “They aren’t even that old!” You exclaim. “Which one did you want to watch?”

“The Island Princess one!”

At that Daniel groans, “that’s the one with the annoying elephant isn’t it?”

taglist- crossed out names mean I couldn't tag you

@arieslost @miaa1001 @babybadger @k3nmakyan @livelovesports @aspens-trees @yeetskeetstreet @racingheartsposts @emmma232 @isalovestaylor @imchiarashelby1 @m4dyi @melissayalene-blog @gothicwidowsworld @lizzieolsenfan86 @firestormsandlightning @erjn45 @evelyn-4034 @vkncgzxf @naaanasworld @ladyoflynx @bre99 @foulsongfest @teenagedramqueen @kstyles-06 @asparklysoul @kodzzukenn @snakelore @lochnoch @hhppw7 @whentheautumnleavesfall @gxuh @clarasmagic @xoxonoire @annahowardsworld @estellabookreader @user2604 @babysitter19 @dylan-obrienn24 @sadisticfries @cocote1410 @prettylittlels @itsbwokenln4 @amandaauroraelli @wargetter @happylittlereader @2502zena @bathedinheat @itsmeeluciie @olivyamarvelgirl @justtprachisblog @its-cat-eyes @embonbon @nickxcorpse @accnt-1 @cosmoscoffeee @phantomxoxo @caramelahamilton @inejismylife @iloved111lfs @caseket @selsbackyard @alex0808 @blueberrysmoothie673 @sergantbarnesbitch @a-disturbing-self-reflection @bethiebeth12 @thereisa8ella @giada-chan @slaygirlbossworld @chuchiestpt

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo

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bon2bonn · 7 months

Text

Weathering your Storm

° The winds are howling

With summer break around the corner , it's just one weekend . What could go wrong ?, Well........ , Seb , Lewis and Daniel are about to find out.

*The start of the 22!23! Grid!AU !

*requests and questions are open so don't be shy ! ✨

2022!F1 grid X female!driver!reader

Sebastian vettel , Daniel Ricciardo, Lewis Hamilton X female!driver!reader.

Words count : around 1.4k

Warnings : grammar, cursing,sad girl hours, mercedes slander(not really), McLaren, I'm missing up the timeline but it's fun , not proof read nor edited .

leaving the media pen brought y/n relief as she's finally able to stretch her legs and get some fresh air away from the bustling reporters asking the same questions over and over again and buzzing teams finishing interviews and packaging garages after the race .

She avoided her team's garage like a plague , having to witness as the engineers pushed her car back in was more than too much for her to handle , so she opted for walking around trying to clear her mind before it goes on to a spiral.

Spotting Sebastian's green team shirt alongside Lewis and chatting among themselves down the pit wall she made a beeline for them . "Hello gentlemen . seb, Lewie " she greats them cheerfully as she gave each one a hug as they congratulate her before settling back beside Seb as he nudged her shoulder teasing " p3 , not so bad huh? " causing her to smile bashfully at him , Lewis pumped his fist with her's " great driving out there " , "thank you " she said with a beaming smile " yeah those last 3 lap were from hell , Sainz almost got my ass " both looked amused at her ranting post race as she always dragged them to listen , not like they were complaining as they adored how she went on giving them her full review with them giving her input here and there .

after a while of catching up they noticed how uncharacteristically quite she got while looking around searching for something or rather someone but before they could ask she perked up as Danny barged over lifting her in a tight hug shaking her around while exclaiming loudly "demon spawn!" And she returned the hug letting out a loud "Ricky Martin!" The other just stood there used to their antics same as everyone around them as they love to tease (bully) eachother around the paddock .

She turned to Danny giving him a wide grin" you're right on time , I was about to send out searching party " he nudged her shoulder " awww , I didn't know you'd miss my charming personality and handsome face that much " she scoffed at him " as if " he stepped back hand on his heart dramatically whining " you've wounded my delicate heart !" That got him a kick in the shin from her before she grinned back at him " stop with you theatrics , I have a great idea , we should start our own F1 support group !" mildly amused he threw her a wide grin " I'm all in baby , but what for?" So she looked at the other two drivers maintaining her wide grin as she lowered her voice to avoid any preying ears "well , mainly for you , Mick and Seb , but I'll be needing it too . my lovely team pulled a McLaren because guess who's mercedes dropping during the summer break ? , to give you a hint it's not Lewis" .

The three of them stood still staring at her as if she'd grown a second head , Danny was the first to snap out laughing "nice one mate ! That Almost got me" after a moment of silence Sebastian signals to him and he immediately reached to cover her ears as he cursed loudly "that's fucking bullshit , why the fuck would they ?" As she just stood there waiting for him to finish , Lewis just stared at her bewildered " what do you mean they are dropping you ? They can't do that , you're competing for the championship in that tin can excuse of a car incase they've forgotten about the standings ! Hell ! We both got a contract till 24 _ 25 they can't just drop it".

she just shrugged " well , they sure can and already did so ....." Danny's eyes couldn't get wider "what?!" So she gave them a nonchalant hand wave "starting from tonight I'm officially an unemployed F1 driver , they bought my contract and sent me out the door" Lewis interrupted " but Toto...." Only for her to shake her head " he sat me down along with the team management , PR and legal team which explains why they were lurking around lately , and both my lawyer and Manager out of nowhere and went on about the team and the drivers , how the last two years were great for the team bonding building a solid foundation and all of the usual pe-race briefing no big deal right ? , He went on talking about my contract which was odd because I knew wouldn't be up till 24 at least with great possiblity of extension , and how I have a promising future in the sport but not with them and I honestly just zoned out after that ,up until they gave me an offer out of of guilt or pity I guess to drive for Williams alongside Albon " that got Danny's attention "what about Russell?" So she whispered to him to subtly hold both Lewis and seb back as they both were close to marching over mercedes demanding answers after her declaring " they finalized singing him today for the next three seasons so starting from SPA he'll be driving full time for mercedes , that's net even the worst part , apparently they were discussing the position since the beginning of the previous season but they wanted me out with the least PR damages so now is the best chance to do so after most teams got their seats confirmed for next season so here I am " .

"Wait so you're telling me that everyone knew except us ? " she shrugged "pretty much, yeah " , "bono?" , " He knew" , " sussie?" , "Nodding "yup" , "James?" , "Uhuh , he was all in for the change" , "fucking hell!", "Exactly" she shrugged " they even decided they won't even announce any of it till Spa " . Daniel whistled in astonishment " wait until Nando hear about this " causing them to grimace only thinking what he'd possibly do " oh he already know ! Found him this morning cornering Toto in the garage , don't know what he said but by the time I got him he was done , talking about too many witnesses " , that got seb to realize as he voiced out concerned " that's why he seemed so cryptic , well more than usual, he asked me to get ready to head out to Brackley headquarters for some urgent business had to talk him out of it " she snorted" Don't be so sure , He asked me to join too right before quali so I reckon that talk didn't do much , Kimi is in it too so .... Yeah ".

Silence overtook them as their somber faces took her demeanor in , her now fidgeting fingers , tense shoulders , and strained smile , seb stepped up giving her a tight hug whispering " are you okay?" And she reciprocated with a strained voice " yeah , it's just didn't hit me yet so I would give it two to three days to fully set in but right now, everything is shitty and I want to cry but I'm too angry to cry so now I'm hungry , I want ice cream ". That earned her a sympathetic smile from Lewis as he pulled her next " I known darling , let's grab our things and I promise you we'll get you as much of ice cream as you want okay? ", " Okay , but I'm not going there , I can't , they're taking down my name and number off of everything" she let out with a small voice as he sighed heavily "already!? They couldn't wait?" Shaking his head while heading up to their drivers rooms .

Danny put his arm around her shoulders swaying them as he reminded " it might be so shitty and as bad as it seems , but we've got you okay? You'll find us there whenever you need us , you're stuck with us for good , and if you wanna burn down you know what , you know where ........." Seb snapped. " no one is burning anything!" Only for him to carry on pretending to whisper " we won't tell him " causing her to let a loud giggles at how serious Daniel was and how seb was trying to tell him off of it ." Just know you won't be alone in this".

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loupy-mongoose · 2 months

Text

I had fun writing this part, and got it done quickly. :>

Speech guide; Randy's speech Jamie's speech (Pokespeak in parentheses)

PREVIOUS NEXT

~~~~~~

After walking a good ways, the group arrived at a cozy looking house with shrubbery in front of a covered porch, located at the edge of the woods surrounding the town.

On it, sitting on a porch swing, was a blond man, his head facing away from them. Soon, he turned to the approaching group. And as soon as he saw them, he stood up with a wide smile and shimmering eyes. Randy noticed what appeared to be dark claw scars down his cheek, and a white scarf was wrapped around his wrist.

Suddenly, Jamie broke into a brisk run, meeting the man at the bottom of the porch steps. Without breaking stride, she leapt into him, flinging her arms around his neck. He lost his footing and fell into a sit on one of the steps. But his face was that of pure joy as he pulled the small girl into a full hug.

As the Linden trio caught up to their escort, Randy saw her give the man a peck on the cheek. She then got up off of him, allowing him to stand as well. Pari floated over and nuzzled him fondly before draping herself over his shoulder.

The man scanned them with a friendly smile that shone in his green eyes, eventually holding his gaze on Lav. I don't mean to be presumptuous, but... He pointed at her with both hands. I'm guessing you're Lavender?

Randy looked to his daughter to see her give a shy smile and a nod.

He turned back to the man, who, although it was hard to tell in the fading light of day, appeared to be as tall as Randy himself. ...No, maybe a wee bit taller...

Yes, this is Lavender. He placed his hand on her shoulder. He then motioned the hand that was still in Akoya's. And this is her mother and my wife, Akoya. I'm Randall. Linden.

The man reached out to shake hands with Randy. I'm Cody Rennard. It's wonderful to meet you all!

It's nice to meet you too, Cody. Akoya took her turn to shake. You're a breath of fresh air next to Jamie.

Randy gave her a sharp look. Akoya, that's a little rude.

She's right, though.

Randy turned to Jamie in surprise. The girl had gone up onto the porch and was sitting on a stool, wiping her feet thoroughly with a wet cloth and a bucket of water. She shrugged as she worked, giving him a blank look. I know how hard I am to get along with.

Hey now, I won't take any slander against my wife with our guests. Cody pointed at her in playful anger. Including from her own mouth.

Randy and Akoya's eyes widened. Wife??

The man gave them a toothy smile. Yeah! Been married five years now.

Five years?? How old is she?? I thought she was a kid! Akoya was absolutely flabbergasted. She's as tall as Lav!

Randy attempted to stop her, to dial her back a bit, but he had to admit he was surprised too.

I'm twenty-six. Jamie stood up and stretched, a gleam of amusement flashing in her icy gaze. But as she relaxed, it vanished and left only exhaustion. And tired. Let's go inside.

Oh! Hey! Cody gestured to the newcomers to follow them into the house, but he spoke to Jamie as he held the door open for them all. I got a surprise for you, but it's to share with our guests too. If they want any, of course. I'm sure they'll get eaten regardless~

Jamie looked up at the blond man, her eyes shimmering in curiosity, as she walked past him into the house.

Randy saw the girl sniff the air and look around.

Oh!

He followed her line of sight to see two short boxes stacked on each other on a bar counter. She bound over to them, her tiredness seemingly forgotten. Cody you're amazing! Thank you so much!

Donuts? Lav's eyes twinkled longingly, and she looked up at Cody. Can I have one?

The blond man smiled at her, giving a flourishing motion toward the donuts. I did say she had to share.

Lav nervously approached the counter. Jamie had seated herself on a tall swiveling chair and bit into one. Randy felt a rush of joy as the red-haired girl--or, woman, apparently--handed the box carefully out so Lav could take one.

Thank you, Miss Jamie. He couldn't see his daughter's face, but could feel the same joy flash from her as she took a donut.

Jamie gave her a nod. Mm-hm! She then turned to Randy and Akoya, for the first time appearing at ease and genuinely friendly. Want some?

Akoya shook her head, and Randy held his hand up politely. No thank you. We're not too into sweet stuff.

Mm. Jamie placed the box back on the counter and took a second donut. More for us then.

So... Randy turned to Cody. Is... is this where we'll be staying? H-how much do you even know?

I know that you're here to see someone named Nicodemus, who's the mate of the Mew Jovie. And if you want to, then you're very welcome to stay here! I'm sure Jamie's brother and sister-in-law would gladly let you stay with them too, but I like having guests. He gave them a warm grin. Adds some spice to life, you know?

Could we see our room, then? We have a lot to discuss.

Cody began to move further into the house. Of course! Right this way!

Wait.

They all turned to Jamie as she hopped off the seat. She steadily met the eyes of the Lindens, alternating between the three, her icy gaze glimmering seriously.

(Cody needs to know about the Mews)

Randy felt his blood chill, and could feel sparks of fury flickering off of his wife. He glanced at Cody, trying to gauge his reaction.

(Don't worry, he can't understand me.)

(But he should know. He's far, FAR less likely to hurt them than I am.) Akoya's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Jamie looked at her as she went on. (That's not to say I would. Whoever those Mews are to you guys... I guarantee they'll be well protected and welcome here.)

For the first time, Pari spoke from her perch on Cody's shoulder.

(He'll be so happy to see them, I promise!)

It wasn't hard for the Lindens to make up their minds.

The energy they got from Cody was vastly different from Jamie's--Randy had to admit, it was far more welcoming.

Even besides that...

He literally had a Mew vouching for him.

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

Bit of a shorty this time. Unfortunately gotta wait 'til next one for Mew Reveal 2: Electric Boogaloo. (I need room for it, hehehe~)

#Linden Roots #full #writing #art

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deakyjoe · 1 year

Text

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 2

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (she/her pronouns used, reader is implied British and given backstory)

Category: I still don’t know but it’s coming together

Summary: On a night out with your friends, you’re pleasantly surprised to run into your secret observer.

Warnings: flirting (Ghost and reader getting some action, they deserve it), mentions of war/death, talks of scars, alcohol consumption, Ghost being normal AND weird, the mask is off again, Ghost doing domestic things almost (socialisation in a pub), sexual references, family issues, reader’s friends are intense, British terminology/slang, swearing/cursing, dialogue heavy, minute Soap slander (I love him but couldn’t resist)

Word Count: 5.5k (longer than part 1)

A/N: After the love I got for part 1, I decided to continue so Simon is still my babygirl. Please remember that if Simon feels out of character, that’s the point of this story. It’s him when he’s not being Ghost but being forced to mix aspects of his life at home and his life at work - the work aspects being reader. Also he’s going out of his comfort zone to please the sergeant (you) because he likes you but just hasn’t really realised it yet. Not entirely sure I’m as pleased with this part as I was with the first but we’re posting anyway!

Part 1 available here.

Part 3 available here.

It took weeks before your friends finally managed to convince you to join them on a night out. You'd been putting it off for a number of reasons. One being that the thought of socialising in a crowded environment had you wanting to gouge your eyes out as you'd grown used to little to no company. Another being that you genuinely thought it'd be overwhelming and you might have a panic attack.

But after they'd assured you that they'd look after you and you could all leave if it got to be too much, you relented and organised a time and place with them. Just your local pub on a Wednesday night. You'd decided on a Wednesday as you hoped it wouldn't be too crowded and that your friends might need a pick-me-up in the middle of their work weeks. They agreed quickly with the idea.

And honestly it'd been nice for the most part. You'd arrived early, you swear active duty had made you so time efficient that you spent almost no time at all getting ready, and sat down at a table in the corner, out of sights of the most of the rest of the pub. The only thing in direct eye line was the bar itself which would come in handy when you needed to go up and order drinks.

Your friends all slowly arrived, none of them being too late, and gave you big greetings as they hadn't seen you in "forever" they claimed. You returned hugs and kisses and prepared yourself for a night of bombarding questions and retelling of war stories.

A couple of your girlfriends were bought drinks by guys at the bar and you watched on in amusement as they giggled about it together. They assured you that someone would probably buy you a drink if you asked but you waved them off saying you didn't care, which you didn't.

You listened intently as they all told you what was happening with their lives - work, significant others, kids, families, pets, parties, weddings, funerals, birthdays, anything and everything you could possibly imagine. A note of envy settled in your stomach at one point but it went away quickly when you told yourself you were being silly.

Telling them about your life was slightly more complicated. You had to skirt around some of the details of your job as it was classified and would probably horrify them if they knew what you truly did. You gushed about some of the amazing people you'd met and mentioned casually that you'd actually bumped into your lieutenant in the supermarket. They all absorbed it with wide eyes of wonder and amazement, each of them having at least one question to ask.

"So, wait, you can actually shoot a gun?"

"Does it bother you having to bunk with a bunch of blokes?"

“What’s said country like?”

"Are any of them fit?"

"Isn't it tiring?"

"How long until you go back?"

"Met anyone you fancy?"

"Hang on, you have to share a communal bathroom?"

Yes, it's alright, not really, they're okay, very, not sure, oh my god, yeah.

They never really seemed satisfied with your answers and always wanted you to elaborate. Which you did if possible.

Overall, it was nice. There was no sense of impending doom or a weird feeling in your stomach about the whole thing. You let your guard down just enough for once to attempt to have a good time. Which you did. You laughed, you chatted, you drank, it was good.

Until the bar tender came over with a drink that looked exactly like what you usually ordered.

And when he placed it in front of you, you wanted to throw up.

"Fella at the bar bought this for you."

This was it. The moment in the night that you looked forward to the least and the moment your friends had been encouraging the most. They insisted that you needed to "put yourself out there more" and “try to get laid at some point”. You were "too uptight" as they put it. Little did they know that you weren't really interested in a quick shag or even a relationship with anyone at the moment. And rejecting someone was always awful. Every time they asked why and having to explain that your job made romantic entanglements extremely hard made things awkward.

"Ooh, this is so exciting!" One of your friends squealed beside you, frantically searching the bar for the culprit. "Which one?"

“Blond one.”

Oh.

"Tall."

My.

"Scars on his face."

God.

Your eyes shot towards the bar and immediately landed on him. Of course he was already looking your way with his drink raised to you.

"Shit." You cursed, silently letting out a sigh of relief that it wasn't someone you'd have to reject but all the more anxious because it was him. A part of you was very excited to see him though.

"What is it? Do you know him?" Another friend asked you.

"He's my lieutenant. Fuck." You stood from your seat, grabbing the drink.

"The one from the shops?"

"Yeah. I'll be back in a minute, guys. I'm just gonna go say hi." You explained, slowly making your way towards Ghost.

"Take your time!"

You hadn't seen your lieutenant since he'd gone over to your place for tea. It was a weird experience. Weirder than the shops. You'd had a couple cups of tea each, shared his packet of chocolate digestive biscuits, which he'd kindly offered to you, chatted a little more and then he'd left. You didn't exchange phone numbers or even offer to see each other again. He didn't because he probably didn't want to and you didn't because you thought he probably wouldn't want to. So you'd gone your separate ways and that was that.

As you got closer to him, you wished you hadn't had so much to drink. You weren't drunk but you weren’t sober either. Kind of just bordering the edges between being buzzed and tipsy.

"Simon."

He turned so his body was facing yours, his large frame consumed the stool he was sitting on. Intimidating and alluring all at once. "Sergeant."

"You really should start calling me by my name." You sighed, stopping to stand in front of him.

"I like calling you sergeant."

"And I liked calling you lieutenant." You shot back, taking a sip of your drink despite your head screaming at you not to.

"Bet you like calling me Simon more."

Your eyes widened at his statement. He wasn't wrong but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "Thanks for the drink, by the way."

"It's no problem. Thought I owed you for the bourbon."

You hummed in agreement but said nothing.

"Friends of yours?" He nodded towards your table where all of them were watching the two of you interact intently.

"Uh, yeah. First night out since being home so..." You shrugged.

"Having fun?"

"I was." You regretted your words immediately, knowing that you’d been insensitive.

"Ruined it, did I?" He asked but it wasn't malicious.

"No. Just... unexpected."

He nodded. "So, which one's your boyfriend?"

You were surprised at the question. Last time he'd enquired about your personal life it hadn't gone so well.

"You live alone?"

"Yeah. Used to have a hamster but he died a few months back."

He blinked at you and said nothing so you rushed off to make tea, desperately trying to come up with a new topic to talk about when you got back to him.

"That's presumptuous of you, lieutenant."

"Just making conversation with you, sergeant." The return of dropping rank had you tingling inside. Might have just been the alcohol though.

You huffed. "None of them."

"Girlfriend then?"

You shook your head. "Nope."

"Sorry soul you're torturing with your affection couldn't make it then? What a shame." His eyes narrowed, you presumed he was joking.

"I'll ignore that insult. I'm single." Setting your drink on the surface of the bar, you leant your hip against the side but not before taking a step closer to him.

"Lucky for the world then that you're not burdening anyone with yourself."

"Jesus, Simon." You laughed out of shock, struck with his bluntness.

"Had to be said."

"Huh, you really are a charmer." You flashed him a glimpse of your teeth in a small smile, brows raising on the last word of your sentence.

"I try my best.” Pause. “Why are you single?"

"Because my affection is a burden apparently." Repeating his own words back to him seemed better than explaining your depressing void of no romance in your life because of your job. But maybe he’d understand.

"I'm serious."

"Why do you care?"

Simon didn’t strike you as the kind of person who gave a shit about the love lives of people he worked with. So why did he seem so interested in yours?

He didn't answer straight away and when he did, it seemed rehearsed. "You're my sergeant, part of my team. It's my role to care."

"To make sure I stay alive. Not to inquire about my love life." You were properly frowning at him now.

Ghost raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry I asked."

With a sigh, you relented. "The job."

"Go on…"

"Makes it difficult. The job makes it difficult to date. Especially civilians." You added the last bit on with clenched teeth. It didn’t really matter. Civilians were not on your romantic radar.

"Would you want to date a civilian?"

He saw straight through you.

"No, not really."

"Hmm."

You wanted to avoid discussing the topic any further so asked a question to change the subject. "What're you drinking?"

"Scotch that Soap recommended."

"And?"

He swished the glass around, the ice clinking against the side. "Utter shite."

"Figures." You took a long look at his drink. “You drink it on the rocks.”

“Tastes better cold. Less shit.”

“That your second glass?”

"Monitoring my alcohol intake, sergeant?” He asked and you shook your head as he looked you up and down. “You gonna take a seat or just stand there all day?"

"I'm supposed to be going back to my friends." You gestured weakly over your shoulder with your thumb, kind of forgetting they’d still been there until that moment.

His eyes flickered between the table and you. "Think we both know that isn't happening any time soon."

You hated how he saw straight through you. "Do we?"

"We do. Take a seat, sergeant." He nodded towards the stool next to him.

You stood up straighter, making a point to look directly into his eyes. "I like being eye level with you."

His foot hooked around the back of your legs and tugged you closer to him. "Think you'll find that I've still got a couple inches on you."

Your skin flushed hot, he was so close to you. You reached out and tapped his chest a couple times before realising what you were doing and removed your hand. "Think you'll find that you've had a bit too much to drink, sir."

"Simon. Thought we'd established that you can call me Simon." He leant back a little bit, relaxing in his seat. “And thought we agreed that you weren’t monitoring my alcohol intake.”

"Sorry." You squeaked.

"Sorry who?"

With a smile, you looked up at him through your lashes. You already knew what you were going to say. "Sorry... Lieutenant Riley."

He smiled. Actually smiled. It was small but it was unmistakable. "Brat."

He was beautiful when he smiled. He was always beautiful but when Simon Riley smiled… he was radiant.

You lit up at the smile but glowered at the insult. "Simon!"

"It's true." He shrugged, taking another mouthful of his drink and wincing at the taste.

"I'm stubborn. Not a brat."

"Believe me, I know you're stubborn. You've almost died like twelve times because you're stubborn. Had to save you every time." He shook his head as if it were a grievance to him.

"Could've left me behind."

"Couldn't do that. I'm your lieutenant, remember? My role is to keep you alive."

"I'm sure Price would let it slide if you had good enough reason." You thought about your Captain and wondered if he'd let you die for a good enough cause. Probably. But you held no resentment towards that fact.

Simon's head tilted to the side as he watched you think. "Don't think he'd accept brat as a reason, hm?"

You raised a finger to correct him. "Stubborn. Not a brat."

"Definitely a brat."

"Stop calling me that." You whined.

"That was the brattiest thing you've ever said. In the brattiest voice." He glared down at you. "You whined."

"You're such a dickhead, Simon." You scoffed but it was clear you were holding back a smile.

"And you're a brat. Guess we're even."

"Okay, I'm going back to my friends. To get away from this targeted attack." You paused. "Unless you want to join."

"I'll pass."

"I guessed. Do you have any friends? Maybe you could use the socialisation." You offered, wondering whether the man ever spoke to anyone when he was home or if he completely isolated himself from the rest of the world.

"Don't have friends for a reason."

That answered that for you.

"And what's that?"

"Ask too many personal questions."

He had a valid point. People did ask too many personal questions and you could understand why someone like Simon wouldn't like that.

"They wouldn't. My friends. They know we tend to be... private."

"You're a sergeant and I'm a lieutenant. Neither of us are privates." He paused to let the joke settle in. "A little army humour."

"I got it. That was good." You beamed at him, eyes crinkling in the corners at his quip.

"How much do they know of what we do?" He nodded in the direction of your friends.

You thought it over for a moment. "Very little. They know more about my teammates than anything else. Even that is limited."

He stiffened at that. "What do they know of me?"

"My quiet lieutenant with no face. Until recently." You let your eyes roam his features, taking all of him in. He was remarkable to look at really. But you'd never voice that to him.

"Hmm."

"There's more but I won't divulge with you." It was a partial joke to mess with him a little. There was some truth behind it however. You may or may not have gushed about your lieutenant to your friends. But that was nothing really. Just friendly appreciation for the man who outranked you.

"That makes me nervous."

Playing with him was too easy and too fun. "You should be."

"I'm reconsidering sitting with you and your friends now." He frowned but wasn't completely serious.

That surprised you. "You were going to?"

"Maybe." He drank more of the Scotch and trembled. "Christ, this stuff is fucking disgusting."

"Order a bourbon, something you know you actually like." You sighed. "Please do. If they're too much we can leave."

"We?" He was always questioning we.

You rolled your eyes at him. "It's always we. Teammates, y'know?"

A level of unsureness settled over his face. "I know."

"Get used to a lot of we then."

"Don't plan on seeing you again after this." The admittance stung but you weren't going to let that stop you.

"I'm sure you thought that last time as well. But here we are. Are you stalking me?" There was a hint of genuineness in the question. There was no way this second chance encounter was pure coincidence.

He shook his head, waving the bar tender over and ordering a bourbon like you'd suggested. "You're too boring for that."

"You have such a way with words. Really know how to make a lady feel special." You said dryly.

"It's a gift." He scratched at the side of his nose, absentmindedly trailing a finger over one of his scars in the process.

"They wouldn't say anything, y'know? Or stare. If you're worried about that. I've come home with my fair share of scars over the years. They understand." You pulled the neckline of your shirt to the side to show off an old bullet wound that had scarred over on your collar bone.

Simon's eyes lingered on the mark on your skin but you couldn't quite read his expression. "People always stare."

"I don't."

"No, you don't." He hesitated. "Okay then."

"Wait, really?" You perked up.

"Yes, really. Quickly. Before I change my mind, sergeant." He rose from his seat, grabbing his drink and gesturing for you to go first.

You gazed up at him. It really was easy to forget just how big he was. "Quick question first?"

He didn't seem keen. "Go ahead."

"How long were you here watching me before you sent the drink over?" You really needed to know, to see how out of it you were.

"Not long." Lie.

Your brow furrowed. "How long, Simon?"

"About forty minutes."

Your eyes widened. You didn't expect it to have been that long. "Fort- Jesus. And I didn't notice you?"

He brushed you off with a small shrug. "You were having fun. Guard was down."

"Still."

"Don't dwell on it. I was just going to leave and not let you know I was here." His eyes moved away from you, the opposite side of his eye contact problem showing.

You ducked to the side to meet his gaze again. "Why didn't you?"

He shrugged again.

You offered him a small slip of affection, just the tiniest thing. "I'm glad you didn't."

He grunted in reply, which was more than you were expecting. So, you just gestured for him to follow you towards the table of your friends where you stopped short a couple feet away. You sent a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure that Simon was still, in fact, there and hadn't pulled a Ghost and disappeared. But he was still standing there watching you when you checked. Which meant it was time for introductions... which you sucked at.

"Everybody, this is Simon. My lieutenant. Simon this is... everybody." You frowned at the crowded table in front of you. "You'll pick up names. It's alright that he joins us, yeah?"

“Of course.”

"Yeah."

"Oh, my god, yes."

"Take a seat, mate."

"Where you from, Simon?"

"Manchester."

"Ugh, he's a Manc! Moving on!"

You laughed as you squeezed into the booth with Simon next to you, trying not to touch him too much. "What did I miss? What are we talking about?"

"My husband is cheating on me." One of your friends announced dramatically.

Your eyes widened at the confession. "What? Really?"

"I suspect he is." She pouted, slumping forward onto the table.

"As if. He worships the ground you walk on. As he should. What makes you think he's cheating?" You debated whether this was a good topic to be talking about with your lieutenant sat right there. But then you figured that Simon needed some friends. And what was a better way to make friends than through some old-fashioned gossip?

"Late nights as work. Going to the gym a lot. He's not getting any fitter either."

You winced. "Ah, well that is quite damning."

"Yeah. I'm trying to build up the courage to just ask him about it."

"Yeah, confront him. If he's cheating then come to me. I know how to use a gun and hide a body." You winked at her.

"Sergeant." Simon's warning tone came from beside you.

"I'm kidding, lieutenant." You looked to your friend again and mouthed. "I'm not."

Another one of your friends spoke up, leaning on the table on his elbows. "God, you guys are so formal. Even during leave."

"We don't have to be. He refuses to call me anything other than sergeant. I think it's because he secretly doesn't know my name." You nudged Simon with your elbow and then, realising what you'd done, pulled back quickly. Maybe taking a break from the drink would be a good idea for a while.

"Not true." Ghost shook his head slowly.

"So you claim. Yet you've yet to refer to me as anything other than sergeant."

"It's fun watching you squirm thinking you have to be on your best behaviour all the time." He sent you a sly smirk, his eyes squinting just the tiniest bit.

Your jaw dropped. "I'm asking Price to reassign me. This is bullying."

"Wouldn't let Price do it." He countered, leaning in dangerously close.

"Who's Price?"

The both of you pulled back at the question and answered simultaneously. "Captain."

"Ah, okay. The one with the mutton chops, right?" One friend offered.

You nodded. "Right."

Simon huffed. "That's what you told them about Price?"

"It's his best feature."

"Christ, woman." He groaned, rubbing a hand across his face.

"Ooh, woman's a new one."

A friend volunteered in your defence. "To be fair, she's not allowed to tell us much. She usually gives us one identifying feature of every person she tells us about. So we can keep up."

"I'm assuming Soap is the fact that he's Scottish."

"Scottish with Mohawk. He gets two."

"What's Gaz?"

"Baby of the team."

"Fitting. Me?"

You stayed silent.

"What is it?"

You shook your head. "Can't say. Classified."

"Sergeant." His voice was harsh, demanding.

But you weren’t going to give in. "Lieutenant."

"I won't be insulted." His voice dropped to its familiar bored tone, as if trying to force the idea that it wouldn’t bother him.

That’s not what concerned you however. "Don't think you would be."

"Then why can't you tell me?”

"Just can't." Stellar reasoning, well done.

"I could ask them." He tilted his head in the direction of your friends, who were all watching you completely enraptured.

You didn’t back down, stare hardening at him. "Go ahead."

"Fine." He turned to the table. "What's my identifying feature?"

There was a moment of silence before someone gave in and admitted it. Traitors. "You don't have one."

There was a split second of delay before he replied. "She doesn't talk about me then?"

"Quite the opposite actually." One of your friends giggled.

Another stepped in. "Talks about you sooo much that you don't need an identifying feature. Just know who her lieutenant is."

"Besides, apparently you usually wear a mask. You have no features."

A raised finger of a counterpoint. "Arguably, the mask is the feature."

Ghost turned to you, almost smug. "You talk about me, sergeant?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Simon. You're good at what you do. I can appreciate that." You sniffed, rolling your shoulders back to force yourself to relax.

"Out loud? With your friends?"

You shot him an irritated look. "Get over yourself."

"Didn't say anything."

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "I know what you're thinking."

"I'm sure you do." He exhaled deeply, glancing away from you towards his drink.

Your own gaze moved back towards everyone else around the table. "Moving on! What else is happening with you guys?"

"Saw your parents a couple days ago. They said they didn't know you were home."

Well, that wasn’t the jollier topic you hoped to move on to.

A fake smile automatically set itself on your face at the mention of your family. "Fuck. What did you say?"

"Lied for you and said you only just got back. Might want to call them."

"I will do that. At some point.” Lie, lie, lie.

"Mhm, your sister had another baby as well. That's what? The fourth niece or nephew you haven't met?" There was a note of condescension in your friend’s voice.

You shrugged, knowing you had a decent enough reason. If your job counted as decent. "I've been busy. And it's only the second."

"We're not judging. Your parents might be though."

"Well, that's lovely to know." You slouched down in your seat. The relationship with your parents was… touchy, to say the least. Desperately seeking their approval for years had left the bond with them strained. And you being away from home so often definitely hadn’t helped the rockiness of it all.

"Also they seem convinced that you've met a military man and are going to come home engaged or married..."

Your face scrunched in disgust. "Oh, ew. What the fuck?"

Simon elbowed you harshly in the ribs. "We're not that bad."

"Share a bunk with Soap and come back to me on that." You snapped back. Your fellow sergeant was a snorer who regularly farted in his sleep. He was like your brother but man did you hate having to sleep in close proximity to him.

"Fair point.” He grumbled back to you. “But why are they under that impression?"

"They know I don't date civilians."

"Or anyone." One of your friends mumbled in her drink.

"Thank you.” You sent her a sarcastic smile. “So they think I'm after a man in uniform."

"Aren't you?" The same friend asked.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw. "In... theory."

"Not in practice though." She carried on, loving the way you were squirming.

"We know not in practice, okay? Doesn't need to be said aloud.” You spared a glance at the man beside you before adding a harsh whisper. “Especially in front of my lieutenant."

"I'm sure Simon is loving this."

"It comes with the job. Family troubles and no love life." He offered some of your words back to you from earlier, shrugging. You were glad of the support from him, even if it was only your own thoughts.

"You got any friends for her Simon? Anyone on the team you think she'd be good with?"

He shook his head. "Nah, not good enough for her."

Wait, what? Not good enough? For you? Since when did he have such a high opinion of you?

A friend of yours cooed. "That's sweet. If it helps, she's great in the sack."

You choked on the mouthful of drink you were taking, slamming your glass back down. "And how exactly would you know that?!"

"I shared a house with you in uni, babes. I remember all those guys coming out of your room with dazed smiles looking as if they'd just had the time of their life." She grinned at you slyly.

Eyes wide. Jaw dropped. Heart racing. "Oh, my god. Please shut up."

"You asked."

"I didn't need such a detailed answer!” You were ignored.

"Although you may be quite rusty at the moment. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

You covered your face with your hands. "For the love of everything that is good in this world, please be quiet."

"I'm just saying. We're all friends here, aren't we?" She laughed, mainly gesturing towards your higher up.

"He's my lieutenant!"

"Wait, Simon, are you single?"

You cut in before it could go any further. "Nope! Okay! So... sister? Baby. Parents? Delusional. What else?"

Everyone around the table chuckled at your reaction but moved on anyway, much to your relief.

"They're hoping you’re home for Christmas this year."

Your hand tightened around your drink. "I hope I'm not."

"Thought you'd say that."

Paying little attention to what your friend actually said, you mumbled to yourself. "That's fucking ridiculous of them. What the actual fuck?"

"We said the same." Mumbled loud enough for them to overhear apparently.

Simon looked confused. "What's the issue there?"

You failed to answer so someone else did for you. "They uninvited her to Christmas three years ago. Hasn't been back since."

"Why would they do that?"

"Didn't approve of her lifestyle."

He turned to you. "Your... lifestyle?"

"Murderer daughter." You bit back, bitterly.

His body tightened with tension. "You're not a murderer."

"Tell them that." You snorted. "Why do they want me home now?"

"Beats us.” Your friends said in weird unison.

"Wish they'd make their mind up over whether they want to disown me or not. It's exhausting trying to keep up."

The table laughed at that. Simon did not. But did he laugh at anything?

“I’m gonna get another drink. Want one?” He looked down at you, pointing vaguely at your almost empty glass.

“Uhh… sure. Thanks.” You smiled at him, which he obviously didn’t return. After briefly asking everyone else if they wanted anything, which they declined, he stalked off in the direction of the bar.

Once he was a few paces away, one of your friends practically launched herself halfway across the table and lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. "He's gorgeous, babes."

You decided to play coy. "You think?"

"You don't?" Her brow was raised in disbelieving accusation.

The coy act was dropped pretty quickly. "Oh, I know he is. Just didn't think you would."

"Well, I do. And he’s definitely your type, absolutely perfect for you. Plus he so likes you."

You scoffed. "No, he doesn't."

"He fancies the pants off of you!" She insisted.

You didn’t buy it. "I can guarantee that he does not."

"He can't take his eyes off you!"

"He has a staring problem." You shrugged, it was true.

"Yeah, the problem is that he can't stop staring at you."

You thought about it. Yeah, he stared at you a lot. But he stared at everything. Didn't mean he stared at you with... feelings or whatever your friends were implying. Just that he had a staring problem.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley does not like me." It was a finalised statement, one that you believed wholeheartedly.

"Open your eyes, babes. He likes you."

"Do you like him?"

Avoid answering. "Not allowed to like him. He's my lieutenant."

"That doesn't answer our question."

Shit.

"Maybe a little." You pinched your fingers together, there was no point lying to them, and shook your head. "Doesn't matter anyway."

"Why?"

"Because, say he did like me, he'd never admit it. And I'm not going to push him into anything. I'm just glad he's talking to me and accepting my attempt at us being friends." That was true. You were loving how he wasn’t completely rejecting your friendship. He maybe wasn’t embracing it but he wasn’t pushing you away either.

"That's so sad, babes."

"Cheers.” You deadpanned. “It can't happen anyway."

"Why not?"

"Relationships aren't allowed. Makes us a liability. My captain would reassign one of us as soon as he caught wind of it. And it would be me." The thought of Price reassigning you was horrid. You loved your team more than anything.

"Simon said he wouldn't let your captain reassign you."

That was true, he did. "He was joking... I think."

"I don't think he was. That man stares at you like he's ready to eat you. It's like listening to Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen in real life!"

Groan. "You watched Dirty Dancing again, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is that Simon looks at you with hungry eyes. And don't judge my love for Dirty Dancing." Two of your friends nodded in agreement with her.

"I'm not. I'm judging your favourite song choice when Love Is Strange by Mickey and Sylvia is clearly the superior song on the soundtrack." You said as you downed the last bit of your drink, thankful Simon was bringing you another one. Your mouth was dry and the initial buzz was wearing off. You’d need more alcohol if this interrogation was going to continue despite it probably not being the best idea.

"Blasphemy!” She declared before quietening herself. “Oop, we gotta be quiet now because he's coming back over. Simon!"

He froze in his tracks, a glass clasped in each large hand. "Yes?"

"Can you settle a debate for us?"

You froze too, wide-eyed. They weren't going to ask about him staring at you, were they?

"Sure...?"

You smiled at his unsure tone. Big, scary man who got shot at for a living was terrified of answering a little question.

"You've seen Dirty Dancing, yeah?"

You relaxed.

"I have."

Surprising.

"Which is a better song? Hungry Eyes or Love Is Strange?"

"Oh, I... uh-"

"Leave the poor man alone." You laughed despite being a little curious about his music taste.

"I always liked She's Like the Wind."

That shocked you to your core. "Patrick Swayze fan?"

"Used to have a mullet just like his." He placed your drink in front of you. "Here you go. You look surprised."

"I always am when you don't disappear. And when you admit to being a Patrick Swayze fan." You snorted, taking the drink from him.

"Learn to have a little faith, Sarge." He sighed as he sat down next to you again, an inch closer than before you were sure.

A burning feeling settled in your chest at the nickname. Sure, it was only a shortened version of your rank, and a common one at that, but it was something. Not sergeant. Not woman. Sarge. You decided to let it slide to see if he’d ever do it again of his own accord.

"Your name's Ghost for a reason." You sing-songed, the image of his mask flashing through your mind.

"I'll give you that. But remember, Simon here."

"Still weird."

"Still Simon."

You chewed the inside of your bottom lip before asking your next question. "Patrick Swayze?"

"He was blond."

"Like you, you mean?"

Hesitation. "Yeah."

You hummed and thought about him with a mullet. What an odd thing to admit to you. But you’d never complain. If Simon was willing to offer you little tidbits of silly information about himself, then you were going to absorb every single one and treasure them forever.

A/N: Simon with a mullet as a teen because he wanted to be Patrick Swayze when he grew up is canon to me now.

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strawberrysnoopy · 2 months

Text

ACT ONE: The Photoshoot, Part Three of Four

prologue, part one, part two. warnings: tobacco, smoking, alcohol use, briefest mention of using alcohol as a coping mechanism, mentions of infidelity (as always), ada slander at times (sorry), texting for a while, leon's a bit of a perv,

author's note: btw I left the husband without a name so there's no overlap on you and your husband having the same name and you live in new york due to the modeling thing. I also try my hardest to keep the reader ambiguous because I realize that skinny, quirky, white girls aren't the only ones that read this series: if there's anything you'd like to recommend or change in the writing to be more reader-friendly, drop in my inbox and let me know! :) thank you guys so much for all the reblogs and 100 FOLLOWERS AHHH!! thank you thank you thank you!

The warmth of your fingers working against his cool and paled skin had him melting like a runny ice cream cone in your hands. His hand was on your hip, rubbing loving circles like he was trying to commit the warm feel of your flesh into his memory. This was the type of life he envisioned when he was younger: married to someone he loved deeply with every crevice of his being. He thought Ada was the person for him, but that was such a costly and emotionally unbalanced guess. "Thank you, honey." You nod in response, applying the rest of the stitching to his busted lip. His hands dare to move a little higher on your hips, squeezing your waist and getting some sick pleasure out of the way your breath stopped in embarrassment. The scene was perfect, just a good ol’ friend taking care of her busted up pal. Leon hated that he couldn’t find you earlier, sooner, before he could even lay eyes on Ada Wong. She had her charms, sure, but there was something about the soft lull of your presence, how gentle you were, how caring you could be with others that had his heart fluttering in his chest. He still can't believe out of all the places he could've met you, it was at a store while you were buying a bottle of wine for yourself and your husband. "Met" would have to be an overrated word in his dictionary. The truth was that Leon had first laid eyes upon you in a magazine. They had released their February shoot that show-cased entrepreneurial photographers on the rise, climbing their way to the top without a care in the world who they scratched on their way there. You happened to be the diamond in the rough, making everyone else's cliche photographs of "lust" or "revenge" or "innocence" themes seem drab. Your theme? Limerence. Beautiful, simmering, and chilling limerence. Your hair was pieced together lazily but curled neatly, wearing simple yet cryptic tops and little boy shorts that lovingly cradled your ass. The rookie photographer that snapped your photos had done a stellar job at making it seem like you were one of those once in a lifetime girls you met in college. He still had the magazine of course, stashed away in the depths of his closet: kept in pristine condition like a filthy little secret he loved to indulge in. "So..." He muses. He feels the little pause in your work, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "How long have you known? About your husband's infidelity?" You've always known. The first? A college girl in the first year of your "official" relationship Bubbly and vibrant and a fucking joy to be around. The kind of girl you see on ABC's 20/20 or some other type of true crime prime-time film. Your husband claimed it was a drunk hook-up. And the first time, you believed him. The second? A school teacher that looked, acted, and talked exactly like you. Maybe she was your long lost twin or some weird rip in the fabric of time and she happened to pop out. He claimed he was mad at you for the way you did laundry. You forgave him a second time, but you'd surely have a knife to his throat the third time.

"A while. It's just like some weird fact I live with, I guess. Like you have some chronic disease and it's something you deal with from time to time." He nodded, bringing your hand up to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to your palm. He knows you don't deserve that. Nobody deserves that. Yet, he always wondered why you stayed. Your husband was an asshole, although that shouldn't be a term that leaves his lips due to the fact he's supposedly your husband's best bud, but for the sake of doing the holy honor of defending you: he was a cheating dick that didn't deserve to be maritally bound to a woman such as yourself. "Wouldn't you get a divorce? I don't mean to be like...rude or anything but I would've thought that you're the type of woman to leave his ass once he cheats." And you were. Headstrong, confident, and self-assured—he's never seen an insecure model before, or maybe that's some weird stereotype he's made in his head unconsciously. "It's a tough situation." And that's all you have to say about your marriage. He nodded, understanding your reluctance to speak on the subject. He can't say he's any different from you either considering his marriage to Ada, the very reason he can't be with you. Especially so intimately. It’s hard. The safety of it all. Having someone next to you at all times despite the shitty relationship. He knew.

Now the bathroom is silent. You’re still doctoring up his wounds while he sits up on the marble counter-top. He really wants to say something until you step in for him.

“I can’t believe you fucked my husband up like that.” You say, pulling your hands away from his face to find some more antibiotic cream. He hates that he feels his head moving forward to get your hands back on him. Pathetic. He feels pathetic, especially considering he beat the dog shit out of your husband when you graciously invited him into your home.

“I’m sorry—“ He begins, you stop him once more.

“No. Don’t apologize. I was thanking you.” He nods again, finding the motion of moving his head back and forth too repetitive. “So, thank you.”

He boldly takes your hand in his own, squeezing it and kissing the palm—feeling like he’s turning into a crazy man when your fingertips brush against his lower eyelids and cheeks.

“You’re welcome.” He releases your hand from his own, feeling guilty for not saying more to you. He feels as if you deserve more than silence, and to be honest, with everything you've gone through this week, you definitely do. "I know I said it already but I'm sorry for saying that I wanted to—" He pauses, not wanting to be so crude with his wording but throwing caution to the wind as he had already fucked everything up so far. "Said that I wanted to fuck you, that's not fair to you nor your husband."

"It's okay if you do." His heart pulses in his chest at those words. He had expected you to ignore it, maybe slap him if you were really pissed. But you agreed? What the fuck, it's like he's living in a fucking alternate universe. "It's not a crime to find someone else attractive. The only thing wrong is if you act on it." That was true, but it never took from how much he dreamed about you. The times he's jerked himself off while thinking of your gorgeous body on his mind had grown to a disgusting amount. Hell, it's gotten to a point where he doesn't even fight it anymore and Ada being in the house used to stop him, but not anymore. He'll just go up to the bathroom and rub one out with your magazine in hand. "Then I guess I'm attracted to you." Your cheeks flush red at the admission, flaring a brighter color when his hand grips your hip once more. And tighter, too. Jesus Christ, the way this whole situation had been playing out like a steamy porno. First, your husband was gone in the hospital. Second, Leon was brought into your home. Alone. Third, he admitted he wants to fuck you. No, he has to resist. You were right. It's not wrong to be attracted to someone other than your spouse but you had him wanting to act. Wanting to drag you down to the marital bed you share with your husband and fuck you senseless. "So, do you want to stay the night tonight? Considering your car is broken down and everything." You ask, your tone beautiful and raspy like it always is.

Oh, God. He's gonna fuck you.

tags:@heylesamis, @sweetserial, @iloveyousomuch1989, @galactict3a, @m1sery-busin3ss, @ssulfurr, @julia13123, @nic-stars, @stillhavingdaddyissues, @greywardensaywhat, @ressespearlz, @xqlenkdy, @g0rep1ty, @nomorekerkanymor,

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atl4ntxc · 1 year

Text

𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.

protecting your boyfriend from being talked bad by random students. how does he react when he finds out?

RIDDLE ROSEHEART

“housewarden riddle is such a stuck-up. all he does is scream at us for not obeying the ridiculous amount of rules that the queen of hearts made!” you stopped walking and continued to hear into their conversation.

“if i was the queen, i'd definitely have him as my lap-dog! it would be so satisfying to look at his face that would be pleading for my forgiveness.” another student added, laughing at the comment that his friend made. you clenched your fists and side-eyed them from a far, the atmosphere suddenly growing tense.

you could feel your blood boiling as they continued to slander riddle's name. then, you waited until they walked in front of your figure. putting your hand on the student that called riddle a lap-dog, he turned around to be met by a fist.

“w-what the hell?!”

“what's your problem, dude?!”

“haven't punched someone for so long. feels good, doesn't it?” you cracked your knuckles and glared at them. “i may be magicless, but that doesn't mean i'm weak.” slowly walking towards the student that was on the floor, he backed away before being pulled by the hair by you. “talk about him like that again and i'll make sure that you won't only leave with a bruised cheek.”

at the end of the day, you were met with an outrageous riddle that walked his way towards you. “rose, why would you commit such heinous acts? you could've been hurt and i wouldn't of known until later on!” he scolded, inspected your hands and face for any cuts or forming bruises.

you stared at him and chuckled, “i couldn't stay quiet when i hear my lover's name get played like some dog's chew toy, could i?” riddle still had his eyebrows furrowed when he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. he looked away and kept quiet before speaking up.

“i appreciate it, my rose. next time, just— just don't act as violently as you did.”

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

to him, it wasn't unusual to hear people talk behind his back.

he was the second born after all, and is always compared to farena. it’s not like he cared, he was used to it anyway. to him, no matter how hard he tries, nobody would change the views that they have on him anyway. he was shocked to hear that his herbivore got into a fight under his name, and rushed towards the infirmary to see you.

“herbivore, what were you thinking?” he gently cupped your face, worriedly looking into your eyes. “they were talking bad about you, leona. i'm not the type to stay quiet whenever i hear people i care about get insulted.” you smiled and showed him your fist that was wrapped up in bandages, making his attention go to your fists instead of your face.

“plus, i only bruised my knuckles and gained a few cuts here and there. they're all in the same area though, so i'll be fine. you should worry about the others.” he could see that you were amused with yourself, making leona sigh and softly growled, “what did you do, anyway?” you closed your eyes and grinned, “i only punched them both in their jaw. nothing too serious! only one of them got a dislocated jaw.” leona can't help but let out an amused laugh, proud of you.

“i'm glad that you're not hurt, herbivore. i'm proud of you for winning the fight, but don't injure yourself for me. now move over, i want to sleep.”

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

usually, he'd have the leech twins take care of people who talked bad about him. but today was different, because this time it involved you.

“hey boss! you have to guess what shrimpy did today!” floyd opened azul's door with a loud bang, his sharp teeth showing in his smile. azul's head snapped up once he heard your name, well... ‘shrimpy’, curious to what floyd had to say. “what happened to the prefect?”

jade, who was behind floyd, chuckled and brought a gloved hand under his chin, a sadistic smile present on his face. “they punched a student for talking bad about you.” floyd whined and looked at jade with an offended look, as if jade insulted him. azul looked at the twins in horror and quickly stood up, his chair falling to the floor. “what?!”

floyd grumbled and stared boredly at azul. “shrimpy beat up a guy for you, boss. you should thank shrimpy for their kind acts, you know! they let me squeeze that guy too~” azul could only turn his head towards a now grinning floyd, annoyed. “where are they now?” jade laughed and pointed towards a vacant table at monstro lounge, who had only one customer attending at said table.

azul rushed and quickly went to the table to see you with your phone out. “dear, are you hurt?” he grabbed your hand and checked for any present or forming injuries, making you gently smile at him. “not at all.”

“please leave all the violent stuff to the leech twins. i wouldn't want you getting hurt because of me.”

KALIM AL-ASIM

why would anyone talk bad about kalim? it was clear to you that the reason that this student talked bad about kalim was because of one reason, envy.

kalim is a sweetheart. but each person, no matter how loved they are, there will always be one person that dislikes them— no matter how kind they are. they would highlight the bad doings of the person they are envious of, instead of their rights.

“kalim is too naive for his own good. he’d be quite easy to manipulate, don’t you think?” you kept quiet as you walked beside the student that decided to change the topic from something irrelevant to kalim; who was your boyfriend. “i mean, if i told him to go against a wild and rabid dog, he’d probably say that every dog is nice and try to approach it!” he laughed.

is he serious? talking about your boyfriend when every single student of nrc knows of how protective you could be of kalim. “don’t talk about kalim like that.” you quietly spoke, glaring at him from the corner of your eye. “you’d rather side your boyfriend than side by your friend?” he asked, grabbing onto your wrist.

“we were never friends to begin with. who even are you?” you scoffed, harshly pulling your wrist away from him. “keep your hands to yourself— i don’t need your filth.” your voice sounded sharp, making the student sweatdrop. turning your figure around, your eyes spotted kalim in the distance— who was making his way to you. “next time, learn how to keep your mouth shut.”

you told what happened to kalim, and he could only sweatdrop and smile nervously at you.

“are you okay though? i wouldn’t want you to get insulted as well :(”

VIL SCHOENHEIT

vil knew that some didn’t like him. but does he care? no. he’s a model, a famous and widely known model across twisted wonderland. everyone knows that when you get into modelling, you would have haters and fans.

“vil thinks he’s all that when really, he isn’t. could you imagine being so obsessed with beauty that you force other people to follow your routine?” a student said, catching your eye. you could agree, vil does tend to be strict about beauty but that student doesn’t need to describe him like that. “strip away his beauty and let’s see how he reacts.” the student laughed along with their friend, slapping his friend’s shoulder in the process.

“i bet he’s worth nothing if he didn’t have beauty. people wouldn’t even look at him!”

vil rushed to the scene, shocked to see his potato in a quarell. out of all people in nrc, he couldn’t imagine his sweet potato getting into a fight with... his own dorm members? “potato! what is the meaning of this?” you looked at vil to see his worried face (and obviously graying hair that is bcs of you), and glared at the student from the corner of your eye that was holding his stinging cheek. “they slapped me! i didn’t do anything!”

“you couldn’t control your mouth, could you? and the same was for me, i couldn’t control my actions.” vil furrowed his eyebrows and looked between you and the student, slowly regaining information of what was happening. “so it all started because of you?” vil scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, squinting his eyes at his dorm member. “i am greatly disappointed. i will require a full fledged explanation from you at the dorm. don’t think that you will get away without punishment.”

the student let out a huff of breath and closed his eyes in surrender, “yes, housewarden...” vil now turns to you, “and you, potato, i want an explanation too.” you looked at him and nodded, knowing he wouldn’t do anything anyway.

“so that’s what happened... potato, i appreciate the concern— but putting yourself in potential danger is irresponsible. i would say that ignoring them is better— but i will never understand your ways.”

IDIA SHROUD

idia wasn’t a social person at all. only God knows how he pulled you, because surely nobody does. it was clear to everyone that no matter how cold you could be, he was your one weak spot.

“that ignihyde housewarden? idia, yeah— he’s such a freak.. how did he manage to date the ramshackle prefect anyway? is the prefect blind or just stupid?” now, insulting you was one thing, but insulting your boyfriend?.. that’s too far, even for you. idia wasn’t a freak, he was just less sociable than others. what he said made your blood boil, and it raised your temper to the core.

you kicked the back of the student’s knee and made him kneel, a shadow resting on your face. your hand moved over to grab him harshly by the hair, forcing him to look at you in the eye. “not only did you insult me, you insulted idia as well. you think you’re higher than me just because you have magic?” the way that venom dripped down your voice made the student in front of you quiver in nervousness, his eyes glinting in fear. “prefect! what do you think you're doing?! to the headmaster's office!”

you turned your head to look at the source of the voice to find Crewel with his hands on his hips. scoffing, you let go of the student and found strands of hair on your palm. it disgusted you, making you immediately remove the strands. “i'm sure you would love to know the full story, sir.” your eyes moved to look at the student that gulped, making crewel raise his eyebrows. “both of you, headmaster's office. now.” your lips curled into a thin smile.

“it was just detention for a month, idia.” staring at idia, who had his eyes wide open. he knew of your violent behaviour from ortho, and rechecked the security cameras to make sure it was you. “s-still! what if you got hurt because of me?” idia quietly voiced out, concern visible on his face. he looked quite adorable, making you laugh out a little. “don't be silly. it'll be worth it in the end, won't it?”

“im used to being called a freak... you don't need to endanger yourself for me,”

MALLEUS DRACONIA

malleus was quite sensitive to the topic of relationships, mostly platonically. so, this person knew what to rub into the wound of malleus, making you scowl.

“nobody actually likes malleus, that's why he is never invited to any gatherings!” your eyes squinted to glare at the student in front of you, who was laughing. the student stopped laughing to huff out a “you don't actually like— 'love' him do you?” , making a vein of yours pop. this guy was truly getting on your nerves. is he asking for a deathwish?

“i'd prefer it if you avoid talking about my personal feelings for others—” the student jabbed you with his index finger at your chest and scoffed in your face, making you grumble in silent anger. “wait, don't tell me you've actually fallen for that dragon?” he retreated his finger and huffed out a laugh. “hah, that's quite pathetic!”

you grabbed his wrist. “what the— let go!” the hold you had on the student's wrist made him whimper in pain, begging you to let go. “speak of malleus like that again and i'll break your wrist.” you tightened the grip making the student's eyes water, before releasing his wrist and turning around to face the opposite side.

“child of man, i heard that a student was injured because of you. did he provoke you?” malleus questions, curiousity written on his face. your eyes moved from his hands to his face, letting a gentle smile decorate your features before answering his question with a soft tone. “tsunataro, he was being disrespectful. i couldn't of stood silent as your name get slandered, could i?” he smiles.

“oh, how lucky i am to meet you. you are too precious, child of man.. but don't risk your safety for me.”

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fushisagi · 10 months

Text

love and all its cons

୨୧ ━━ ❛ it’s difficult for one to familiarize themselves with the mystery that is your and isagi’s relationship, something that significantly blurs the line between friends and lovers. ❜

word count ⋆ 7.2k (7,278) genre ⋆ fluff, secret established relationship, 5+1 ━ pro-football player!isagi, pro-volleyball player & gn!reader

after months of you and isagi sending each other shy smiles, yearning glances, and dancing around your feelings, bachira decides it’s time for him and the rest of the team to intervene. mission: get isagi a significant other is a go!

warnings ⋆ alcohol consumption, all characters are 20+, everyone is a little bit of an idiot and oblivious, (brief) jealous isagi, i snuck in hinata from haikyuu!! in here bc i love him sorry, that’s it i think lmk if i missed anything!

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Bachira immediately knows something’s wrong when Itoshi Rin of all people agrees with him.

The whole team is taken aback by it, too, showing their surprise with wide eyes and thinly veiled confusion. Towards the back, Reo opens up the news app on his phone, muttering about how Rin’s agreement must be some sort of bad omen, an indication that the world is ending.

“I’m sorry,” Chigiri starts, eyes narrowed, “did you just agree with Bachira? Like, willingly?”

Rin tsks, throwing all of them a look of annoyance. “Yes.”

“Are you sick or something?”

Reo finally makes his concern known, clutching his chest dramatically as he declares, “Oh, God. I really should’ve been a survivalist. Does anyone want to come to the store with me to buy non-perishables?”

Nagi sighs tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Reo, it’s too early for you to be overdramatic.”

“It is 5pm. Practice just ended.”

Nagi responds with a yawn.

Bachira snaps out of his daze with a shake of his head. He grabs onto Rin’s arm despite the boy growling at him to let go, and forces the team into a huddle with a conspiring smile on his face. They watch him warily; a grin like that could only mean trouble, and the last time Bachira managed to drag them into his shenanigans, they ended up being slandered on national television for breaking and entering.

(He had somehow convinced the entire team it would be funny to break into Ego’s house and scare him awake).

(It was not funny. Practices for the next three months were grueling).

“We should set them up together!” Bachira exclaims delightfully.

For a moment, nobody speaks. Then, everyone looks over to Kunigami who, just last week, had come to practice with a venomous bite in his words after going on a date with someone Bachira set him up with.

Almost immediately, everyone’s voices overlap as ideas are shut down and new ones are suggested, unaware of you and Isagi watching them with a mixture of amusement and confusion. While his teammates aren’t looking, Isagi presses a kiss to your cheek and grabs you by the wrist to the farthest side of the field, where the both of you can discuss your plans for dinner without worrying about someone hearing you.

“We should just lock them up in the supply closet,” Reo says.

Kunigami shakes his head. “That would be a disaster.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I just do.”

Zantetsu muses, “Should we send both of them flowers and sign the card so they’ll think they were the ones who sent it?”

Rin scrunches his nose. “I am not spending my money on those two idiots.”

Nagi huffs. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just told them they like each other?”

Bachira waves him off. “No. There’s no fun in that.” Then, a lightbulb turns on, and he’s clapping his hands with the excitement of a child waking up on Christmas day. “Ah! We make the both of them jealous.”

“No,” Kunigami shuts the suggestion down with a frown on his face. “that’ll create misunderstandings—”

“Awww,” Bachira whines with a pout, “you’re no fun!”

Across the field, you watch the exchange with furrowed eyebrows as Isagi orders takeout on his phone. He follows your gaze, snickering when Reo reaches over to smack Zantetsu’s head but misses and hits Rin in the face instead. Even from here, you hear everyone shouting at each other as Rin attempts to smack Reo but ends up landing a hit on Chigiri when Reo quickly ducks out of the way.

“What the hell are they doing?” you mutter as Bachira tackles Nagi with a giggle.

Isagi shrugs unhelpfully. “Don’t know.”

Someone knocks Zantetsu’s glasses of his face, which results in him gasping loudly. The arguments don’t cease despite the fact that they’re now all on the ground, attacking each other with punches and kicks only meant to bruise.

“You’re friends with a bunch of idiots, babe.”

Isagi, ever the dramatic boyfriend, looks at you as if you’ve said something so incredibly hurtful. “Excuse me, you’re friends with them, too.”

“Yeah,” you say, wincing when Bachira jumps onto Kunigami’s back and starts ruffling his hair, “Yeah, unfortunately, I am.”

attempt one: bachira meguru & kunigami rensuke.

When Bachira tells Kunigami he’s planning on tricking the two of you into going on a date and watching from the sidelines, Kunigami feels he owes it to both you and Isagi to tag along, seeing as the last time he let Bachira meddle with someone’s love life (i.e. his), it ended with a chipped tooth and a trip to the dentist’s office.

(Bachira insists it’s not his fault Kunigami punched his date. Kunigami insists it is because there was absolutely no reason for Bachira to set the date up at a Five Nights at Freddy’s themed party).

This is how Kunigami finds himself lurking behind a blue van as you and Isagi walk across the parking lot, talking animatedly as you make your way towards the entrance of the arcade. Every now and then, Isagi checks his phone with annoyance and you glance at your watch with a frown.

Kunigami phone buzzes in his pocket. He already knows what the notification is before he sees it.

groupchat: blue lock!!! 🥳⚽️❤️‍🔥

isagi 🤓 > where r u guys?

Beside him, Bachira’s fingers dash across his keyboard.

bachira 🐝 > sorry! D: I won’t be able to make it 😣😓 > looks like it’s just you and y/n~~~ 😉😉😉

isagi 🤓 > ??? > what about the rest of the team

bachira 🐝 > they’re all sick unfortunately !! ):

At this point, you and Isagi have already made it to the doors. Kunigami is too far away to read Isagi’s expression, but he looks at you for a long moment, says something that makes you laugh, before he turns back to his phone.

isagi 🤓 > really?? ALL of you are sick???

bachira 🐝 > yep!

Bachira kicks Kunigami’s shin and gestures towards his phone. The taller boy sighs and begrudgingly sends a message to the groupchat.

kunigami 😵‍💫 > yeah > cough cough

Bachira hums approvingly before walking around the car and hastily making his way to the entrance. Kunigami is quick to follow, lowering his head and bending his knees in hopes to not attract any attention with his height.

Once they step inside, Kunigami is forced to lift his chin up as he searches the crowd for any sign of his friends.

“There they are!” Bachira declares excitedly, pointing to a large claw machine before dragging Kunigami to hide behind the pinball machine.

Isagi has one hand on the joystick and the other hovering over a red button, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He leans closer to the glass as the claw hovers over a blue plushie, and just as he pushes the button, you shove his other arm, causing the claw to move forward and come down at the same time. The claw, predictably, grabs onto nothing, causing Isagi to turn to you with a pout on his lips.

“Hey!” he whines, softening when your head meets his chest as your shoulders shake with laughter.

“I’m sorry,” you say in between giggles. When you look up at him, he tries his best to look unimpressed, but he can’t bite back the smile that blooms across his face. “I’m sorry, Yoichi, I really am, but you have to admit it was pretty funny.”

“And to think I was going to win that for you!”

You glance at him, unconvinced, and then to the Snorlax plushie staring back at the both of you. “Yeah, right. You were gonna keep that for yourself.”

It’s silent for two heartbeats before Isagi sighs. “Yeah, I was gonna keep it for myself.”

“You’re a terrible boyf—”

“Um, excuse me?”

Kunigami and Bachira jump in surprise, turning to face an exhausted employee. She has her arms crossed over her chest as she suspiciously looks between the pair of football players hiding behind an arcade game. Kunigami’s eyes widen in realization. He doesn’t exactly know what conclusion this woman has come to, but he knows that two men — with baseball caps on their heads, sunglasses on the bridge of their noses, and masks on their faces — lurking in the shadows of an arcade is bound raise a few eyebrows.

“Oh, hello!” Bachira greets with too much chirpiness for Kunigami’s liking, but he can tell his friend is nervous when Bachira glances at you and Isagi, who still — thankfully — haven’t looked over to the commotion by the pinball machines. “Sorry, we were just… waiting for our turn.”

The woman blinks. “You’ve been standing here doing nothing for five minutes. Nobody’s touched the pinball machine because they thought you guys were going to play.”

Kunigami scratches the back of his neck. “Well…”

He doesn’t continue.

The woman looks at them incredulously. “Well?”

Kunigami looks at Bachira, panicked, silently begging for help. Bachira blinks back up at him and shrugs.

Ever since he met Bachira Meguru, Kunigami swears years have been continuously removed from his lifespan.

“We can’t allow you guys to stay if you’re not going to play any games. It’s company policy.”

“Oh! Then we’ll just play! Um…” Kunigami trails off as he begins patting his pockets, eyebrows knitting together when he feels wrappers, his ID, house keys — everything but his wallet. He looks at Bachira. “I don’t have any money.”

“Well, don’t look at me! I don’t have any, either!”

Across from them, the woman sighs.

Kunigami’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “What do you mean? You paid our taxi driver!”

Bachira nods. “Yes, but that was the last of my change.”

Kunigami’s eye twitches.

Over at the claw machine, you and Isagi have diverted your attention towards your friends. Your suspicion is written all over your face and Isagi, with a grin bright enough to rival the sun, has pulled out his phone to record.

“Is that…?”

Isagi snickers. “Yup.”

“I thought you said they were sick.”

“That’s what they told me,” Isagi explains, holding in his laughter as the employee politely asks Kunigami and Bachira to leave the vicinity. “But I think they’re just spying on us.”

Curiously, you ask, “Why would they do that?”

Isagi doesn’t respond. Instead, he ends the video and pulls up Blue Lock’s groupchat, which includes him and all his teammates. He scrolls up to a text from two nights ago.

bachira 🐝 > okay operation set isagi and y/n up is a GO!!!! :D 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 > does everyone remember their positions?!! 🫡

rin 😐 > Please shut the fuck up

attempt two: zantetsu tsurugi.

Zantetsu is stressed.

He’s been watching Isagi like a hawk ever since practice started, sticking to him like glue by never leaving his side. He follows Isagi when it’s time for drills, chats with him during break, and joins him to his trip to the water fountain. And yet, despite how much they’ve talked today, Isagi still has yet to mention the flowers.

Zantetsu’s learned the hard way that flowers are expensive, but he still sent two bouquets last night — one to your apartment and one to Isagi’s; he’d even gotten Bachira to sign the cards so it would look like you got the flowers for each other.

(When Reo said the forgery was awful, Zantetsu dismissed him with a roll of his eyes).

But Isagi hasn’t said a word about it. And, during the fifteen minutes you popped by, you didn’t say anything about it, either.

Zantetsu sits on the bench, close to pulling his hair out. On one side of him is Nagi, nonchalant as his thumbs dash across his phone screen; on the other side is Reo, who watches you and Isagi laugh with a look of disgust plastered across his face.

“I don’t get it,” Zantetsu groans, putting his head in his hands. “I checked with the florist six times.”

Reo snorts. “Are you sure you got their addresses right?”

“Yes! Look!” Zantetsu opens up his phone and scrolls through the digital receipt in his email. Reo looks over his shoulder and confirms the addresses with a grunt.

Nagi barely glances at his teammate’s screen before muttering, “Stupid Zantetsu.”

“What! but I did everything right!”

“Well, there’s no one else to blame,” Nagi drawls. “You’re the only one who bought the flowers.”

Zantetsu slips off the bench and lies down on the grass, muttering incoherent complaints while Nagi pays him no mind and Reo starts poking his side with the toe of his shoe.

(What Zantetsu doesn’t know, however, is that you did receive the flowers. Isagi had been at your apartment when you got the delivery and texted you that someone on the team had sent you daisies along with a card that badly resembled his signature).

(There is also the fact that Isagi spends more time at your apartment than he does at his. Five months after Zantetsu ordered the flowers, you and Isagi go to his home to pack up his things so he can officially move in with you, only to find a bouquet of dead roses on his doorstep).

attempt three: chigiri hyoma, mikage reo, & nagi seishiro.

Reo kind of likes the power that comes with playing God.

Ever since Kunigami and Bachira got kicked out of the arcade, Reo’s been plotting. He’s unlike his usual self — instead of bursting with energy, Reo comes to practice silent. He’s scrutinizing Isagi so much that the boy has started avoiding him; he’s been asking you random questions whenever you visit; under the guise of caring for his teammates, Reo has made a shared Google calendar and forced everyone to add their schedules to it (really, he’s just trying to see when Isagi is free so he can set this plan in motion).

And what Reo wants, Reo gets, and Chigiri shouldn’t have been surprised when Reo comes up to him with a 30-slide PowerPoint.

“Hear me out,” he’d said when Chigiri opened the door to his apartment. “I’m a fucking genius.”

Chigiri had no time to reply before Reo was letting himself in.

The party — a trap disguised in diamonds and alcohol, is what Reo refers to this as — is in full swing when Chigiri arrives, toeing off his shoes as he nods to familiar faces whose names he can’t quite remember and brushing off anyone who offers him a drink. He finds Nagi in the corner leaning against the wall, surprisingly off his phone, and staring at two people in the living room.

You and Isagi have taken the couch hostage. While there may be room for someone to sit, Chigiri can see why people don’t. Even from a few feet away, he feels as if he’s intruding when he watches Isagi stare up at you with his head in your lap and your fingers combing through his hair.

There is no way friends are this affectionate with each other.

Chigiri doesn’t have time to dwell before Bachira, who may as well be bouncing off the walls, swoops in to pull Isagi off your lap. He slowly rises, engulfed with sharp irritation that’s wiped away as soon as you place a hand on your shoulder and murmur a temporary farewell.

“They’re stupid,” Nagi mutters. Chigiri silently agrees.

It doesn’t take long for Reo to find them, hyper and euphoric, and Chigiri wonders if he’s either drunk off alcohol or adrenaline. He places a hand on both Chigiri and Nagi’s shoulders before declaring in true dramatic Mikage Reo fashion, “It’s game time.”

Nagi cringes. “But I’m too tired.”

“I gave you the easiest assignment!” Reo exclaims incredulously.

“Luring Isagi into your room sounds far from easy.”

“Would you rather be chasing after Y/N?”

Nagi frowns, glancing over at you. You’re strategically slipping through the crowd to avoid people you don’t want to speak to, politely giving them smiles before you disappear from sight. It’s almost as if the shadows are swallowing you whole and teleporting you to another area in the penthouse.

Nagi shakes his head and halfheartedly wishes Chigiri good luck before beginning his search for Isagi.

Chigiri sighs as Reo slaps him on the shoulder and pushes him out from his safe place against the wall, similar to that of a mother letting her child play in the playground. A rather chaotic, migraine-inducing playground.

With an annoyed huff, he begins walking the perimeters of the penthouse, scanning the crowd in hopes of finding you in your desperate attempts to vanish. He knows you find these rambunctious gatherings more bearable when you’re with Isagi; you may be friends with the entire team (one time he overheard Zantetsu saying you were one of his emergency contacts), but there is nothing that compares to your closeness with Isagi. People have tried and failed to puncture the bubble the two of you live in.

It’s difficult for one to familiarize themselves with the mystery that is your and Isagi’s relationship, something that significantly blurs the line between friends and lovers.

Chigiri may not be as observant as his other teammates, but he can spot love when he sees it. Especially if it is so ridiculously obvious that it might as well be as blinding as the sun.

He finds you in mere minutes — clearly not fast enough for Reo, who he knows is the culprit behind the continuous buzzing coming from his device. You’re in the kitchen, sitting atop a counter, nursing a glass of apple juice. When you see Chigiri in the doorway, you smile, though the tension in your body remains.

“Hi,” you greet. He makes his way towards you, swift but nonchalant. “Having fun?”

“A little. You?” At your grimace, he laughs. “You didn’t seem to be this miserable when I saw you with Isagi earlier.”

It’s bait, you know it’s bait. He expects you to brush it off with stammered words and wandering eyes but instead you shrug, hiding your smile behind the cup. If Chigiri is surprised at your silent admission, he doesn’t show it.

“Yeah, but he’s not here right now, so…”

Chigiri hums teasingly. “You two looked cozy on the couch.”

You snort, downing the rest of your juice before placing the cup in the sink beside you. “He was just telling me about how Zantetsu was trailing after him like a lost puppy yesterday at practice.”

Comparing Zantetsu’s behaviour to that of a puppy is pushing it, but Chigiri decides now isn’t the time to protest. He wonders if you’re aware about the flower mishap — or if you even received the flowers in the first place.

“Did you get flowers a few days ago?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. It said they were from Yoichi.” Chigiri’s eyes widen, urging you to continue. Maybe, just maybe, he won’t have to resort to locking you in a room to deal with your feelings. “But the penmanship was so atrociously bad I assumed the bouquet was from Bachira.”

All hope disappears. It shows in the way Chigiri’s shoulders droop and the way he rubs his temples, missing your small, amused smirk.

“Okay,” Chigiri clasps his hands together with the type of determination you only see on the football field. “You’re hopeless.”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“I know where Isagi is,” Chigiri states instead of offering an explanation.

Getting you to follow him is easy enough. With childlike excitement, you jump off the counter and trail behind him with a smile on your face. There seems to be more energy and pep in your steps, and your smile is so wide Chigiri is surprised you’re able to keep it on your face without your cheeks hurting.

And this doesn’t even compare to how Isagi acts at the sole mention of you. Chigiri wonders if setting the two of you up is the best for his sanity; he’s not quite sure he’ll be able to handle such a chipper, lovesick Isagi everyday during practice.

But then he glances at his notifications, snorting at Nagi’s anguished messages to hurry up, because hearing Isagi talk about you is much worse than watching three cheesy Hallmark romcoms back to back. Perhaps, Chigiri thinks, it would be cruel to not push the two of you together. He can worry about the suffering he’ll have to endure in the future.

Once he’s led you to the end of the hallway where Reo and Nagi loiter just outside the guest room, you falter in your steps. The next few seconds are a flurry of confusion and snappy remarks, and the next thing you know, you’re shoved into a room and the door behind you is locked with an obnoxious click.

Isagi shoots up from where he was previously lying on the bed. “Thank God you’re here. I wasn’t sure if they were just going to leave me in here by myself.”

You sigh, making your way towards the bed. Isagi shuffles to make space for you. His hands find their home around your waist before he uses them to pull you against him.

You grumble as he nestles his face into the crook of your neck. “You were right.”

You feel him smirk against your skin. “Right about what?” he asks with faux perplexity.

“You know what.”

“Hm, I really don’t.”

You huff, flicking the back of his hand, and he responds with a laugh. “They’re trying to set us up.”

“Yeah, that much was obvious, babe.”

“I thought they already knew,” you say, meeting his gaze when he lifts his head up to meet yours.

“I thought we agreed to keep this a secret.”

“No, I know,” you say, but then you gesture towards the door, and add, with bewildered mirth, “but it’s not like we’re being very secretive. I thought they would have figured it out by now.”

Isagi guffaws and despite just how loud it is, you lean into his touch, yearning to hear it again. “Didn’t you say they were idiots?”

“I didn’t think they were this oblivious.”

“And to think that’s what they’re saying about us,” Isagi smiles but it turns serious as he places his chin on your shoulder. “But do you want to tell them?”

You want to say yes. When you first agreed to this secret relationship — to avoid pressing questions and people invading your privacy — sneaking around quickly became tiresome. And it still is, though you admit it’s nicer to interact with your boyfriend in the confines of your apartment and the stadium whenever you visit, away from any prying eyes that could twist every interaction. You feel the most comfortable with him there, away from the public eye, and you know he feels the same way.

However, it might be nice for your close friends to know.

But then you remember how, just last night, you and Isagi were huddled around his phone, laughing at the ridiculous plans his teammates have made in order to get you two alone together. It seems that they’ve forgotten that your boyfriend’s in the chat too, and their naivety has become newfound entertainment.

You’re curious to find out what else they have up their sleeves. When you look at Isagi, you know he shares the same sentiment.

He grins. “That’s settled, then. What do you think they’re going to do next?”

“Bachira seems very adamant about the jealousy plan.”

Isagi snorts. “I kind of want to see where he goes with that.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

He pecks your nose. “Because you’re cute when you’re jealous. And it boosts my ego.” you scoff, but before you can even think about replying, Isagi says, “Hey, do you want to leave and make out in Reo’s room?”

“We’re locked in here,” you deadpan.

Isagi lets go of you and walks towards the door. He points at the doorknob with a wide grin on his face.

The room locks from both the inside and the out.

You let out a disappointed sigh.

Sometimes you worry that the next time you see Reo, he’s going to be swindled out of a million dollars.

attempt four: bachira meguru (again) ft. itoshi rin.

This really could be the best idea Bachira’s ever had — the thing is, though, nobody has the slightest ounce of faith in him. Which, if he’s being honest, is kind of offensive.

(So what if he and Kunigami got kicked out of the arcade a few days ago? Sometimes genius plans fail! It doesn’t mean Bachira’s lost his touch).

The team has found themselves at a gala, surrounded by athletes and sponsors alike in a large ballroom smelling of wealth and prestige. Caterers carrying trays of champagne flutes slip through the crowd with practiced ease, faces painted with polite smiles that do not waver despite the football team’s — read: Bachira and Zantetsu’s — overwhelming excitement.

Rin, who narrowly escaped a conversation with a bubbly volleyball player he barely remembers the name of, walks into a prison as worse as forced small-talk. With Bachira by his side, he scowls as the shorter boy starts unsubtly pointing towards you and Isagi, whispering amongst yourselves with reserved smiles and fond eyes.

“This is stupid,” Rin says monotonously when Bachira suggests that Rin should split you and Isagi apart.

“It’s not!” Bachira argues, growing annoyed at Rin’s apathy. “Tonight’s the best night to make one of ‘em jealous. Hey, what about I split them up and you make them jealous?”

Rin’s response is simple and curt, “No.”

Bachira sighs, though he can’t say he’s surprised.

The night goes on without many bumps in the road. Rin stays by Bachira once he learns that nobody’s willing to talk to him if he pretends he’s preoccupied in a conversation, no matter how one-sided it is. Some of his teammates join in for a bit before they drift away again; Reo stops by to encourage them to talk to sponsors (Rin scowls in response), Kunigami and Zantetsu tell Rin on separate occasions he looks like he stepped in shit, Chigiri halfheartedly wishes Bachira luck, and even Nagi came by for a few minutes to talk to them.

The only teammate Rin hasn’t spoken a word to is Isagi.

He really doesn’t care, but he thinks he’d rather have a conversation with him than have to painfully watch him pine over you. The sight of it bothers him so much he’s actually considering going along with Bachira’s plan, but before he can open his mouth and spout out words he’ll likely regret, somebody comes by and takes you away.

And you let him.

For a moment, Rin’s eyes widen.

“What the—” Bachira squeaks, jaw slack. “Who is that?”

Rin recognizes the man as one of the people he avoided having a conversation with. His hair is bright, matching the excitement in his grin and the radiance in his eyes, and Rin’s pretty sure he’s seen him on billboards and advertisements hanging on the large glass windows of retail stores.

There is familiarity in his touch, Rin realizes. But there is something between the two of you that doesn’t match the atmosphere between you and Isagi — there are joyful grins and clumsy movements, sure, but it all seems friendly.

He frowns, glances at Bachira, only to find him staring at Isagi, and Rin wonders if the champagne has messed with his imagination or if there is actual smoke is coming out of Isagi’s ears.

Well. At least Bachira didn’t even have to lift a finger.

Only a couple seconds pass before Isagi grumbles and stands from his seat, walking over to where Rin and Bachira watch you and the unknown man dance next to the other couples in the ballroom. When Isagi stands in front of them, he is the perfect picture of a man wronged, his usual boyish smile replaced with an annoyed frown.

“Hello, Yoichi!” Bachira greets, though his voice is strained, and his wandering eyes don’t fail to show his discomfort. “We haven’t seen you all night.”

Isagi grunts. “Sorry.”

Rin really shouldn’t find pleasure in this, but he thinks it’s a little funny. However, his face is blank when he states, “Y/N looks like they’re having fun.”

Rin expects Isagi to glare at him with the same intensity he has on the field, but Isagi only pouts. “Uh-huh.”

“Who’s the guy they’re dancing with?” asks Bachira.

“His name’s Hinata,” Isagi grumbles, taking a champagne flute from a passing caterer’s tray. He mumbles a thanks before continuing, “He’s a volleyball player, so they met through that when he first moved to Tokyo.”

“Ah,” Bachira nods. Then, rubbing salt into the wound, he adds, “So they’re, like, super close?”

“I guess?”

“Are they dating?”

Isagi’s expression sours. “Definitely not.”

“How unfortunate,” Rin muses. He doesn’t bother to veil the glint of mischief in his eye, but Isagi is too preoccupied swirling his glass in disgust to notice, “They’d look nice together.”

(Bachira is sure the world has been thrown off-balance. Did Itoshi Rin just play instigator? For the sake of his teammate’s love life? He feels like this moment needs to be documented).

Isagi hums but doesn’t offer anything else. His posture is a lot more rigid than usual and he burns holes into the back of your head with an infuriating amount of infatuated neediness. It is only when the song ends that he relaxes, smiling wide when you part ways with Hinata to make your way to him.

Like metal to a magnet, you attach yourself to Isagi’s side, eyebrows furrowing at Rin’s contemplation and Bachira’s determination.

Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you flash the both of them a wary smile before asking, “Are you guys having fun?”

Bachira grins and your stomach sinks. You’re not sure if you’re going to like where this is going to go. “Not as fun as you, I bet!”

You share a look with Isagi that only the two of you can decipher. “What do you mean?”

“We saw you dancing with Hinata,” your friend explains animatedly, pointing towards the boy seated at a table with his own teammates. “He’s cute! Have you ever thought about dating him?”

Rin’s face contorts into one of displeasure. Bachira does not have one subtle bone in his body.

You blink. Isagi places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed. “No? He’s my friend.”

“Oh! So, like Isagi?”

Isagi’s hand drops from your shoulder. Beside him, you’re biting the inside of your cheek, but the amusement on your face is as clear as day. “Bachira,” Isagi warns, frazzled and panicked.

Bachira frowns, confused by Isagi’s uneasiness. “What?” he questions, tone light and mischievous. He draws all his focus onto you, and you suddenly feel as if you’ve been shoved into an interrogation room. “It’s just a question! Even Rin said you two would look nice together!”

“He’s a friend,” you repeat, and it feels more like a reassurance for the boy next to you than anything else. “Speaking of which, Hinata wanted to talk to you, Yoichi, about the game last week. He said he wanted to congratulate you.”

Isagi brightens at the reminder of his goal that earned them a victory. “Oh—!”

“Wait,” Bachira interjects, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “You know him? Like, personally?”

“Yeah, we’re friends—”

Bachira gapes. “You have friends?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I meant other than us!” Bachira adds quickly. His mouth is hanging open, and the loudness of his shock has drawn the attention of the other guests, causing you to shrink into yourself. Your hand finds Isagi’s before you tug him away, throwing apologetic glances at any questioning looks you find yourself on the receiving end of.

“You idiot,” Rin hisses, “people are staring.”

Before Bachira can say anything more about his utter shock at Isagi having a social life outside of football, someone taps Rin on the shoulder. It’s an older man, presumably someone who wants to sponsor him, and at the sight, Rin glowers. When he looks over his shoulder in hopes of throwing Bachira under the bus, he sees that the spot beside him is empty.

A few feet away, a caterer yelps when Bachira accidentally bumps into them.

Rin grits his teeth.

(On your way to Hinata’s table, you snort, “And here I thought you liked Bachira’s jealousy plan.”

Isagi rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Yoichi,” you coo, which only causes his pout to grow, “I think you look cute when you’re jealous.”

“I hate you.”

You laugh and he tugs you closer to his side. “No,” you say softly, “you love me.”)

attempt five: itoshi rin.

Whoever thinks that Rin is doing this because he cares is way off base.

If anything, he’s doing this for the sake of his own wellbeing. He was stupid to leave this situation in the hands of his teammates, who have yet to make any progress on doing something about Isagi’s ridiculous pining.

This is how Rin finds himself standing in front of you, awkward and out of place, as you slowly place your duffel bag on the bench. Behind you, your teammates are warming up for the upcoming game, throwing the occasional perplexed glance at Rin’s intimidating figure, before deeming it better to brush him off and ask you about him later.

“Rin, hi,” you say apprehensively. “The game isn’t until five.”

“I know.”

“And it’s three.”

“I know.”

You wrinkle your nose at his tone but choose to ignore it so you can put your kneepads on and tie your shoelaces. In the corner of your eye, Rin continues to just stand; he’s so rigid that you’re convinced that a light shove is all you need for him to tip over and shatter on the floor like glass.

When the comfortable silence begins to grow awkward, Rin clears his throat, “I need to talk to you.”

“You could’ve just called me.”

“You wouldn’t have answered,” he deadpans, briefly glancing towards your phone, silenced, and peeking out the side of your bag, “and it’s important.”

“More important than preparing for a game?”

You gesture around you. Volleyballs soar through the air once they make contact with skin, forearms are tinged red, and shoes squeak against the vulcanized rubber floors. When Rin looks at you, you’re itching to leave, eager to part from him and this conversation in order to get your hands on a ball.

Rin hesitates. “Well… no?”

With a sigh and roll of your eyes, you point to the door. “Okay, well, tell me about it later. I’ll see you—”

“It’s about Isagi.”

You freeze.

“What about him?” you ask. Your previous chagrin has quickly been replaced by worry. A mien that’s a mixture of love and panic is painted across your face as you hastily grab your phone (Rin notices your lockscreen is a candid photo of Isagi playing with a cat on the screen) and open your messages.

“He likes you.”

A quiet moment passes.

Then, you croak, “I’m sorry?”

“He likes you,” Rin repeats uncomfortably. “He has feelings for you.”

You stare. Rin prepares himself for the flurry of feelings he’s sure he will be hit with in a matter of seconds. An assortment of disbelief and hope and infatuation that will come once you’ve been snapped out of your still state, face blank as the cogs in your mind begin to turn.

He prepares himself for your emotions.

Instead, he’s met with a harsh shove on his shoulder and the same annoyance that was on your face a few minutes ago. “That’s the emergency?” you exclaim incredulously. “I— This is unbelievable. This really couldn’t wait until later?”

Rin can barely contain his shock. This is the last reaction he was expecting. He’s seen only a handful of romance films, but he knows that they always involve a timid denial of feelings. When he came here, on his day off, with the intention of finally putting an end to everyone’s misery, he expected you to falter and soften before dialling Isagi’s number and confessing.

He did not prepare for your disbelief — not at his words, but more so at him.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes. Thank you for informing me. Now, can you go?”

Rin cannot believe his ears. “Do you understand what I just said?”

“Yes, I—”

“I’m pretty sure he—”

“I get it,” you interject, opting to start pushing him towards the exit. “And I already thanked you for telling me, it really is appreciated. I’ll see you at the game, yeah? Bye.”

With that, you spin on your heel and stomp over to the court, leaving Rin to stand in the door, dumbfounded.

Well, that is the first and the last time he’ll ever do something nice for you or Isagi Yoichi.

Isagi isn’t quite sure what he’s done wrong.

When his teammates take their seats one by one, he immediately notices the defeat strewn across their faces. Alarmed, he asks if they’re alright, but all he receives in response is Chigiri’s fatigued sigh and a sharp glare from Rin.

His eyes find yours once you step onto the court, and with a shrug of your shoulders and a reassuring smile, Isagi sweeps his worry under the rug. He knows you’ll end up telling him what you know later anyway, whether it be in the car or under the duvet, his thumbs rubbing circles on your wrist as you’re both lulled into slumber.

But right now, Isagi redirects all his energy into focussing on the game.

He ignores the chatter beside him, rapid bickering that doesn’t evolve into a full-out argument, and watches as you strike a ball to the floor with impressive ferocity. Isagi is the first out of his seat to shout for joy, followed by the rest of the delighted crowd. The smile of his face is so blinding it might as well light up the entire gymnasium.

After every point you score, he’s on his feet. Pride swells in his chest as your team inches closer and closer to victory. His cheeks hurt from how much he’s smiling, especially since it grows every time you make eye contact with him on the stands, beaming. After each set, Isagi makes a mental list of different things he could do to have you look at him that again.

It is only during the last set when Isagi’s smile drops. The intensity on his face is not dissimilar to the one he dons during a game, and his teammates bristle at the sight of it, unfamiliar to seeing it off the field. They can’t blame his sudden seriousness, though, because while your team is at match point, the opponents aren’t too far behind.

The whistle blows. A player serves the volleyball into the air.

Everything happens in slow motion. Isagi wonders if this is what it feels like to watch his games from the sidelines, with every breath feeling like it may thwart a play and every movement causing anxiety to crawl up his throat like bile.

When your hand touches the ball, spiking it for what Isagi swears is the nth time of the day, time no longer stands still. The crowd roars as you’re crushed into a hug by your teammates, all wearing matching grins of triumph.

The next few moments are the consequence of a split second decision.

Isagi didn’t know he was going to do this when he woke up this morning, the spot beside him cold and a text on his phone reminding him to eat breakfast. He spends the entire day doing the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, and moping in your absence, too busy to even consider going through with an act that could be a PR disaster.

But then you look at him, and you’re shining, and Isagi decides to give in.

He’s out of his chair within seconds, waving off the questioning remarks coming from his friends as he speeds to the court.

(He’s more than grateful that security knows who he is by now, because if he were any other guy, he would’ve been detained the moment his feet touched the floor).

You seem to understand all his intentions by the time he’s within earshot. That’s the one thing about you that Isagi could only imagine wrapping his head around. All it takes is one glance, one second, for you to know what he desires. It almost makes his heart burst, at the realization that somebody loves him so much that they know every inch of him.

“I’m sweaty,” you say once you’ve escaped your teammates’ grasp.

Isagi raises an eyebrow, because when has that ever stopped him? “I don’t care.”

Your face is in his hands within seconds, cradled in delicate fingers that contrast the way his lips move with enough passion to light the world on fire. Curling your fingers around his belt loops, you pull him closer before resting your hands on the sides of his neck with your thumb tracing his jawline.

Being with Isagi under the spotlight like this is exhilarating.

The happiness, however, is short lived.

“What the hell!” Bachira shrieks, and Isagi pulls away — not too far, though — and rests his head against your forehead, sighing. “Does this mean my plan worked?”

Rin growls. “There is no way in hell you’re taking credit for this.”

“Actually,” Reo chimes in, “I’m pretty sure Chigiri, Nagi, and I are the reason for all of this.”

Zantetsu scoffs, immediately pushing past Reo to get closer to you and Isagi. “No, this means you guys got the flowers—”

Isagi lifts his head up, exasperated. “We’ve been dating for five months.”

He had been hoping that statement alone would be enough to get them to shut up.

He is dreadfully wrong.

“What?” Chigiri exclaims. “So, everything we did was for nothing?”

“Wait,” Kunigami interjects, eyebrows furrowed. “So that means you guys have been giggly and insufferable all these months because you’ve been dating?”

You muse. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“And that’s not going to change?”

Isagi throws his arm over your shoulder. “Oh, definitely not.”

Silence.

Then, Bachira tugs Rin’s sleeve and gestures for everybody to get into a huddle.

“Guys,” he says in what you assume is his attempt at a whisper, but you’re close enough to hear, even with the surprised clamor from the audience. “We need to break them up.”

Isagi squawks in protest, letting go of you to force himself into the huddle.

You watch the scene with a fond smile. One of your teammates comes up beside you and murmurs in wonder, “Your boyfriend and his friends sure are something.”

“What, idiots? You can say idiots.”

Your teammate snorts. “Yeah. It’s a little endearing, though.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement, and when Isagi calls you over to help, you take his hand and let him drag you into the circle, shooting down all the suggestions they’ve jokingly made about you dumping him.

You’ve come to the realization that you fit. Right here, next to Isagi, there will always be a place for you. Perhaps, then, that makes you an idiot by association.

(You don’t think you’d have it any other way).

#isagi #isagi yoichi #bllk #blue lock #isagi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #fic: love and all its cons

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