#my worst wedding translation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notafunkiller · 7 months

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out of style

Summary: A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

Pairing: ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, oral séx, no condom (but f is on birth control), language, a little alcohol, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 7.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

What an ass... He has no shame at all. And the worst part? You’re still somehow surprised by it. As if you haven’t known him for years.

You look away, making sure to take a sip from your wine before focusing on the conversation again. It’s Nat’s big day, and you’re so happy for her, but listening to this story for the seventh time is exhausting. Same reactions, too: “Wow, he’s so well trained.” or “The wedding bands didn’t fall even once. Enzo is fantastic.” He’s a trained dog, you don’t get why they’re so fucking impressed.

You give Nat a smile before you excuse yourself to go to the bar. Maybe you should get a cocktail, the wine tastes terrible. On the way, you notice Steve talking to Miss Sunshine in the right corner, and you just nod toward him politely, trying to look unbothered. It’s his best friend’s girlfriend after all. What did you expect? Plus, maybe it’s just a polite conversation.

“A Sex on the Beach, please,” you murmur to the bartender.

“Vodka so early?”

You turn your head with a sigh just to see a guy you recognize from Nat’s engagement party. A fresh haircut, a simple suit and wandering eyes.

“Is there a time limit for a cocktail?” you respond, rolling your eyes when you notice he is still fixated on your chest.

He immediately raises his hands in defense as he takes a seat next to you.

God, if you hate one thing about being single besides the lack of sex is this… needing to deal with those men. It was perfect when Bucky used to take care of them.

“I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart.” You scrunch your nose instantly. God no!

“Here you go!” The bartender places the glass gently in front of you, and you’ve never been more grateful to see her.

“Thank you!” You smile before taking a huge sip, hoping it will turn him off and make him get away.

“A vodka tonic for me.” His tone is commanding, and you try not to roll your eyes again as he leans in closer. “We’re matching.”

“Huh?” You choke.

“Vodka lovers.”

Alright, time to get out of here!

You quickly grab your glass and stand up, making sure to fix your dress just in case, but his eyes are already on your breasts again. For fuck’s sake! How is he Steve’s cousin?

And talking about Steve, you almost jump when you hear him saying your name.

“Hey.” You’ve never been happier to see him.

You can’t say the same thing about his friend, who’s right next to him, looking the creepy blondie up and down.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asks with obvious concern. “Do you feel okay?”

“Hey, man! The food is great and the company even better. Look at her, such an eye candy, am I right?” He chuckles at his own disgusting comment. “I mean, you’re married. Don’t answer that, I don’t want Romanoff on my back.” And after all of this, he has the audacity to wink at Steve. But before you can throw your cocktail over his shirt and make a scene, Bucky’s already getting in front of you, blocking your view with his huge back.

“If you want to keep your teeth, get the fuck out of here and never, ever get even within three feet of my wife. Am I fucking clear?”

His tone is so cold, harsh, and arrogant at the same time, but also so possessive. It surprises both: you and Steve, because he immediately looks at you confused before dropping his eyes on your hand.

He must be looking for a ring.

God, you never hated Bucky more than when you see blondie standing up and going straight outside just like that. It makes you even angrier because it’s always a man who has to explain the obvious signs to these assholes so they leave. You say no? You are playing hard to get. You are with a man? Then it’s all off-limits.

You sip your cocktail with frustration, the taste of vodka lingering on your tongue.

Then, you take a step toward Bucky, grabbing his arm and turning him so he can face you. “Listen and listen good, I’m not your wife and I don’t need you to play the macho hero! I can handle myself, so back off!” You wanted to leave after saying this, but the way he looks at you makes you change your mind. His eyes softened, showing a trace of your old Bucky, and it only pisses you off more. He labeled you just like that... “I divorced you for a reason, I’m not your property or responsibility. Stay out of my fucking business or I’ll show you exactly how well I can take care of myself!”

You hand him your half-full glass and storm out, seeing red. Or well, blue.

You anticipated that he’d come after you, of course you did. You know him, as much as you hate to admit. You still know him well. Too well.

And when you hear his sigh behind you, you don’t jump.

“You can handle yourself, but he was all over you. Sorry for being a gentleman.” He apologizes sarcastically. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Too bad, Barnes! I am not your little wife. I am not your girlfriend. I am not even your friend.” You turn your head to look at him as he’s standing on the other side of the balcony. “And I am not that flavor of the month of yours, you have to kill these habits.”

He raises his head. “Flavor of the month?”

“Yeah, your plus one. You know, you should take care of her instead of trying to play hero and calling me your wife.”

“Keeping an eye on me? He smirks. “Thought you divorced me for a reason.”

Fuck him! He thinks he got you... “I did! You couldn’t open your mouth to say what bothers you, remember?”

“Well, I opened my mouth to do something else, far more exciting.”

You gasp, incredulous at his audacity.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream, walking toward him. “Seriously!”

“What is wrong with me? You tell me! You divorced me for a reason.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother? Fuck off already, Bucky!”

“You got angrier with me now than back there with him. Unbelievable!” He shakes his head.

You take a deep breath, trying not to have a crisis. You are not gonna let him get to you. “Look, can you just pretend this didn’t happen?”

He instantly looks at you shocked as he leans in. “This as in,” he waves between you two. “Our marriage? You think I can pretend our marriage never happened?” His voice grew louder, his words punctuated by sharp, angry inflections. “You think just because we divorced, you get to ask me that? How can you...”

You’re taken completely aback by his whole attitude, and it’s like you’re back in time at your wedding as he made you sneak out so he can make you come on his tongue after saying all sorts of things.

You don’t know why you suddenly remembered that, but you need to snap out of it.

“I meant the whole interaction, you annoying man!”

“How was I supposed to know?” He looks much more relaxed now, though, and before you can think about it, you’re poking his chest.

“Why would I tell you to forget about our marriage, Bucky?” You smile. “You are more than free to think about me as you fuck your little flavor of the month. I am not gonna stop that.”

You see his eyebrows raise instantly as his gaze drops to your finger. “My little flavor of the month? How many times did you think about me fucking her?” His hand finds your wrist. “Did you wonder if I’m fucking her from behind as I choke her? Did you imagine me coming all over her tits? Did you-”

You grab his cheeks, just the way he likes it, to stop him.

“You think I have nothing better to think about? I have my own dicks that occupy my thoughts,” you lie through your teeth, and he knows it. God, he knows it as he chuckles right away.

“What’s so funny, Barnes?” You let go, expecting him to do the same, but he’s still holding your other wrist.

“You have no dick to think about. I know you broke up with your last flavor of the month, honey.”

He knows how much you hate being mocked with the word honey, but you bite the inside of your cheeks. “It’s funny really,” you fake giggle, looking up at him. “You assume I don’t have someone already. Maybe I’m just enjoying my life after our divorce... new dick every month since I am a free woman. I don’t even need something serious. You know how much I love sex.”

His smile immediately drops, his face reddening.

“You are absolutely infuriating!” Even his tone carries a sense of irritation.

“Aww, what happened?”

It’s his turn to grab your face, making you gasp. You don’t remember the last time he touched you, and you’re shivering.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, and you know it!”

“I don’t play games, Bucky, that is your specialty.” You smile, trying to maintain your composure. “Now let me go and get back to your little girlfriend. You can be mad about how many dicks she thinks about.”

“You can’t do the whole non-attachment shit. I know you well, don’t forget that. You’re my...” He talks so fast you’re surprised he stopped. You know what he was gonna say, of course you know. The audacity!

“I am not your wife, Bucky. You literally have a woman with you here tonight. We divorced, we live in separate places, and we fuck different people.”

“Who are you fucking, huh?” He almost spits the last words. “Tell me! Nat said you’re single.”

“You’ve been asking Nat about my personal life?” And she is spilling to him? No way.

“Fuck...” he frowns, dropping his hand from your face. “No.”

“Steve!” You realize. “God, this is pathetic! Why do you keep tabs on me, huh? Can’t you just mind your own business? Is your life goal to piss me off?”

“I’m not the one calling Jessica the flavor of the month.”

“Ha!” You laugh in his face. “Well, you have no success in getting a girlfriend. And they all look pretty familiar.” You can’t hide the venom in your voice. “The differences are they’re just taller and with less in the chest department. Quite interesting, don’t you think?”

“So you’re keeping tabs on me too!”

“You flatter yourself. It’s quite obvious, look at Jessica. Does she know you were married to me? Does she beg you to fuck her mouth? Does she...” You take a deep breath. “Does she call you daddy, James? Does she ride you until you lose control and turn her on her back so you can pound her?” You don’t care anymore. Right or wrong, you’re gonna let it all out. “Do you praise her? Tell her how wet she is for you? How your cock is made for her? Do you... do you tell her you love her while she’s coming? Do you fucking call her your good girl?”

“Jesus-” You don’t let him continue his sentence, interrupting him.

“Does she take you like I did? Does she beg for you because she feels empty, James? Does she? Did any of them?”

“Stop. It.”

“Why? You didn’t stop!”

He sighs, reaching out to grab your cheeks gently. “No one does, are you happy? I don’t even fucking try. I don’t let anyone call me daddy, I don’t choke anyone and I definitely don’t fuck anyone like I fucked you. Are you happy? Seeing me miserable and pathetic? Are you enjoying it?”

You can’t deny the satisfaction and relief you feel when you hear that. Dating post-him was a very bad experience overall, so him not upgrading, indeed, in any way, makes you feel victorious. At least, you’re both suffering.

“Yeah, I actually enjoy that.”

“What about you?” He snaps. “Do you do all of that?”

“I don’t want to be called daddy, James.”

“You know exactly what I meant! You call those losers daddy? You choke around their cocks? Do you beg for their small dicks to go deeper and finish yourself off after it?”

“Like I begged for your small dick?” You ask annoyed, knowing how dumb this lie is, but what else can you say? No one compares to him and never will.

His response shocks you as he reaches down to the zipper of his worn jeans and pulls it down.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy?”

“Wanted to, you know… give you more mocking material in case you forgot how small it is.”

You have to think twice about what to say because the first thought was: I have enough videos, thanks. But you can’t. You can’t expose yourself like that.

“James, what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to hurt me?”

“With my small dick?”

You look away for a few seconds, not wanting him to read you. “Why are you doing this? We divorced, you’re seeing someone, I’m good by myself... just let it go.”

He smiles at that, and you realize you indirectly told him you are indeed not fucking anyone.

“Why would I let go of my wife?”

You’re slapping his chest before you realize what you’re doing. “Stop this, Bucky! Just fucking stop.”

He’s hurting you, how can he not see that?

“You said you divorced me for a reason. You said...” he pauses. “You ordered me to leave you alone. Well, what if I don’t want to?”

“What are you, a fucking stalker?”

“No!” He almost screams. “I am fucking in love with you, you infuriating woman!”

“W-what?”

He can’t be joking about this, can he? He is not cruel. He is not vile. This isn’t a game.

“I’m in love with you. I love you. You own me... you fucking control me.”

“How?”

He laughs hysterically, running his hands through his hair before pulling. “I am fucking obsessed with you: how you are, if you’re doing well, if you miss me, if you’re fucking someone else, if your date went great, if you regret being with me, if someone else makes you smile wider. I dream about you, I am so miserable I couldn’t be with anyone. With Mia it lasted a month. I wasn’t... I wasn’t okay. I am not okay.”

You look at him, waiting for more. “Go on and zip your jeans, we’re in public.” You watch him quickly do what you demand before you continue. “And what about Jessica tonight? Or Alexa a month ago? Why are you lying to me?”

“It’s not real. Jessica... I was just trying to make you jealous, okay? I was sneaking looks all night, have you not noticed at all?”

You don’t smile, despite your huge instinct to. Instead, you cross your arms, watching him drop his gaze straight to your boobs.

“Why would I notice, James?”

“Well, how did you notice Jessica looking a little like you, that she’s with me here?”

Fair point...

“Just...” You’re suddenly gripped by this crazy urge to just fuck him right here. You even regret telling him to zip back up. You could have just lifted your dress as he lowered his briefs and took out his cock. And just like that, you could have just fucked against the wall or something. You would have let him rip off your panties too. You just need his cock so badly! “Shut the fuck up!” You snap, grabbing him by his neck so he can lean in enough for you to be able to kiss him. And oh, you kiss him!

You don’t have to fight to dominate the kiss, surprisingly, because he lets you. He lets you bite his lip and almost draw blood, he lets you unzip his pants again and push down his unfit-for-a-wedding jacket, and most importantly, he lets you be his again, as pathetic as that might sound. You feel him emotionally, not just physically.

Without wasting more time, you drop to your knees, making sure only your dress and shoes touch the floor directly. You drag down his pants and briefs at the same time from your position, and he looks at you surprised.

“I thought we’re in public and you were fucking some-” his words die as you bring your tongue to the head of his cock, tasting the precum, but not sucking even a little bit.

“Weren’t you saying something?” You tuck your hair strands behind your ears as you mock him. You love being on your knees for Bucky. He has this dominant energy, but he always makes you feel in power even when he fuck your mouth. And you enjoy it, you feed on it. One of the reasons you missed him so much. And he can take mocking. “Please go on. I am all ears.” You breathe out on his dick. “And tongue.”

“Oh god,” Bucky’s voice is a moan at this point, and you laugh. So easy...

“I’m your god now? Aww! Come on, do I have to do everything tonight?”

He looks down at you confused. His blue eyes are almost grey, and you know he’s on cloud nine already just because you’re there.

“What?”

“Oh, you need translation. Well,” it’s all you say before wrapping your lips around his dick and using both of your hands to push him as deep as he can go inside your mouth. He moans at the same time you gag, and his balls slap you in the face. He instinctively looks at you to ask if you’re okay, but you are more than okay. You are fucking alive. You encourage him to fuck your throat at this point by squeezing his ass cheeks and touching his balls.

“God, look at you! That pretty black dress…” He pulls out and back in not as forcefully as he can, but enough to make you start tearing up quickly. “On your knees for your man. That mouth!”

You find yourself moaning at the feel of his fingers grasping and tugging at your hair. Jesus, how you missed this...

“You have the sweetest mouth.” Does he even realize what he’s mumbling? “I could die right here. Right now,” he says and thrusts harder, which makes you close your eyes. You can barely see anything because of the tears, and he’s already close. “My pretty baby, my fucking girl.”

You’re getting wetter and wetter the more he talks, and it’s crazy. You’re cold and your jaw is hurting, yet you love this.

“Not caring if someone can catch us, just making sure you mark me again. God, I'm gonna come, baby. Gonna... should I p-pull-”

You don’t let him finish his sentence as you grab his ass to make sure you keep him there, in your throat, as he comes while moaning your name.

When he finishes, he immediately helps you stand up, before he kisses you desperately, his tongue immediately licking your bottom lip to get access. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. You moan in the middle of the kiss because his semi-hard cock is right where you need it, and it’s like torture...

“Need to taste you, okay, baby?” He asks with so much need in his voice. He sounds so whipped. “Need my pussy. Can I take you to my room?”

That is perfect, a dream at this point. But you need to make him a little more desperate.

“But the wedding… They would kill us.”

“I am sure you care sooooo much about this wedding and Nat’s stories. More than about getting my tongue on that pretty clit of yours and making you come all over my face.”

You can’t hold back your laughter.

“Fair point, Mr. Barnes. I deserve my orgasms, especially after listening to you pathetically trying to seduce me by admitting how desperate you are.”

“You dropped to your knees on this balcony just to mark my cock as yours.”

You pull his hair a little. “You said it yourself, it's already mine. Now get that ugly jacket and carry me.”

Bucky snorts, kissing your cheek. “You bought me that ugly jacket.”

“I know.”

You don’t know where you left your phone and even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. All you can focus on is Bucky taking off your dress and groaning at the sight of your cups. You couldn’t wear a full bra, so you improvised. They could barely hold your breasts, but no nipples showing? Win.

“Hurry up!”

“Jesus,” he moans and reaches for your cups. Desperate man... you roll your eyes, but let him uncover your breasts and grab them into his hands eagerly. He’s not just holding them, he looks and touches them as if he’s never seen boobs in his entire life, let alone yours.

“James...” You sigh, throwing your head back in pleasure when he finally gets your nipple into his mouth. Your hand finds his hair instantly, and you watch him suck happily while playing with your other nipple.

“You’re quite hungry,” you say with a smile, stroking his hair. You missed this so much. His need to always touch or sleep on your boobs, the way he grabs them while he’s pounding you... You shiver in anticipation when he switches to the other tit.

“Fucking shit, I missed them so much.”

You snort. “My boobs?”

“Mine.” He’s not sucking anymore, he’s eating them, shocking you.

“H-hold on a second, Bucky. They’re breasts, not my clit.”

“It’s been a year, love. Let me get my fill. I died without them. Died!”

As much as you wanted to think only about the part he missed your boobs, you can’t help the jealousy that clouds your mind. You were divorced, yet the image of him sucking someone else’s tits makes you want to hit a wall. Mia all over him... You pull his hair angrily. “You surely had other tits in your mouth, Bucky, for the past year. Don’t pretend this is any different.”

He immediately stops sucking. “You... you can’t believe this. Tell me you don’t believe this.”

You look away, too proud to face him. “What am I supposed to believe, huh? It’s been one fucking year.”

“I’ve been yours this whole year. I’ve been thinking about you, fucking my fist while watching... our videos, as fucked up as it might be. I tried to date, but I failed, and trust me, it has nothing to do with the size of my dick and my age. No one is you. No one smells like you or talks like you. No one is my brat with the god complex.”

“God complex?” You raise your eyebrow, keeping your face straight. “Fuck you.”

“I will fuck it out of you as I usually do, don’t worry.”

“Then why does it keep coming back?”

He chuckles. “Because you want to get fucked all the goddamn time.”

“Like you don’t!” You puff. “Come on, I breathe in your direction and you get hard, Bucky.”

“Did you see yourself? Did you have sex with yourself? You cannot judge me!” He grabs your breasts again. “There is no comparison, okay? You have no rival. Never did, never will.”

“That’s all?” You puff, amused. “My looks?”

“Do I even have to say… Your god complex exists for a fucking reason. You’re the smartest, most sarcastic, and feistiest person I’ll ever meet. One mocking comment, and you know how I get.”

“Pathetic?” You mock him on purpose just to get the reaction he is talking about. You love it when he compliments you.

“Is this why you divorced me? Cause I am a pathetic son of a bitch?”

You take a deep breath. “I divorced you because you refused to communicate properly with me anymore, and you know it.”

“So not because of my small dick, either,” he remarks, making you roll your eyes.

“No, your small dick is one of the reasons I am here.”

Bucky dramatically touches his heart. “So you’re using me for my sex skills!”

“As if you don’t beg me to use you. Come on, put that mouth to good use before Nat comes after us.”

He doesn’t disappoint as he finally rips your underwear off, just like you fantasized about, and you use this as the perfect opportunity to fish for more.

“What happened, Jamie? So eager. Aren’t you a little good-”

The word boy comes out as a moan when you feel his index finger curled up inside you suddenly.

“What happened, honey? Too big for you?”

“Dick!”

“You’ll get that. I just need to erase the memories of having little pencils in here. That must have been traumatic.”

“You’re such a jerk!” You snort, but he’s right. It was really bad.

Bucky shrugs, finally kneeling properly between your legs before lifting them on his shoulders. God, yes!

“Gonna give my pussy some loving.”

“D-didn’t know you have a pussy, James.”

He smiles against your inner thigh. “I certainly keep what I lick.”

“Eww, what the fuck.”

He snorts, kissing your slit. “I am joking, baby. Tried to imitate one of those dicks you thought you could replace me with.”

Petty fucking bitch! You grab him by his hair and push him closer to your pussy.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!”

His tongue feels like heaven, indeed, on your clit. You’ve lost count of how many times you remembered him eating you out so you can come this year. He's just so good at eating your pussy.

You let out a satisfied sigh when he adds a second finger. You start to feel like before… like you and Bucky are still married and with no problem. Like you're happy. He makes you so happy. Made.

So you stare at his hair and stroke it as he sucks on your clit, completely squashed between your thighs, and try to hold back your tears.

When he adds his third finger and starts tracing eight figures on your clit with his tongue before he flattens it, you know you’re about to come.

There is something about the way he always manages to make you vulnerable even if it’s not intentional, to cut you open and get in... and you don’t want it to be over. You can’t let him go again after tonight. You’d suffocate.

Your efforts to delay your orgasm and not tear up are futile because when he sucks a little harder, you come and start sobbing somehow. The orgasm is strong and even though you’d want to watch Bucky, you close your eyes, letting yourself go, and shut your mind down for a second. Everything feels so overwhelming. So amplified…

You’re grateful he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, either, even though you felt him hesitating when he heard you crying. You really needed this.

As soon as you finish, you drop your legs, furiously trying to wipe your face. He knows the difference between crying because of a crazy orgasm and you being emotional. He instantly gets back on the bed next to you and pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve had in two years.

“God, I’m...” You don’t know how to continue this phrase. You should not feel sorry for crying and you’re not pathetic for it. “I m-missed you so much, Bucky. Why did you give up?”

You feel his warm breath on your forehead. “I never gave up, baby, I swear.”

“B-but you did. You didn’t even try for more than six months. When I told you...” You take a deep breath. “That I want a divorce, you didn’t even look at me. Once, Bucky! Not even once…” You show him your index finger. “You simply agreed. You gave up on us. I was waiting for you to say: no, let’s try. No, I’ll communicate. Your words...” You sob. “Your words would have been enough for me. You should know that.”

“Oh my god, baby, please, breathe!” He kisses your forehead over and over again. “I never gave up, I swear. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell you all of that, but you asked me for divorce. It felt like you wanted out. You were tired of fighting... you were tired of me. And I didn’t want to tell you to stay just so you could either stay with me out of pity or reject me. I would have died... To look at you and beg, and to see you detached.”

You shake your head into the crook of his neck. He cannot...

“How would I be detached if I tried for six months? How would I get tired of you?”

“Exactly. You tried for six months. I thought you snapped out of it...”

“Out of what?” You whisper, scared to say it louder, but he hears you anyway.

“Out of love.”

You immediately lift your head to look at him. He’s crying, too. “Bucky...” You bring your fingers to his cheeks and start to caress them.

“I just couldn’t remember us like this. I couldn’t look into your eyes and see you staring at me like I’m a stranger.”

“Jesus Christ, when did we fail to communicate this much?”

He knows you don’t expect an actual answer, so instead of speaking, he holds you, and kisses you, and makes you giggle.

The more you move into his lap, the better you feel his erection pressing against your pussy. So close, yet so far.

He groans, placing his hands on your hips. “Careful.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be careful. I want you to fuck me raw right now.”

“Right now? He snorts, using his position to his advantage and moving. And just like that, you’re suddenly pressed with your back against the bed, and his mouth covers the valley between your breasts. That didn’t take a lot of convincing.

“Did you fuck anyone else without protection?” You ask unsure how to formulate it without it sounding a little weird. You’re not even sure you want to know the answer if it’s positive, but still.

“No. Only condoms and well... to be honest more my fist,” he chuckles, helping you get on your back again by bringing a pillow under your head. “I tested myself, of course.”

You nod, trying to hide your happiness. You selfishly wanted this: no one but you to feel him without any barrier.

“Good.”

“What about you?”

“No one for me, either.”

You would laugh at his proud face if you didn’t know he might use it to tease you later. You can use it too, though.

“Come on, baby, spread your legs for me. Daddy’s home.”

You laugh surprised, but you do what he says. You really missed having him between your legs.

Needy, you reach for his T-shirt, that for some reason is still on, and you tug it down, showing him you want it off.

He hesitates for a couple of seconds too long before grabbing his T-shirt by the neck.

“Come on, what did you do? Got a tattoo?”

You get your answer as soon as he’s finally naked.

“Oh, God!” You instantly lift your hand so you can grab his necklace. “What the fuck, James...”

“I told you I never gave up on us.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been keeping it on since we divorced?”

He blushes, looking away. “Yeah.”

“Even when you were with other girls?”

Your heart is racing.

“Never took it off.”

You giggle, touching the surface of the ring over and over again.

“No wonder why nothing worked.”

“I had no intention to make it work.”

You say nothing, just looking into his eyes and letting him see how fucking much you love him, how he could never be a stranger, and you kiss him, wrapping your legs around his ass to show him what you need.

“I want you to pound me, okay? I want to feel you for days, do you hear me? I am so wet and ready. Please, just fuck me!”

You shiver a little when you feel the back of his hand brushing against your clit while he brings his cock to your entrance.

“Gonna make you mine again, alright? Gonna make you forget this year and everyone who,” He finally thrusts inside you. “Tried to get you.”

He’s thick. Really thick, and you can’t believe how you managed to survive without this stretched-out feeling for a whole fucking year.

“I hate you so much!’

He snorts. “I am pretty sure you love me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have my cock inside you after one year.”

“This is the problem!” You hiss when he pulls almost completely out. “One year, Bucky!”

“Aww!” He says a bit mockingly before thrusting all the way in again. Oh my God... you close your eyes. “Is this your bratty way of telling me you missed my small dick?”

“Bratty? You think this is bratty?” You ask him sarcastically before bringing a hand to his ass. “Harder!”

“Harder, huh?” He quickly unwraps your legs and turns you on your belly before you can react.

You gasp, shocked by how fast he is and hating the emptiness, but he ignores it, bringing a pillow under your pussy.

“Ass in the air, come on.”

You comply immediately, staring at his face from the side. He looks like he’s on a mission, with his hair already in all directions and the wedding band hanging around his neck.

The first thing you feel is his mouth on your ass cheek, licking on a spot before biting.

You hiss. “James!” It hurts, not more than a spanking, but you weren’t ready for that.

“Mine.”

You snort, wiggling your ass. “Yeah, yeah. Now gimme my cock.”

And he does. He so does, he’s not slowly entering you, no. He pushes in almost fully with only one thrust, making you bite into your pillow.

“You missed that, didn’t you? The way I fill you up is so good. The way...” He slaps your ass. “No one can make you feel so good. No one can fuck you like the desperate whore you are for my cock.”

You moan loudly into the pillow. You love being called a whore like this. Because he is right and he is obsessed with it, anyway. “B-Bucky...”

“Tell me whose cock you love? Tell me.”

He’s thrusting so fast at this point that you can barely even hear him.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, no. That is not what you call me like this.”

“James...”

He suddenly stops thrusting, and you whine, lifting your spinning head to look at him over your shoulder. No matter how much you try to tilt your hips to make him move, you fail.

“If you want to get fucked, baby, you gotta call me the right-”

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy. Happy now?”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not that happy with your tone.

You smirk.

“I see you need a lot of battiness fucked out of you.”

“Then why are you not fucking me, daddy?”

“Oh, goddamn it!” He’s not holding back now, moving like he used to. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you love me... that no one, fuck- no one is like me!”

His voice tinges with a hint of neediness... maybe even urge. His vulnerability takes you a little aback because it’s stronger than his mocking. He’s genuinely seeking for reassurance as he gazes at you with a mixture of desire, desperation and longing. He’s searching for validation in your eyes the way you were earlier, so you give it to him.

“You’re the only one for me, J-James. I love you forever. I never... I n-never stopped!” You can’t keep your head up a second longer as you drop it on your pillow, moaning.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You half-snort, half-moan. “W-we can’t.”

“We can.” The sound of his balls slapping against your pussy almost covers the sound of his voice.

“We... we have to apply first.”

He spanks your ass again, and you scream, the sudden pain making you feel so good.

“So wet for me. They stood no chance. T-they don’t know how hard you want it.”

“Daddy, please... Please!” You’re a moaning mess. You just need a little harder. Just a little.

You’re not sure if you’re gonna have a voice after this. He’s pounding you so hard.

“My good, good girl.” He’s squeezing your hips, and the sound of your skin slapping is echoing. “God, gonna come for me? Jesus, wanna fill you up with my come too. Please, baby.”

You don’t know when or how he manages to do it, but he sneaks one of his hands under your body and pinches your nipple. You gasp, the wave of pleasure hitting you as he keeps fucking you. You feel your body weakening when he says your name over andl over again, but you don’t open your eyes for a while, letting him fuck you desperately while playing with your breast.

“Gonna- fuck, take my come, wife! Take me!”

He’s coming so much... surprisingly much even for him. You can feel him dripping down your thighs even when he slows down, then stops his movements before he falls on top of you as soon as he finishes.

“James...” You groan. “You’re heavy.”

He places a small kiss on your back, and you giggle.

“I love you.”

You melt, but he moves to the side before you can reach for his cheeks.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him. “So much that I let you drag me out of my best friend’s wedding reception.”

Bucky snorts, brushing his nose against your face. “Pretend all you want, I know you were bored as fuck.” You feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whine. It’s a little uncomfortable. “Sorry, wifey.”

“I’m not your wife yet.”

“Yet, but you were and you will be again this week.” He takes your ring finger into his mouth.

“Bucky!”

“What? We need new rings.”

You try to pull out your finger. “No, we don’t. I have mine.”

“We need...”

“How about we use all that money for a vacation instead?”

“Neah, honeymoon is honeymoon.”

He finally lets your finger go. “We are not buying other wedding bands.”

“I am not debating a new engagement ring, though.”

You roll your eyes, but you know it’s the best deal you can get.

“Fine, a new engagement ring,” you agree while rolling ro his side and placing your head on his chest. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Don’t want to or can’t?”

You decide to surprise him by biting a spot right above his nipple. He groans while you simply laugh.

“You just can’t be subtle, can you?”

“If you’d wanted subtle you’d have gone for someone like Steve.”

“Eww, Bucky. I have your come dripping out of me and you bring up Steve?”

“You literally talked about Nat a sec ago.”

Then, as if a switch was flipped, your eyes widen. “Oh shit, my phone!”

“Where did you forget it?” Bucky asks casually, so used to gathering your things for you. You really missed that, too.

“Table. God... Do you think they know?”

“Know what?” He giggles, raising both of you until your backs touch the headboard. “That you dropped on your knees in the middle of the wedding to suck my cock? Or how I fucked you raw until you cried.” A sudden realization crosses his face. “You asked me to fuck you raw. Are you... still on the pills?”

You roll your eyes. “You think I’d let you fuck me like this for the first time we talked to each other properly since we divorced if there was a big chance to get pregnant?”

“I assume you are still on the pills, don’t be patronizing!” He kisses your nose, which he knows tickles you.

Ass...

“You are asking a dumb question instead of getting your ass downstairs to bring me my phone.”

“How is that dumb? I wanted to know if I should get you a pill or something.”

“So you don’t want babies with me!” You try not to laugh as you say it, biting your lip to keep your face serious.

“Why do you act as if I told you I don’t want a baby with you?” He chuckles when he sees you pouting. “We’re just getting back together and no way you’d want a baby now. But if I am wrong, let’s go for it. I can give you a baby, just get off the pills.”

“You don’t give me a baby, James. We have a baby together!”

He sighs, getting off the bed to get his clothes back on. “Obviously, but I am the one coming inside you. This is what I meant. I am all in. But we need some adapting time at least.”

You should stop this whole teasing-testing thing. You both have the same opinion after all. You might have a baby, and you know he’d be involved one hundred percent, but not now. Absolutely not.

“I know. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re such a tease.” He snorts, putting on his pants. “Before I go, do you want me to run you a bath or should I bring you a towel?”

“Do you plan on staying there?”

He turns his head to you instantly. “Yeah, sure. I am gonna eat some steak and brag about fucking my wife.”

“Alright, alright. Bring me a snack and we can take a bath together. Actually,” you think about it better. “I’m gonna clean up and wait for you.”

“You want me to fuck you again, don’t you?” He asks as he fixes his jacket.

“Why? Is this all you could give me?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Sure.” You spread your legs at the same time you grab your own breasts, making him groan. It’s so easy to get to him. And it’s hilarious.

“Jesus, you’re planning to kill me.”

“Not you acting as if it’s the first time this happened.”

“It is the first time in over a year, baby.”

You feel yourself softening again. “True. Now, please, please, please, don’t give them any details and bring me a snack.”

“What snack?”

“Anything, make me a plate, I don’t care.” He nods before reaching for the keys. “Oh, and Bucky? Tell your flavor of the month you don’t need her anymore.”

“I told you she is not-”

“And tell Nat I’ll make it up to her!” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. You don’t need him to defend a random girl’s honor.

“You’re so jealous.”

“Lock the door!”

You giggle satisfied when he closes the door and let yourself scream out of happiness while staring at the bite he left on your ring finger. Mrs. Barnes never got out of style.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #ex-husband!bucky barnes #divorced!bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluf #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #my fanfics #my stories

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bth3cowboi · 2 months

Text

snoop the bells, cs55xreader

part 1 part 2

masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

summary: Sometimes marriage is the result you get by mixing two long term partners, devotion and a love for a Snoopy plushie.

format: social media au

a/n: some spanish translations at the end! hope you enjoy

( twitter )

( instagram )

ynraces 3h

liked by carlossainz55, lewishamilton and 1.455.675 others

carlossainz55 2h

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 988.765 others

ynraces

liked by carlossainz, scuderiaferrari and 5.667.987 others

ynraces C&Y 25’ ❤️🪐 Ready to start a new journey with you, my beautiful boy and husband. Can’t wait to see what life bring us from now on, I love you.

tagged carlossainz55, carlossainzoficial;

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user1 OMGGGG

user2 THE ROYAL WEDDING

carlossainzoficial Hermosos mis hijos

carlossainz55 Gracias papá ❤️

ynraces 🥹❤️

user4 wow this is beautiful I cant

user5 PAPA SAINZ🥹🥹

lewishamilton Congratulations guys🫶 Wishing you the best

ynraces Thank you Lew! Thanks for coming too

user6 LEWIS WAS THERE? WHO ELSE??

carlossainz55 Te amo😍

ynraces I love you too my bambi

charles_leclerc How do you even find a snoopy for this?

charles_leclerc Also congrats on the wedding

ynraces snoopy and WOODSTOCK

carlossainz55 She has a pinterest board for every snoopy situation

ynraces babe I got that ring and RAN to my romantic board

charles_leclerc Wow you have one for everytime you crash or lose the car?😂

ynraces yes😳 its in between my “snoopy charles getting FUCKED by ferrari” board and my “snoopy charles loses in his home gp” board!!

landonorris DAMNNN

landonorris She ate you up 🫵🫣🤣

ynraces I also have “snoopy lando norris getting his first win” but its empty

charles_leclerc HAHAHAHA

landonorris :(

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, f1 and 4.677.233 others

carlossainz55 My perfect wife, my perfect girl. La mujer más guapa y especial que he podido conocer. I can’t imagine what life would be without you by my side so I will make sure to do everything right so you can stay with me forever. ❤️ I will always cherish this day, thank you.

tagged ynraces;

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user1 wow my parents🥺🥺

landonorris 🫶🫶 Love you guys

liked by carlossainz55, ynraces and 3.556 others

user2 ay the getting ready pic😭😭 im crying

user3 they just love each other too much your honor!!

sebastianvettel So happy for you! Congrats😊

ynraces thanks seb youre the best i miss you come back thank you again

user4 I get it girl I miss seb too💔

fernandoalo_oficial Vamos chicos💪 Felicidades

ynraces Mi puto padre💪💪

carlossainz55 Gracias!!

ynraces I know I want to stay with you forever, thank you for making me the happiest and luckiest girl! Sharing life with you is enough to keep me content, can’t ask for more:)

carlossainz55 Wow I love you

user5 Im sorry I cried

user6 yn being this serious and romantic just killed me

georgerussel63 👏👏❤️

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, ynraces and 2.400.876 others

landonorris Mr & Mrs Sainz wedding was kinda fire🔥🔥🔥

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user1 FERNANDO?? GEORGE?

user2 ehmmm have you seen CHARLES?

user3 How much alcohol was ingested omg

ynraces too much and yet not enough!!

user3 omg!!! girl CONGRATS!! I LOVE YOUR HUSBAND AND YOUR BABYYY

ynraces thank you thank you my babys the best (sometimes the husband too)

user4 thank you lando🙏 this is what i want to see

user5 Lando said f your wife, first pic is your father and us

landonorris I HAD TO PUT ME FIRST

carlossainz55 Thought this was jpg material🤔

landonorris Naaa my besties deserve to be on the main

charles_leclerc Well it should be, because I don’t remember that last photo

landonorris Oh those aren’t even your worsts… I’ve seen things

ynraces Send them ASAP I want to remember some things

carlossainz55 Send the red bull one

scuderiaferrari Should we get worried?🤔

charles_leclerc 😐😐

ynraces LOLLLLLLL U ARE GETTING DEMOTED 😹 🫵

charles_leclerc I wish the worst to that plushie of yours, I hope he gets lost

ynraces I pray you never win another GP in your life and you bring shame to every team you race for in the next ten years

ynraces Also his name is Baby Snoopy have some respect

carlossainz55 Ok that’s enough baby😘

ynraces k bbygirl😍🩷

user6 ☝️☝️That escalated quickly

user7 nah they know damn well to not mess with the dog

user8 this is lovely😭 and the kiss… wishing them and baby Snoopy the best!

——

translations: (in order of appearance)

Hermosos mis hijos: My beautiful kids.

La mujer más guapa y especial que he podido conocer: The most special and beautiful woman that I have ever met.

Vamos chicos. Felicidades: Let’s go guys. Congratulations!

Mi puto padre: My fucking father (Direct translation of a Spanish joke! They call Alonso father in sign of respect lol)

a/n: A lot of people wanted more Snoopy! So here it is!!!! If you want to read more don’t be shy and send me asks with requests! I will be working on them when I’m not too busy with college stuff<3

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #cs55 x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 #snoopycarlos

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peachessndreamss · 5 months

Text

Filled With Grace

Summery : High Septon Aemond request a private audience with a hight born lady the night before her wedding.

Characters : High Septon! Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Warnings : Dub Con, power imbalance, coercion, heavy religious themes & behaviors, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, unprotected p in v sex, corruption, loss of virginity, dacryhilia (if you squint), alcohol consumption, cannon divergent

Word count : 8 k

A/N : No one asked for this but it happened, also sorry in advance, sorry for what? sorry for everything. While English is my first language I'm also profoundly dyslexic, I've done my best to minimise spelling and grammar issues but I'm there still are plenty.

When Aemond Targaryen lost his eye he thought the worst of it was the scar but it turned out in the days and weeks after the incident, the cost kept mounting. Finding his father couldn’t look at him had been hard to take and they no longer spent the evenings together reading the histories, studying the great campaigns of ancient kings and speaking high Valeryian.

The last time his father truly looked at him was the night he sat the boy Aemond down and told him he was going into the service of the Seven. With his injury he could no longer be trusted to defend his brother’s weaker side in battle or in Kingship, and so it had been decided by the small council that he would be handed over to the Septons and be trained in the Faith. He was sent across the city and into the tall towers of Baelor's Great Sept.

When he wasn’t in training, or studying he would sit by the window and stare back across to the Red Keep, where his family continued to live their lives without him.

In the early days there was heartbreak, longing and grief, as Aemond spent more time at the Sept the pain turned to anger, his heart hardened and his soul blackened. Still as studious as ever he studied hard, learnt the words and the rituals and felt nothing.

At the age of 20 he moved back across the city, back into the Red Keep as the self-styled High Septon of the Red Keep. Despite his outward devotion to the Faith he opted to keep the name his family had given him, he believed his injury and his family’s reaction had stolen enough from him but they would not take his name.

In the 7 years that followed his return Aemond had manoeuvred himself from returning outcast to centre of all courtly life. His mother, who ruled in his sickly fathers place, relied on him constantly, looking to him for guidance in both spiritual and worldly matters and while he didn’t sit on the Small Council nothing happened in the room that he wasn’t already aware of.

He was the beating heart and soul of the Red Keep, the spiritual leader who blessed and condemned as he saw fit. He quickly learned his religious titles protected him from suspicion, so when a body turned up in the Red Keep with a broken neck or floating in the bay he was above reproach, regardless of any known animosities or feuds. He learnt being irreproachable had many benefits and he began to explore the possibilities now open to him.

Aemond was 23 years old the first time he'd had a high born maiden come to him before her wedding night, the first time had been less about the pleasures of the flesh and more about pushing the boundaries of the Lady who’d come to him as a willing sacrifice. The first time taught him that silence could be bought with loyalty and the promise of absolution, and if those two things weren’t enough, he always had fear.

Aemond occupied the highest tower of the Red Keep, three floors of round rooms stacked one on top the other. The lowest level was his Sept where the faithful came for his blessings, confession, where his mother lit candles and prayed and where she would ask him to translate the signs and symbols she saw everywhere and claimed were messages from the Gods.

The second floor were his audience rooms, official rooms where he might entertain visiting Septon’s or Lords who felt themselves in particular need of spiritual guidance.

The highest level was Aemond’s personal chambers, kept in semi-darkness at all times, the stone walls were dressed in rich tapestries and the large bed hung with blood red curtains. This was his innermost sanctum, the space that bore witness to Aemond’s true self and was the place he brought the high born Lady’s before their wedding day.

Tonight the room was set for such an event. The fire was burning in the hearth but all other lights had been extinguished. Goblets of deep red wine were sitting on the table, as well as a plate of sweets and cakes, in case she had a sweet tooth. Aemond knew the Lady who'd be visiting tonight, she'd been fostered at the Red Keep since her 12th name day and had grown up under the watchful eye of queen Alicent. Tomorrow she would marry Lord Tullly and the day after she would leave the Red Keep forever to take up her new role as lady of Riverrun, but tonight she belonged to him.

The knock on her chamber door was quiet but unmistakable, it helped that the lady had been waiting for it. Sitting at her dressing table, her back ramrod straight while trying to make sense of her flickering reflection in the warped surface of the mirror. Tomorrow was her wedding day, but tonight she had an audience with High Septon Aemond.

When she had first come to the Red Keep she had been under the protection of Queen Alicent, who she had followed around like a lost lamb until she was 15 and had been passed into the service of her daughter, Helaena, who she had served as a handmaiden while she waited for her father to broker a good enough marriage deal.

The deal had now been struck, the payments made and contracts for lands, livestock and men signed and sealed. All that was left was the wedding and due to her close status to the royal family, no expense was spared, her wedding gown had been trimmed with silver and gold threads and beaded with thousands of tiny river pearls. She had wept the first time she’d seen it from the sheer beauty of the garment and after that moment she had willed every day to pass faster so she could wear it.

The High Septon of the Red Keep called all high born brides to his tower the night before their weddings, and while the reason was never overtly discussed, the older ladies of the Red Keep would share knowing looks and speak in innuendo around the younger ladies, lording their superior knowledge and understanding over the young and naive.

But she had found by listening carefully both to the older women of the court and the giggling gossip of the serving women she’d come to the conclusion that she would be expected to give a private confession to the High Septon. Confession was usually a fairly private matter, with all people of all status expected to unburden themselves to their Septons but without further clarity she was left wondering what made these pre-wedding confessions something so hushed up and rarely talked of.

“Enter” she called softly, turning from her reflection toward the door.

A small serving girl stepped into the room, dressed in the same drab dress as all the other serving women and her hair covered with a square of the same fabric, she looked as indistinct as any other of the small folk serving in the Red Keep.

“High Septon Aemond ‘as asked to see you, milady,” the serving girl said softly, her eyes cast downward as she spoke, “I'm t’take you to ‘im,”.

The lady nodded and stood from the stool at her dressing table, she had known the summons were coming and so she’d not undressed from that night's celebration dinner. She was still wearing a deep blue silk gown, edged with silver threads and her hair was still twisted in its elaborate crown braid that had taken over an hour to arrange.

While the dress and the hair were elaborate, they were still modest enough for the act of contrition she assumed she was going too.

The serving girl stepped back and turned, moving silently down the corridor and the lady followed, wishing her own steps were as silent as they moved through the dark building, even in her silk slippers she could hear her footsteps and the swish of the fabric of her dress.

Despite living in the red keep for almost 10 years she could count on one hand the amount of times she'd been in the same room as Aemond Targaryen, he didn't waste his time on high born ladies under normal circumstances. The only women he ever seemed to speak with were his mother and his sister, she couldn’t be sure she’s ever even met his gaze, let alone have spoken with him.

At the foot of the high tower the serving girl opened a heavy door and led them up a tightly twisting set of stairs. They passed two doors on the twisting staircase before they reached the top and the final door. The serving girl knocked twice before melting back into the darkness of the stairwell.

A voice from within bid her enter and with trembling hands she pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold.

The room was so dark it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, still barely able to make out the shapes in the darkness but a rustle of fabric and a small movement drew her eye and from the blackness he appeared.

He didn’t wear Septon’s robes, instead he dressed every inch the royal son he was, in tight black trousers and a black high collared tunic, he was covered from neck to toe in tight black fabric that looked as close to his body as his own skin. His silver hair was tied back from his face and he wore a patch over his ruined eye. His good eye fixed on her, the indigo of it lost in the darkness so that it appeared to be a blackhole instead.

“My Lady,” he greeted, bowing deeply before straightening up and fixing his gaze on her face.

“Your Royal Highness,” she replied, dipping her knees in a curtsey, averting her eyes from his face, “I am your servant,” she added.

He moved toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, immediately the image of a stalking predator came to mind and her heartbeat quickened.

“Will you sit?” he asked, indicating the two chairs set close to the fire, a low table between them holding two filled wine goblets and a plate of small fruit tarts, the exact same that would be served at her wedding banquet tomorrow.

“If it pleases,” she replied, moving toward the chairs and stepping into the circle of flickering light cast by the fire.

“It does,” Aemond replied, taking the seat nearest to where he was standing and furthest from the light. He relaxed deeply into the seat, crossing one ankle over the other knee, one of his long arms stretching away from his body and toward the table, the tips of his fingers caressing the thin stem of the wine glass.

She followed his lead and sat, keeping her back straight and tall, crossing her feet at the ankles under the full skirts of her dress and letting her legs fall together against the arm of the chair in the way she'd been taught since she was old enough to sit in the company of others.

“Eat and drink, if you like,” Aemond said softly, despite the softness in his tone the invitation felt dangerous.

But she had been raised in the Queen’s household and had impeccable manners, she offered him a small smile and thanked him before lifting the goblet to her lips and taking a small sip. The wine was rich and strong, the scent of it alone causing her head to spin.

Aemond never took his eye from her, taking in the details of this high lady who he planned to bring so low. He noted the gloss on her lips from the wine, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she fought to master her heartbeat and the wide eyed look of fear on her pretty face which went straight between his thighs and caused his cock to strain against his trousers.

“Do you know why you’re here my Lady?” Aemond asked after she’d shakily returned the wine glass to the table.

“For confession?” she replied, her eyes flicking toward his face for a second before looking away again after meeting his burning gaze.

“To confess,” Aemond agreed, “and to meet with god,” he added softly, running his long fingers up the stem of the wine glass and cupping the curve of the bowl before bringing it to his mouth and taking a drink.

Aemond took a slow drink, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip before taking a shallow breath and placing the goblet back down on the table. The silence in the room was heavy, it deafened and roared at the same time and she was acutely aware of the sounds of her breathing and pounding heart.

“My Lady, the hour is late,” Aemond spoke, “why are you still dressed for banqueting?”

She glanced down at herself, the silver beads and stitching of the deep blue dress caught in the flickering fire light and she could feel every place the fabric touched her body.

“I didn’t want to be in a state of undress when you called for me, my Prince,” she replied.

Aemond chuckled softly, “So you knew you’d be summoned to me tonight?” he mused, “and how did you know?”.

In that moment she could have bitten her own tongue off to avoid saying anything further, how could she tell the truth without causing trouble for herself and the other ladies in waiting, gossip was considered below them, despite the fact that it made up a good majority of their days.

“It’s known,” she started before her voice stalled, she squirmed in her seat under the heat of his gaze, “that’s to say, some of the other ladies who’ve been married have mentioned they had a private audience with you,”.

Aemond nodded, while he outwardly gave no sign, he was privately elated, the more that people whispered and told stories of him the more they would fear him and the more power he would have over them. He would have to try and learn the details of the gossip and whispers, and if necessary change the narrative.

“I trust that what passes between us tonight will stay between us?” he asked, taking another drink, enjoying the rich and heady taste.

“Of course my Prince,” she agreed readily and he nodded.

A silence fell between them again, if she strained her ears she could just hear the sounds of the city, as distant as a dream from the covered windows. She dragged her attention back to the man in the room and she looked at him from under her lashes, not wanting to get caught staring. The flickering firelight cast his features in strong relief, his jaw and cheekbones looked like twin blades edging his face.

“In the eyes of the Gods,” Aemond started, his indigo eye fixed on the fire, “we’re born naked, we live naked and we die naked. They see and hear all of our sins, even the sins we never speak of, or act on, they know them and they judge us for them. We are never beyond the sight of the Gods,”.

“Of course, High Septon Aemond,” she replied, choosing to use his religious title as she felt the subtle change in him as he went from prince entertaining a guest to High Septon preparing for holy work.

“And while they sit in judgement of us, I have the power to forgive sins, to wipe clean the slate of any man or woman who is willing to ask for forgiveness,”.

Aemond turned his eye to her, catching her watching him, his gaze burning.

“My Lady,” Aemond turned his face from the fire toward her, “are you willing to ask for forgiveness tonight? To confess your sins and be cleansed?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I will,”.

He took a deep breath and nodded, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

“Then stand, my Lady, and you will confess as the God’s see you,” he paused for a tense second, “naked,”.

A chill ran up her spine despite the heat of the fire. Although she had expected to be called to him she had not known what he would want when she was there, she’d had no idea he’d expect her to undress, and if he expected that what else might he expect?

“My Prince, this gown is difficult to remove,” she spoke quickly, her heart thumping in her chest, “I’m sure the God’s will understand if I remain clothed,”.

“Stand,” Aemond commanded, and as if touched by a white hot poker she jumped from the seat and stood like marble, her eyes fixed on the prince.

“Gowns can be removed, repaired if necessary,” he said as he stood and stalked toward her, pulling a small blade from a concealed pocket at his hip, “your confession will not be complete unless you are as you were born,”.

He moved toward her and with a single strong shove he pushed the heavy chair she’d been sitting in out of the way and brought himself behind her. His breath was warm on the back of her neck, his left hand caressed her left arm.

“Please, my Prince,” she whispered as she sensed the movement of the right hand which held the blade.

He took a steadying breath before sliding the blade beneath the silk ribbon that held the back of the dress closed, with only a little pressure the blade slipped through each twist of silver silk and the dress began to open, exposing the bright white shift underneath. She had made a small sound of protest but had gone silent. While the blade never touched the thin fabric of her shift she could feel the coolness of the metal and imagine the sharpness of the blade.

The prince dropped the blade and used both his hands to pull the gown wider and push it off her shoulders, the weight of the skirt and the beading of the bodice dragged it down, slipping down her arms and off her hands. It landed in a pool of deep, glittering blue around her calves.

“Better,” Aemond breathed, stepping back a little and admiring her trembling body.

“If it pleases you,” she had to fight to keep her voice calm, tears pricked at her eyes and burned in the back of her throat.

Perhaps this would be as far as he took it, perhaps this was bear enough for him. Perhaps she could confess in her underclothes and be gone, but she only believed this for a second as she felt him take two strong handfuls of the neck of her shift and rip them viciously apart.

The soft fabric gave easily and ripped clearly down the middle, exposing her back and buttocks to him, again he gave the garment a soft shove over her shoulders and watched as it fell around her legs, landing on top of her gown like a blanket of snow.

“Oh it pleases me a great deal,” he said, stepping around her, caressing her arm as he came to stand in front of her, letting his eye travel up and down her body.

He took hold of her hand and lifted it before giving her a gentle tug, unable to disobey, she stepped forward out of the mess of fabric and further into the golden light of the fire. The only thing she wore now were the soft silk slippers.

Aemond studied her, the curve of her hips and buttocks, the softness of her stomach, the swell of her breasts that were topped with nipples several shades darker than her skin. As he watched gooseflesh crawled across her body, tightening her nipples into tight little points that he longed to reach out and pinch. SHe kept her face turned down and Aemond was transfixed by the curve of her cheek and the spiky shadows of her eyelashes.

She felt as if his gaze was burning and freezing her at the same time, every part of her body was exposed to him and he looked at her without shame. No man had ever seen her in such a state. She had been taught her nakedness was for her husband and for him alone but now she was being looked on by her High Septon, her prince, and his eyes were devouring her body, claiming something that shouldn’t belong to him.

“You are the Maiden incarnate,” he whispered as he dropped her hand and brought his fingertips to her chin. Lifting her head so he could look at her face. Though she still fought them she couldn’t help the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes or the tremble in her bottom lip.

“You might look like Her,” he started, his eye flicking to a small image of the Maiden he kept by the fire before returning his gaze to her, “but you are only human and therefore a sinner,” Aemond added with a sigh, as if disappointed to remember the woman before him was human and not divine, “so kneel,”.

“My Prince?” she questioned, the humiliation was already beyond what she thought she could survive but apparently he had more in his heart.

“Confession is given on your knees,” he explained calmly, “and so you must kneel,” he moved his hand from her chin to her shoulder, where he applied gentle pressure.

She allowed her knees to bend and buckle beneath her, dropping onto the thick carpet. Aemond felt his cock throb as her breasts bounced with the impact, he fought the intense and dark urge to force his cock into her mouth, instead he took a deep breath and placed his hand on the top of her head.

“Under the watchful eye of the seven, I hear your confession,”.

Aemond spoke the words he learned as a boy during his time in the High Sept. Confession had already fascinated him as a child and he’d hardly dared believe that people would willingly tell him the darkest secrets of their hearts.

“Under the watchful eye of the Seven, I give my confession,” she choked out, words she’d learnt as a small child and said hundreds of times in her life before now, but never like this.

“I, I confess to having cruel thoughts about others,” her voice cracked as she repeated another line she’s said a hundred times before to Septon after Septon. Aemond, with his eye closed and his hand still resting on the top of her head nodded.

“Go on,”.

“And I’ve told lies,”

“And, and, and,” she stumbled over her words, “I confess to having impure thoughts about men at court,”.

Aemond felt a throb between his thighs, this is what he’d been hoping for.

“What thoughts my lady?”.

“Thoughts of what it would be like to couple with them,”.

Aemond nodded benevolently and opened his eye, his gaze soft and loving as he watched the woman on her knees.

“That’s to be expected, as a bride in waiting,”.

“This is my confession,” she whispered.

The tears in her eyes blurred her vision but she nodded, her resolve strengthened now she’d done what he’d asked. Aemond nodded again and closed his eye, turning his face upward and addressing the air above their heads.

“The watchful eye of the Seven have heard your confession and I, High Septon Aemond Targaryen of the Red Keep, forgive your sins,”.

She gave out a shuddering breath as a tear slowly tracked down her cheek. She had survived, she had done as she was told and she was forgiven her sins.

His hand moved from the top of her head and he offered it to her, she took it and allowed him to support her back to her feet. She couldn't look at his face but instead her eyes focused on the floor at his feet. Again he moved his fingertips to her chin and lifted her face.

“You did very well my Lady,” he said softly as he stroked his finger down the curve of her cheek. Despite the warmth from the fire his fingers were like ice on her skin, “and now, you will take God inside you,”.

Her brows furrowed in confusion as a chill ran down her spine. Surely he couldn’t be talking about bedding her? Looking at her naked body was one thing but to give her maidenhead to him the night before her wedding was unthinkable but before she could voice any resistance he gently took her hand and led her toward the bed.

She moved as he directed her, unwilling but unable to resist him. The bed loomed, dark and foreboding in the centre of the room, she’d been able to ignore it up until now. As they moved closer she noticed the hangings and the coverings were a deep blood red, edged with black.

Aemond brought them to the foot of the bed, placing her so the back of her knees knocked against the bedframe and the plush bed sheets brushed against the bare backs of her thighs.

Aemond stroked her cheek again before brushing the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.

“You've got nothing to be scared of my Lady, don't you want to know the Gods in the most intimate way possible?”.

“Please my Lord,” she whispered, “l mean, I- I mean, my Prince,Your Highness, please,” she stumbled over her words, them coming out in a confused rush.

“Don't worry about titles now, Maiden,” he whispered, leaning his face close to her, letting his lips brush against her cheek, “tonight you can call me God,”.

She turned her head to look in his face, catching sight of one beautiful indigo eye before his lips crashed into hers in a bruising kiss. One of Aemond’s hands slipped up her back and held her at the base of her skull as the other wrapped around her naked waist, his cold hand resting on the small of her back. He pulled her tighter to his body, feeling the hard press of her soft skin through the leather and linen of his clothes.

Aemond licked his tongue along the line of her lips, desperate to taste her mouth, would the richness of the wine still linger on her tongue or would he be able to taste her fear? He broke away from her kiss and gazed down at her, noticing the tears in her pretty eyes and the wobble of her soft bottom lip.

“Give yourself to me,” he whispered, “submit to me, and be filled with grace,”.

She whimpered softly, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She felt nothing but fear, a clawing, ripping terror that started in her guts and filled every inch of her, she felt as if she opened her mouth to speak pitch black tar would come bubbling out of her throat.

There was immediate fear, what Aemond could do to her if she didn't give him what he wanted and there was the future fear, of the following night and her new husband finding her no longer the maiden he'd been promised.

Despite the fear, Aemond's words awakened something else inside her, a pinprick of excitement in the doom, a flickering flame of need in the darkness of terror. Aemond’s grip on the back of her head tightened, her eyes focused on his face again, she found him beautiful and terrible.

“Submit,” he said again softly before touching a kiss to her still closed mouth, “submit,” he breathed again, the sound barely audible above the thumping of the blood in her ears.

The quiet word sounded like a prayer, even though he held all the power in the few seconds after the soft plea had fallen from his lips she felt completely in control, she could deny him and walk away without further incident but she didn’t want to. She wanted to submit, she needed to give herself to him, her body and soul demanded it of her.

“I submit, my Prince,” she replied, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

Aemond brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her again, there was less aggression now and when he tightened his hold on her body there was a thrill of pleasure, like a seam of gold in the bedrock of her terror.

He ran his tongue along her lips again and this time she parted her mouth and felt his tongue slip against hers instantly. Without thought she felt herself grip at the arm he had wrapped around her body, her fingers gripping vivaciously at the sleeve of his coat, feeling the strong and lean arm under the fabric.

As her fingers gripped him Aemond groaned into her mouth, feeling his cock throbbing against the lacing of his breeches, the press of her soft body was no longer enough, he needed to take her.

He broke away from her mouth, his gaze focusing on her heaving breasts and the saliva coating her lips. His own heart was pounding and he felt like the room was spinning around him and she was the only steady point.

“Lie down,” he instructed.

She obeyed without hesitation, needing to do nothing but let herself drop down onto the mattress and lay her head back on the plush coverlet. Aemond’s gaze moved up and down her body, from the silk slippers still covering her feet, up her shapely legs to their apex where her sex was hidden by a thatch of curly hair. Further up her stomach to her breasts and their aching hard nipples, her throat and the curve of her jaw all the way to the top of her head where the crown of hair was coming loose.

Aemond moved directly between her legs, he bent and wrapped his hands behind her knees, yanking her forward so her bottom rested just at the edge of the bed. He kept her knees lifted and pushed her thighs high and further apart. Splitting open the lips of her cunt, exposing the glistening folds of her womanhood.

She was totally transfixed by him, and from her position below him light cast his features in even sharper relief. It was easy to believe that he was a God, surely no mere mortal could look like him.

As he stared between her legs he made a groaning sound from deep in his chest.

“Hold your legs, Maiden,” he said softly.

She replaced his hands with her own, keeping her sex exposed to him. There was an ache between her legs now that seemed to start somewhere deep within her lower belly and her body was acting and reacting in ways she'd never experienced before. Aemond's hands went to the laces at the front of his breeches, working quickly to loosen them and allow him to free his cock.

With a soft moan he pulled the hard muscle free, squeezing it at the root and watching as a bead of pearly white fluid appeared at the tip.

He stepped forward, pressing the length of his shaft between the soaked lips of her cunt, smearing himself in her arousal. She gasped at the contact, having never felt anything between her legs apart from her own fingers before this moment.

His cock was hot, smooth and hard as he moved it between her lips and she felt her whole body awaken at the feeling of the blunt head of his cock touching the hardened pearl between her legs.

Aemond watched with fascination as she reacted to his ministrations on her body. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell into a pretty O shape, Aemond felt his cock pulse with desire and he longed to see how many more reactions he could draw out of her untouched body.

The two of them were now soaked in her arousal, the hair between her legs glistening with wetness in the flickering fire light.Aemond took a steadying breath as he angled his cock at her tight entrance.

“Be filled with grace,” his voice was like a prayer as he finally pressed forward and pushed inside her.

She gasped at the sudden feeling of stretching and pressure, it was nothing like she'd felt before and in a flash the arousal seemed to disappear and the fear was back, gripping her like a vice and making it hard to breathe.

“Don't fight,” Aemond hissed, “submit,”.

She took a steadying breath, her eyes fixed on his face as he stared between their body’s, at the place the two of them were becoming one. After the initial pain and resistance she found her body wanting to welcome him, she found her cunt pulling at him hungrily and willingly changing to accept him inside her.

Once Aemond was resting deeply inside her he gave a shuddering breath. He couldn't hear anything but the pounding of blood in his ears and he could see nothing but the place where their bodies were joined.

“We are one, Maiden,” he said softly, looking up at her face and finding her watching him, a single tear escaping her eyes as he pushed another inch forward, finding her body yielding and vice-like in its grip.

“Don't weep,” he said, reaching forward and wiping the tear away from her eyes, “you are one with the Gods now,”.

Aemond gathered the tear on his thumb and brought the drop of liquid to his mouth, sucking it off the tip of his thumb. He brought his wet thumb down between their bodies and brushed it against the swollen pearl that peeked out from between her soaked lips. He could feel the tight channel of her cunt squeezing around him at the contact and a small moan slipped between her soft lips.

Slowly he began to move his hips in a slow, grinding motion. He wanted to stay as deeply rooted within her body as he could but he desperately wanted to bring her pleasure. To share with her the religious experience he was chasing. He ground his hips forward and used his thumb to swipe and stroke at her pearl.

Her whole body was on fire, every part of her mind, her body and her soul was suddenly awakened with pleasure. She moaned and immediately felt a deep shame at the sound. Aemond could sense the sudden shift in her and he looked at her face.

“Don't hide your sounds, my Maiden, they are prayers and I want to hear them,”.

After that, any sense of shame melted away, how could there be shame between them now? He had heard her confession and now he shared her body. There was no longer space for shame. The pleasure began to build and a deep groan moved through her body and filled the room as she gave into the pleasure.

Aemond changed from grinding to short, sharp thrusts, pistoning his hips and moving his cock in and out, the movements made easy by the arousal that slicked between their legs, spreading over her thighs. Her eyes widened and the grip behind her knees tightened as the pleasure inside her reached a fever pitch. She moaned loudly, thrashing her head against the bed, her eyes closing tightly.

“Submit to it, Maiden,” Aemond moaned as he felt her body tightening around him, “submit and feel God,”.

With his words she gave her body and mind over to the sensations, the knot that tightened within her belly and the tingling in her fingers and toes, every inch of her skin felt tight and hot and then suddenly, like a dam breaking, there was nothing but bliss.

The muscles of her stomach and thighs clenching, the tightening being echoed by the gripping tightness of her cunt around Aemond’s cock. Her blood felt like it was on fire as it raced around her body, burning her alive. Time seemed to stop and her body no longer felt physical, she had passed beyond physical and was now made of stars.

Aemond followed her into bliss with a deep groan and a final deep and shuddering thrust, pressing himself as deep inside her as possible before spilling his seed.

Panting and trembling, Aemond leaned forward, bringing his body over hers for the first time and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Still dazed she looked at him, through the haze of pleasure he could have been mistaken for an angel, she expected him to kiss her again but instead he straightened up and withdrew from her body. Tucking his wet, soft cock back into his breeches before roughly tightening the laces.

Aemond went to the door of his chambers and opened them, letting the serving girl who brought her here inside.

“Take her back to her room, repair her dress and stay with her all night,” he spoke quickly and firmly, the only outward sign of his recent activities was the slightly pink flush to his cheeks and the sweat gathered at his hairline.

“In the morning, make sure you stay with her,” he added, glancing back at the woman still naked on his bed, her chest still heaving and her eyes still unfocused.

“I must go to my Sept,” he finished before moving out of the room and down the winding staircase.

The serving girl brought a large, soft blanket to the bed and encouraged the lady to sit up, her hair was a mess, half fallen out of its elaborate style. She wrapped the blanket around the lady and drew it closed over her chest.

“‘ere milady,' she said softly, “so you don’ get cold,”.

The serving girl gathered up the ruined dress and the slip before returning to the bed and helping her to her feet. The lady was unsteady on her feet and was shocked back to reality by the pain between her legs.

She brought one hand to her mouth in horror, holding the blanket tightly around her body.

“What have I done?” She whispered, glancing back at the bed.

“Come on my lady,” the serving girl said softly, “let's get you back to your rooms,”.

She followed the serving girl out of the room and down the winding staircase. The stone was icy cold on her silk slippered feet and the chill moved up her legs, quickly turning her whole body to ice. At the bottom of the final turn she stopped outside the door to Aemonds Sept, through the door the sound of his prayers were just audible. She placed her hand on the door, going to push it open but the serving girl placed her hand over the lady's.

“We must go,” she urged.

The serving girl led her back to her rooms, managing to avoid any other living being in the red keep. Back in the safety of her rooms she helped the lady into her bed, her naked body slipping between the soft sheets.

“Sleep, milady,” the serving girl said, “I'll be ‘ere in the morning to help you get ready,”. She closed her eyes and without another thought she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Aemond knelt at his altar all night, the sun was creeping over the city when he finally opened his eye and unclasped his hands. A great deal of his religious devotion was for show, he felt almost nothing for the faith and used it only to manipulate those around him to his will. But after a night with a highborn maiden he often felt the need to unburden his soul.

He would not attend the wedding of his Maiden and Lord Tully, the ceremony would take place at Baelor's sept and the feast in the great hall. He wouldn't be expected to attend and he assumed his mother would pay him a visit after the festivities to fill him in on his brother's behaviour. He stood slowly from his altar to the Maiden, the candle he'd lit when he'd entered the night before was gutting and spitting as it gave its final flickers before going out, the wick drowning in a pool of its own wax.

Somewhere below the walls of the Red Keep a bell began to toll, waking the city and signalling the start of a new day. Aemond left his Sept, closing the door tightly behind him, he took the winding stairs back to his private rooms. The wine glasses and the plate of sweets were still on the table and the coverlet on the bed was rucked up from his Maidens thrashing and keening.

He could have knelt at the foot of the bed and placed his face where her arousal had soaked the fabric, he could smell the intimate musk of her body and let him become lost in memories.

He made to move toward the bed but there was a barely audible knock on the door, Aemond turned toward the door instead and called the visitor in.

His serving girl stepped into the room and closed the door silently behind herself. She was the only person in the Red Keep Aemond trusted without question.

“Milady slept fitfully, asked for you when she woke and has now been taken by ‘er mother and sisters to be washed and dressed,” she reported, her eyes focused on her feet.

“Thank you,” he replied, a cold distance in his voice.

“If you ‘ave no further need of me, Lord, I’ll be gone,'.

Aemond nodded and the girl left without another word or sound. Aemond took to his seat beside the fire, he drew a glass of red wine from the decanter on the table and drank deeply, scowling at the flames as they danced in the grate.

Some hours later the bell in the Great Sept rang out, a loud booming sound that travelled through the hot air across the city and out into the bay beyond. Underneath the tolling bell the bride stood as if made of stone, the only indication she was flesh and blood were the tears streaming down her cheeks.

The bride groom kept glancing at her nervously, was she weeping with joy? Unlikely he reasoned, was it sadness to be leaving the home she's known most of her life? Or was it fear of the night to come? He'd heard from his older, married brothers that virgin's could be fearful and unwilling on their wedding nights; he hoped he'd give a good showing of himself for her first experience of the marriage bed. After all, he'd never had any complaints before.

After the sun had set on the heaving city and the wedding feasting and drinking were done the newly weds were finally alone in their bridal chamber. The room was awash with light from torches and a blazing fire, the bed was made up in Tully colours and food and drink set out on a small table by the open window. She waited at the end of the bed for him, sitting with her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes turned down and the skin of her face tight and sore from the tears she’d been unable to stem.

Her new husband drank deeply from a wine goblet by the window, he was dressed in only his long white linen shirt and black leather riding boots, he drained his goblet and moved toward the bed. He’d decided he needed some extra liquid courage before taking his new wife to bed, he didn’t think he could cope with all the tears without something to help him forget the experience.

“Lie back, wife,” he said, his voice thick with drink, “we’ll soon have this done with,”.

Across the Red Keep Aemond sat alone in his chambers, he’d removed the patch from his ruined eye and the sapphire caught the flickering light from the fire, he stared at the flames as they twisted and licked around one another. Separate tongues of flame merging into a single burning light before breaking apart again and reaching desperately for cool air being drawn down the chimney.

The door to his room opened without warning, he turned his eye toward the darkened doorway and watched his mother enter. Her cheeks were flushed red with the wine she’d taken at the feast and her usually impeccable hair was looking dishevelled from dancing.

“Nice wedding?” Aemond asked as she sat heavily in the chair beside him and sighed deeply.

“Lovely,” Alicent mused with a smile, “the bride wouldn’t stop crying but she always was a miserable little thing,”.

Alicent looked over at her son, her smile was indulgent as she studied his profile.

“You should have been there,” she said softly.

Aemond gave a small shake of his head.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate,”.

“What would be inappropriate about you attending the wedding of members of the court?” Alicent argued.

Aemond, not in the mood to argue with his mother remained silent and returned his attention to the flames, tomorrow he would hold a service of devotion for his family and the small council and afterward he might entertain the master of coin to see what he could learn about the plans to deal with the civil unrest that was coming from Dorne.

“Anyway, I thought you’d like to know that Lord Beesbury has announced his plans to wed the Moreland girl before her next name day,”.

“The Moreland girl?” Aemond asked, turning his attention back to his mother.

“Another one of your sister's handmaids, the one with the golden hair and the crooked smile, she’s sweet enough but I feel for her marrying an old dog like Beesbury,” Alicent replied before lapsing into silence. The memory of her own marriage announcement brought sharply to the forefront of her mind.

Aemond’s fingers twitched against his knee, he knew the girl by sight and seemed to remember that despite the crookedness of her smile she showed it off willingly and often. He could help but wonder if she’d smile for him as he took her apart piece by piece.

“Before her next name day, you said?”.

“Hmm? Yes, about 3 months from now,” Alicent said, her mind now firmly fixed on the past.

Aemond nodded his head and drummed his fingers faster on his knee, not long to wait.

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monzabee · 9 months

Text

a not so meet cute – cl16

paper rings, prologue(?)

masterlist || series masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles meets his neighbour, who quickly captures his attention.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none other than charles being charles, also might have some cursing, google translate french

Request: “Hii if you’re taking requests could you please write a fic for Charles where he’s your best friend and he asks you to fake date him because he think he likes another girl so he wants to make her notice him/make her jealous kind of thing and you agree even though you love him and during the fake dating he realises that he loves you too and yeah angst fluff and all but a happy ending .If you decide to write this tysm and incase you don’t feel like writing this that’s cool too thanks either way ❤️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! although i am still working on the first chapter of this new series, i wanted to write a little something for you guys to introduce you to the world i had in mind! i know it was not on the wip schedule, but the inspiration struck so i decided to go with it. ever since i saw the wedding pictures of margaret qualley and jack antonoff, the only thing i've been thinking of was the song, and i though it was the perfect song for the characters i had in mind. so, welcome to the new series, inspired by the request above, so thank you for the anon who put the idea in my mind to create this whole series, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

August, 2017

He met Margaret on our rooftop, she was wearing white And he was like, "I might be in trouble"

Charles loves his country, he really does. He’s always been patriotic of some sorts, he supposes. But the one thing he absolutely loathes about Monaco? The heat, no questions asked. The worst part isn’t even the heat itself, per se, it is the fact that his apartment has no elevator and he has to walk up five stories just to make it to his apartment – in the heat. So yeah, even though he is as patriotic of a Monégasque as they come, he definitely wishes he was somewhere else at the moment. When he does make to his floor, however, he’s met with a rather peculiar view, where his new neighbour is yelling at someone on the phone.

“No, I said I wanted the granite counters,” the person specify, fingers clutching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No!” The man straight up yells, “Ceux en granit, connard, pas ceux en graphite. I don’t think they even come in graphite!”

Deciding to remain silent as he makes his way towards his own apartment, Charles ignores the man standing in front of the apartment opposite of his. Though, he realises that the apartment’s door is open and there is construction going on inside, which explains the drilling sounds he’s been hearing early in the morning and the smell of fresh paint that never seems to leave the shared floor.

Side-eyeing the whole ordeal, he manages to make it to his apartment without attracting the attention of the man – or so he thinks. Just as he’s about to unlock his front door, he feels a pat on his shoulder. As he turns towards the man, there is a curious look on his face, “Hi?”

“Hello,” the man greets, “do you know how i can contact the superintendent?”

For reasons unknown (extreme hangover), Charles’ brain decides to blank out, “Quoi?”

“Le commissaire,” the man clarifies, “savez-vous comment je peux les contacter?” And Charles realises he would have been impressed with the man’s accent if he wasn’t so hangover from the night before. The superintendent, do you know how I can contact them?

“Ah,” Charles nods in understanding, “sure, let me give you his number.”

After the man saves the number he gives to his phone, he extends his hand in a friendly greeting. “I owe you one, I’m Declan, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Charles,” he responds with, what he hopes to be, a friendly smile. Motioning the apartment behind them, he asks, “Are you my new neighbour?”

“Oh, no, no,” Declan laughs, and it’s a warm, almost infectious laugh. It reminds Charles of– well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Declan’s voice draws him back to the conversation, “My sister is, I’m renovating it for her.”

Charles nods in understanding, “Ah, I see. I’ve never seen her around, I don’t think.”

“Well that’d be because she’s as annoying as little sisters come,” Declan laughs again, and this time it manages to get a smile out of Charles. “You know what? We’re actually having a small party at my place tonight, why don’t you come?”

“You’ve just met me,” Charles points out, voicing his confusion, “you really want to invite me to your house?”

“Pish posh,” Declan waves him off, already starting to walk back to his sister’s apartment “I’ll send you the details, bring alcohol!”

Charles tries to come up with excuses to give Declan when he’s a no show at the party, but all the excused he come up with sounding either shitty, entitled or just a mess in general. So he convinces himself to get ready after a much needed shower, and remembers to pick up a bottle of tequila on his way to the address Declan texted him earlier that day. Considering the amount of cars parked in front of the apartment complex, Charles thinks whether it’s going to be a ‘small’ party as Declan put earlier, but he manages to find a place to park his car, nonetheless. Surprisingly, it’s not hard to find which apartment belongs to his new ‘friend’, as the people he seems to keep literally bumping into give him directions which lead him to the top floor – he thinks, like brother like sister, huh?

“Ah, bienvenu, Charles!” Declan greets him as he enters the apartment, filled with more people than he honestly expected; but hey, they are in Monte Carlo after all.

Because he was raised by his mother, Charles replies, “Merci de me recevoir,” but because he is Charles, he finds himself reverting easily to French. Of course, he soon realises that his new friend has no trouble understanding him.

“Of course, ma maison est ta maison.” With a wide smile that reaches his eyes, he takes the bottle Charles offer him and pats his shoulder in a friendly manner, “Good lad, let me put this in the kitchen and we’ll find my sister together. I suppose she’s here somewhere.”

Giving him a firm nod, Charles is suddenly left alone to gaze around the living area. He quickly realises that he’s not the only one who is particularly patriotic as he comes face to face with the Union Jack on the wall, proudly displayed on the wall, seems to tell a story of cultural connections and a home away from home. He’s also, somehow, met with a very eccentric group of people, who seem to be insistent on having him join their various conversation – which he does his best to partake in.

As he chats with a group of fellow partygoers, he notices Declan making his way through the crowd toward him. “Charles,” he says with an apologetic smile, “sorry for that, let’s go.”

As they move through the apartment, Charles catches glimpses of the décor, which can only be described as eclectic, but what he realises that Declan made sure to fill up his walls with all kinds of memories; from photographs of what Charles thinks is his family to his diplomas, to even famous artwork – he’s not sure whether the Warhol he just passed by is real or not, but he supposes it’s probably the first option. They arrive at a corner of the rooftop terrace where a cozy seating area is arranged. A few guests are engaged in animated discussions, while others lounge comfortably, enjoying the ambiance. However, it doesn’t take either him or Declan to realise that his sister is, in fact, not with the group.

Though, it doesn’t take the latter to spot his sister, mumbling with a wince under his breath, and when Charles follows Declan's gaze to find her engaged in a rather animated discussion with a man who looks both frustrated and slightly bewildered by her. “Poor guy.”

“Seems like she's keeping him entertained.” Charles offer, careful with his words, and also quite confused at the man’s reactions to whatever Declan’s sister seems to be saying.

“Eh, sisters.” Declan shrugs, and motions Charles to follow him.

As they approach their corner of the terrace, her voice becomes clearer, and Charles can overhear snippets of the conversation. “I just don’t understand why we can’t print more money,” she says in an airy voice.

The man she's speaking to rubs his temples, clearly grappling with how to respond. “Well, it's not that simple. Printing more money can lead to inflation and devalue the currency.” He takes a moment to think, then, “Think of it like shoes–”

“Okay,” Declan laughs nervously as he places himself between the two, turning to the other man with a kind smile, “I think we’re done here, mate, she’s playing you. She’s an econ major, sorry for that.” Though Charles can’t see the expression on her face, he imagines there’s some sort of a victorious smile as she waves the man away, “Stop emasculating my friends, please.”

“Well choose better friends, and I won’t,” she shrugs, following his brother’s movements as he makes his way back near Charles, she turns towards him as the white dress she’s wearing sways gently in the evening breeze. There’s a surprised look on her face when she realises and they are not alone, “Um, hi.”

With a playful grin, Declan points to Charles and turns to his sister, “This is Charles, your new neighbour, and Charles, this is my sister–”

Bambi.

It’s the only word that comes to Charles’ mind when he sees your eyes and a friendly smile you give to him, “Nice to meet you, Charles.”

His eyes fall down to your extended hand, and he scrambles to regain his composure, taking your hand and shaking it gently. “Uh, yes, nice to meet you too.”

With an unexpected clap from your brother, which has both you and Charles jumping slightly, you turn to him with a glare, “Well, now that you know each other, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. And you,” he points to you which elicits a raised eyebrow from you, “don’t scare him off, and for God’s sake change this music.”

“What’s wrong with ABBA?” You ask with a small pout already forming on your lips.

“We need a change,” Charles watches with a silent chuckle as Declan starts walking back towards the kitchen, “ergo, change it!”

“Well that was an interesting exit,” you mumble, eyes following your brother until he’s out of both your and Charles’ views. Afterwards, you turn your attention back to the man standing in front of you, “What do you think about The Smiths?”

“Who?” Charles asks you, confusion written on his face.

“Not The Who,” you nudge him slightly, chuckling softly, though your laughter dies down once you realise he’s really confused. “I– The Smiths, Charles! To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die,” you softly sing, but he replies with a small shake of his head, and a shrug. “Oh, I love The Smiths! Come on, you have a lot to learn.”

As you grab him by his wrist to guide him back inside the apartment, I might be in trouble, he thinks to himself. And then, you turn around to give him a full smile, with a glint of mischief in your eyes that he can't quite interpret, and say, “I can already feel that we are going to be very good friends.”

And then he knows, he’s definitely in trouble.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

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two-white-butterflies · 8 months

Text

3 Billion, You're the One. | C55

Description: Carlos Sainz was the one that got away.

carlossainzupdates: Carlos Sainz and longtime girlfriend, Y/N L/N have reportedly called it quits. They have been together for a decade. #CarlosSainz #Y/NL/N

liked by 812 others

>comments

lovelydonna8: OH MY GOD? 😭

benedictos00: when they supported each other at their worst but couldn't support each other at their best ❤️‍🩹

secretjokes: love is not real

yourusername: 'AIR' EP will be out tomorrow!

liked by 821,392 others

>comments

carlossainzsupremacy: CARLOS IS LITERALLY THE AIR THAT BRINGS HER TO THE SHORE??

ynsupremegod2: She dyed her hair oMGG!!

iloveyn8fanbase: "I'm the diablo that's meant for you." USED TO BE SUCH A CRINGE LINE BUT AFTER LISTENING TO HER WHOLE DISCOGRAPHY IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE. - dolly38: there's such an angsty cringy part about her music that people need to talk about ...

yourusername: Oh diba, nakakaputangina? FUCKK I cannot get over the translation ya'll creative folks did on tiktok. ❤️ this song has been in my archives for 3 months (?) and now this song is yours!

liked by landonorris and 1,293,291 others

>comments have been restricted

YNUPDATES: I'm so sad that Carlos and Y/N broke up. They've been together since they were both 18 and she was an exchange student from Korea 🇰🇷 I'm sure that they broke up for a reason and we should support them in their individual ventures!

liked by 182,392 others

>comments

babyme2: I knew that something was up when they postponed their wedding in 2020 to 2022 then postponed it from 2022 to 2023...and now they've broken up

carlossainz55: Let's stay focused. #FormulaOne

liked by 928,128 others

>comments have been restricted

CARLOS SAINZ SPEAKS UP ABOUT HIS BREAKUP WITH KOREAN-SPANISH SINGER, Y/N L/N.

CarlosAndY/N: literally the epitome of 'destined to meet' but not destined to end up with each other 😭

A/N: INSPIRED BY JUAN KARLOS' ERE

#carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula one imagines #formula one

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

Text

paper planes

brother to fushiguro tsumiki. (unofficially adopted) son to gojo satoru and you. nephew to a host of sorcerer uncles and aunts. (unwilling) assistant to the white-haired idiot. and, finally, ringbearer at your and gojo's still-undetermined wedding.

one teeny-tiny boy with one too many identity is what fushiguro megumi is - until he isn't. with lots and lots of sniffles and sniggers...

▸ gojo satoru x fem! reader; established relationship; post hidden inventory arc; manga spoilers; proposals; adoptions; alternate universe happy for everyone except toji lovers (sorry ＞︿＜)

▸ two fics in a week, wow. guess this is what is called a brainrot, huh? read this post by @/mintmatcha on tumblr and started writing this lol. but the plot of this story is miles, tons, eons away from that post, i swear. also, this fic is set in the same universe as blue hawaii but you need not read that first to read this. treat this as a stand-alone if you wanna! 😊 anyways, gif, divider and characters ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"yeah, yeah, i've got it all planned."

a discreet eye roll is all megumi gives as he goes through the menu card in his hands. a little distance away, he can spy tsumiki and you seated at a table, you tying his sister's long hair into braids while the latter laughs, probably at a joke you cracked.

a tiny smile rests on the little boy's face at the sight - which vanishes when he feels a large hand tousle his hair. you had spent hours and hours righting his hair into a proper shape; why must this idiot always mess everything up?

megumi looks up to find his guardian looking down at him with a shit-eating grin; though he can clearly see the nerves it's covering.

idiot.

phone wedged in between his ear and shoulder, gojo mutters a "one sec, suguru," and crouches down to the boy's eye level. the latter gives back an unimpressed stare.

"decided what you wanna have, 'gumi? remember mom and sis there asked you to choose for them today."

megumi feels an urge to say you two aren't his real parents - but stamps it down instantly. the both of you have been as good as real parents can be to their kids - or maybe even better. the boy has read books, watched movies and listened to his classmates talk about their families; the tiny urchin-head knows.

with a huff, he points at the double chicken fillet burger box - it's tsumiki's favourite and you too don't seem to dislike it. with a nod, gojo rises and placing his orders, returns to the call, beaming expression again directed at megumi.

"yeah, yeah, don't worry, man," he speaks into the phone, then drops his volume to a mere whisper, "'my little kiddo here is a born actor. he remembers the entire plan, step by step - don't you, buddy?"

megumi gives an imperceptible nod, itching back to get back to the table. he already would have - needless to say, the little munchkin prefers your company to gojo's, way way more - but their orders have not been delivered yet and the boy promised to be-

a little tap on the shoulder draws him from his musings and he cranes his neck up to find gojo frowning. "no, megumi didn't want to discuss the plan with me before leaving. no, he doesn't like you better- hey," the man looks at him, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose revealing his indignant gaze, "you wanna discuss with uncle suguru one last time?"

an indifferent shrug is all the reply he gives.

while uncle suguru isn't the best uncle he has, he isn't the worst either. the others are- oh, wait. the others include uncle kento and uncle yu. they are literal angels compared to him. so... maybe... he is the worst... never mind. it's too late to back out anyways.

grumbling, gojo hands him the phone. "hello uncle," megumi greets just like you and tsumiki have taught him to. the man behind mutters something along the lines of ''traitor" or something; the boy pays him no mind.

"hey champ," the voice floats over the line, pleasant, kind and the way people talk to babbling babies. megumi's bored face turns irritated. "let's discuss the semantics one last time before boarding your flight, okay?"

"yeah, okay," megumi says, and casting a sideways glance at his bundle-of-nerves guardian, continues, "we're going to reykjavik," he looks at gojo, silently asking if he pronounced it correctly. the man sends him a thumbs-up with an encouraging grin.

the kid continues, "the plane will land at noon day after tomorrow, which is mom's birthday. first, we will go to the hotel. then, after resting, in the evening, we will head out in a car to watch the northern lights. and then-"

"-when it's the right moment, your dad will pop the question to your mom and you'll click the camera. got it, mr. future ringbearer?" finishing the rest of the sentence for him, the man at the other end asks, sounds of pans clacking and food sizzling in the background. nana-chan and mimi-chan must have woken up.

megumi nods. "yeah, got it, mr. future best man."

a chuckle comes in response to his comment. "you're a lot like your mom, y'know?"

"yeah," he mumbles, waving back to you and tsumiki, a little smile on his otherwise-impassive-but-always-adorable face, "i know."

"good," the man says, then pauses when a loud crash booms through the air and through the phone, a set of two wailing voices following it not soon after. megumi can quite literally picture the wincing frown his uncle is wearing as he says the next words in a hurry, "okay, 'gumi. talk to you later. bye, and best of luck! satoru's counting on his little assistant."

"yeah, thanks," he responds but is too late - the call is already cut by then.

giving the phone back to gojo, who's tapping his sneakers-clad feet on the floor, he looks back ahead, wondering when the hell heck their token number will be displayed and when they will get their food.

to the kid's great relief, it doesn't take a lot of time.

before long, the four of you are seated around the table, gojo stealing a sip from your drink and you stealing fries from him, all the while tsumiki giggles loudly at your antics. megumi smiles, before he hides it behind the burger which he takes a bite from.

the four of you really look like a family, don't you?

"hey, guys, can i have your attention for a sec, please?" your sudden question startles him from his mind. the boy turns to find you with your usual grin, albeit a smidgen of anxiety can be found in the way your fingers drum on the table.

megumi shares a look with tsumiki and gojo. they look as confused as he feels. "do i have your attention, people?" you ask again, manner growing a tad solemn unlike your usual, though the affection is still evident in your tone.

gojo and tsumiki nod immediately. you turn to him, gently smiling, "can i have your attention too, 'gumi? please?"

the boy nods his head instantly. "yeah, yeah. sure," he replies, scooting his chair closer to yours. you send him a relieved smile. "good, 'cause what i'm going to say next is very important. so, listen to me carefully, 'kay?"

all three of them are eager to nod in affirmation and anticipation.

scouring through your backpack, you retrieve a couple of pretty important-looking papers, and placing them back on the table, clasp your hands atop them. the kid spots gojo shoot you a worried look to which you respond with a reassuring smile.

the man's frown fades a little.

gaze now darting from one kid to another, you begin, "you two know, right, we love you very much?"

"yeah!" tsumiki exclaims, but is quick to fall silent when megumi shoots her a glare. you proceed, lips pressing into a thin line, "but we cannot adopt you two, in spite of how much all us want it to happen. we tried to, many, many times. but those higher-ups just won't let us do that."

a second passes - one wherein his young brain registers your words - before, lower lip wobbling, the boy casts his gaze down upon his light-up sneakers.

is this where you'll say he'll be sent to those zen'ins? away from his sister? away from you and gojo? away from all his uncles, aunts, nana-chan and mimi-chan?

megumi feels a hand card through his locks gently. looking up, he finds you with a soft smile. "but the thing is 'toru and i didn't let them defeat our purpose. we thought, you two can choose to be my clan's wards. not 'toru's, because of fucking - sorry, please forget i said that word - i meant, idiotic clan politics. so, what do you think?"

megumi turns to his sister, a pensive look plastered on her face the way it is on his. gojo adds, a tender smile in place of his usual stupid grin, "no pressure, kids. the both of us won't love you two any less and will be equally fine in case you choose not to."

"you guys can take how much ever time you need to think. there's no hurry," megumi hears you say, your warm hand rubbing circles on his back, as he turns back to his half-eaten burger.

a long moment passes.

passengers enter the cafeteria, they leave the cafeteria. the four of you remain seated, quietly munching on your food.

the boy finally removes his gaze from his now-empty tray and sends an inquiring, confused, hopeful look to his sister. tsumiki smiles back with a tiny nod. the little kid feels his heart burst with joy.

"we want to," the two of them answer in unison, and within a fraction of a second, megumi finds himself swept up in a warm hug alongside his sister, by you. "thank you for giving me, for giving us a chance," he hears you mutter quietly in a tear-choked voice. the boy simply pats your back the way you do to him. he soon feels another set of arms wrap around the three of you.

megumi thinks he has never felt happier or safer than in this moment.

a while passes with the four of you in this manner, enwrapped in an embrace, before you all finally pull away from each other.

the boy returns to his seat, rubbing his eyes. a minute passes in composing all of yourselves before you state, munching on another fry, "so, step one, including tsumiki and megumi into my legal family is done and successful. thank you, my loves."

tsumiki beams back at you; megumi returns a tiny smile. you grin at them - which, the kid watches, turns slyer as you switch your focus to your boyfriend.

the little boy stares at you, then stifles a snicker - he thinks he has a pretty good idea of what's gonna happen next. his gut instincts are rarely wrong, after all.

"but, 'toru..." you drawl, grin giving way to a smirk as gojo smiles back - perplexed but loving all the same. "for the step two, making you my legal family too, guess i need to wait to say 'yes' until the northern lights viewing two days later... don't i?"

a beat passes, then another, and another.

a loud gasp sounds from tsumiki. megumi turns to his dad - who's gaping wide-eyed at his mom now, the man's face whiter than his ugly hair - and smirks. just like the imp the goggles-wearing idiot always calls him at home, despite you repeatedly telling him not to.

gojo looks back at him, shock written on, engraved into his features.

"though i didn't really help you propose, i'm still the ringbearer, right?"

▸ masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fics #jjk imagines #gojo drabbles #gojo fics #gojo imagines #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kit posts 📝

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dreamerschroniclesofstories · 6 months

Text

Goodbye, Tommy Shelby.

A/n: Hey guys, this is my first fic after finishing my previous series, if you haven’t read it then please do and leave a like or any opinions. It’s all appreciated!. Also, I recommend listening to ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine whilst reading since i listen to it whilst writing this x.

I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED ONTO A DIFFERENT SITE OR TO BE TRANSLATED.

Summary: Amelia has been in love with Tommy since she was 17.Today’s tommy's wedding day and Amelia can’t cope.

Word count: 1,575

Ada always told Amelia that there were “plenty of other fish in the sea” and she could do better than her brother, Tommy Shelby but Amelia had her doubts. The idea that there is someone else out there for her was ridiculous. If there were then why had she wasted twelve years of her life loving Tommy Shelby.

It’s to late now, Tommy was getting married and Amelia still felt like the seventeen year old in her room giggling about how Tommy smiled at her. The lead up to the wedding was the worst, every time someone spoke about how beautiful the wedding will be or how Tommy and Grace look more in love as the days pass would cause her heart to feel like, at any minute, it would crawl up her throat and jump onto the floor to be crushed by the passing carriages in the streets or even by the drunken’s getting thrown out of the garrison after closing time.

She knew she was being stupid, she was 29 and still pining over a man who clearly didn’t feel the same emotions she felt for him. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop loving him. The day before the wedding, Amelia decided she couldn't stay in Birmingham any longer. she would leave after the wedding, maybe go to London or even go to new York, she didn't care where, just a place that Tommy Shelby isn't.

Tommy's wedding day.

Amelia hadn't slept the night before, every-time she would try to sleep and close her eyes, all she could see if Tommy's' face, which in turn caused her to silently sob knowing she had lost the man she loved so dearly. She decided to write a letter to Tommy, to give him after the wedding. Confessing her love.

Four hours.

Four hours until Tommy gets married. Amelia was sat at her small kitchen table, holding her freshly brewed tea whilst Ada walks around talking about something that Amelia wasn't listening too. Amelia stared into the dark gloomy depths of her drink, slowly sinking into her sadness as the minutes pass. Ada had placed a plate full of bacon, eggs and sausage, stating that it would be a long day but Amelia couldn't get herself to eat anything, if she does she knew she would bring it back up anyway.

Ada stops her frantic movements when she realises that Amelia hadn't eaten or moved since she sat down “ it will be alright Mia” she whispers reassuringly. Using her nickname given to her by the Shelby family.

Amelia looks towards Ada, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly “ yeah, hopefully” the brokenhearted woman murmured.

Two hours.

Two hours until Amelia leaves, everyone had arrived at Tommy's' house threes hours before the wedding, needing to help set up the rest of the decorations before the wedding had to start. Amelia had been at the house for nearly an hour and she hadn't said a word. Every-time Tommy goes to talk to her, she quickly leaves, pretending that she was going for a smoke break or going to find the toilet. She knew that if she spoke a word to Tommy, she would break down right there, in front of him and in front of the guests that were arriving.

Amelia was stood by the fountain outside of tommys house, holding a cigarette between her lips as she watched the water flowing into the small concrete pond that surrounds it. Amelia was wearing one of her nicest dresses, she had it kept in the back of her wardrobe for special occasions. The gorgeous deep blue garment was embroidered with sliver sequins, though the dress was formal, there was a merriment in its nature and beautiful folds, making it easy for one to run but also to waltz. Amelia knew it was the perfect dress to wear for when she runs off before anyone sees. She didn't want the dress to stop her.

Amelia was in a trance like state, staring at the water. She failed to notice Polly walking over to her. She knew Polly wasn't stupid, Amelia knew Polly knows about her feelings for Tommy. Amelia jumps slightly when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“ you'll catch a fever if you stay out here” the older woman warns.

“ i prefer to be here then in there” Amelia admits, taking a puff of her cigarette then slowly blows out the smoke “ its very overwhelming with everyone rushing around” she quickly covers herself.

Polly lights her own cigarette and raises an eyebrow at Amelia “ if it was my choice, i would want Tommy to marry you instead of grace” she confessed.

Amelia sighs, her eyes glossing as the tears in her soul become tears in her eyes “ it wasn't meant to be pol” she whispers, her voice quivering. She takes a deep breath as she glances at Polly, the waterline of her eyes threatening to spill out, she knew she had to tell Polly she was leaving, since Polly had treated her like a daughter since the day Ada brought her over for tea for the first time.

“ whats on your mind?” the older woman quizzed, holding her cigarette between her fingers, her dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Amelia chuckles and shakes her head, around Polly you can't keep a secret because she'll know automatically “ i'm leaving pol, after the wedding”

it's time

Its time for Amelia to watch as her life collapses, its time she had to sit in the crowd and pretend her heart wasn't shattering into a million pieces as if her heart was made of glass. She was sat in the second to front row with Polly, Ada, Ada's son and Michael.

The wedding had started half an hour ago and for that thirty minutes her tears came freely, like an overflowed storm drain. Luckily, the people around here wouldn't think differently then her being happy for the couple. However, Polly and Ada knew differently.

As the priest announces the newly wed husband and wife, the Shelby brothers and graces family surround the couple. Amelia knew this was the time she had to leave, she looks around to make sure no one was watching, once she knew it was safe she turns around and walks towards the double doors leading to the corridor. She turns her head and glumly smiles, seeing the smile on Tommy's face. She was happy for him, he deserved to be happy.

As Amelia walks outside, the air hits her face, the tip of her nose immediately turning red. Amelia wraps her arms around herself as she begins to rush towards the carriage that was awaiting her with her bags. Her fingers ached in the bitter winter wind, as she clenched and unclenched them trying to keeping an feelings in the tips. As she climbs into the carriage, she looks out through the window noticing Ada and Polly outside watching her, she waves slowly as the carriage leaves.

Once the carriage disappeared, Polly stomps out her cigarette then turns around, walking back into the house, on a mission to find Tommy. Once, Polly found him, she wraps her hand around his wrist “ Thomas come with me” she whispers, taking him to his office.

Tommy's office.

Polly closes the door as Tommy walks over to his desk whilst putting a cigarette between his lips “ what is it pol, ey?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Polly walks over to his desk, picking up the envelope from the oak desk “ Amelia has left, this is for you” Polly explains, walking back over to the door “ you are stupid Thomas, if you didn't see it” Polly utters, leaving Tommy's office quietly, leaving Tommy alone.

Tommy sits down at his desk, immediately opening the letter, leaning back in his seat as he begins to read the handwritten letter.

Dear Tommy,

As i sit here, the night before you get married to someone who is not me, My heart is breaking because i love you Tommy. I love you with every fibre, every cell, every pore of my whole body. I love you, every good part and every bad part of you. It's been such an amazing journey since we first met, but our journey has come to an end. I hope you and grace get the life you are hoping for. How can i put into words something I've never experienced before until recently. i'm dead Tommy, yet very much still alive. You have allowed me to see the power of love, from point A to point Z. I want you to be happy Tommy, have someone experiencing that smile you keep locked away. I don't regret anything that I've felt for you. However, There is one thing i wish you could have seen, it's the things i did for love. For you. Letting you go is forever the hardest thing i'll do in my life but i want you to know you are the most amazing person, the only person i'll truly love with my whole heart.

I know you don't love me, i'm sorry i fell in love with you. i'm sorry i had to leave on the happiest day of your life. You deserve more. i'll hold these last twelve years so damn tight in my heart. I just hope you will too.

Goodbye, Thomas Shelby.

A/N: Well that was an emotional journey wasn't it? i hope you enjoyed this fic. Leave a like, comment , re-blog. Its all appreciated so much xx

#peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders masterlist #peaky blinders fandom #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fic

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reignessance · 1 year

Text

my very first post hi hi hi!

stray kids & enhypen fic recs! will update regularly :)

fluff = (f), angst = (a), suggestive = (sg), mature = (m)

skz:

bang chan:

one more month - by: @/soobnny (f)

the wedding and the morning after - by: @/astraystayyh (f)

love lessons - by: @/thevampywolf (a) (f)

giggle box - by: @/dearestaussiechannie (f)

saviour - by: @/jl-micasea-fics (a) (f) (m)

myth - by: @/astraystayyh (f)

pieces of you - by: @/astraystayyh (f) (a)

lee know:

invisible thread - invisible thread ii - by: @/astraystayyh (a) (f)

soulmates (theoretically) - by: @/caseiloveu (a) (f)

road trip - by: @/caseiloveu (a) (f)

as much as you’ve waited, i’ll hug you with my whole body - by: @/wooahaes (f)

americano - by: @/hanjisick (f) (sg)

winter wind - by: @/soobnny (f)

who would've thought i'd get you - by: @/in2heartz (f)

ice cream ft. seungmin - by: @/gimmeurtmi (f) (sg)

do you feel my hand? it is there - by: @/blossomwritesthings (a) (f) (m)

kiss me - by: @/soobnny (f) (sg)

a sun and a moon - by: @/astraystayyh (a) (f)

conversations with minho - by: @/astraystayyh (f)

just you - by: @/hyuniyz (f) (sg)

a pillow in between - by: @/starlostseungmin (a) (f) (m)

lost in translation - by: @/moonjxsung (f) (a) (m)

changbin:

paris - by: @/inniejeonginnie (f)

drunk in love - by: @/soobnny (f)

hyunjin:

all for nothing - by: @/hyunfilms (f) (a) (m)

summer strike - by: @/soobnny (a) (f)

snow on the beach - by: @/astraystayyh (f)

a memory kept forever - by: @/soobnny (f)

alone with you - by: @/inniejeonginnie (f)

young and beautiful - @/astraystayyh (f)

muddy water - by: @/j-0ne25 (a) (f) (m)

see me at my worst - by: @/starrgaziinggg (f)

don't let me go - by: @/miel-ji (f)

evermore - by: @/staytheword (f) (a) (m)

midnight rain in paris - by: @/starlostseungmin (a) (f)

han:

meet odd - by: @/soobnny (f) (sg)

don't be a stranger (part 2 of meet odd but can be also read as a standalone) - by: @/soobnny (f) (sg)

alien - by: @/j-0ne25 (a) (f) (m)

5 + 1 - by: @/seospicybin (m) (f)

volcano - by: @/astraystayyh (a) (f)

captain save-a-hoe - by: @/hyunsvngs (f) (m)

reckless convictions - by: @/moonjxsung (f) (a) (m)

felix:

wedding cake samples - by: @/caseiloveu (f)

cookie taste tester (part 2 of wedding cake samples but can be also read as a standalone) - by: @/caseiloveu (f)

its always been you - by: @/cb97breathing (a) (f) (m)

care for you - by: @/inniejeonginnie (a) (f)

when it rains it pours - by: @/soobnny (a) (f)

karaoke kisses - by: @/jae-bummer (f)

soulmates - by: @/writingpei (a) (f)

all i ever wanted - by: @/miel-ji (f) (a)

if the world was ending - by: @/astraystayyh (a) (f)

lifetimes - by: @/forlix (f)

awake the red rose - by: @/starlostseungmin (a) (f)

seungmin:

eighteen - by: @/soobnny (f) (a)

i hate that man - by: @/soobnny (f) (a)

interrupted - by: @/yongbokkari (a) (f)

spider-min - by: @/caseiloveu (f)

ice cream ft. lee know - by: @/gimmeurtmi (f) (sg)

puppy on puppy violence - by: @/gimmeurtmi (f)

empyrean prince cascades - by: @/starlostseungmin (a) (f)

ten things kim seungmin says when he thinks you're asleep - by: @/soobnny (a) (f)

in my dreams - by: @/astraystayyh (f)

guess i'm in love - by: @/taeminsung (f)

home run - by: @/latteseungs (f)

candle on the window sill - by: @/starlostseungmin (a) (f)

as the train passes by - by: @/starlostseungmin (f)

jeongin:

imagine a world like that - by: @/soobnny (a)

you're sexy i'm sexy - by: @/astraystayyh (f) (sg)

ot8:

taking care of drunk skz - by: @/miel-ji (f)

bf!skz accidentally reveals your relationship during a live - by: @/lixie-phoria (f)

where are you? - by: @/flwrseung (f)

skz and the lipstick stain trend by: @/seungisms (f)

skz random texts - by: @/lixie-phoria (f)

i love you! (with rizz) - by: @/lixie-phoria (f)

pranking bf!skz - by: @/lixie-phoria (f)

stray kids song series - by: @/astraystayyh (f) (a)

waiting for us - by: @/kkami-writes (f) (a) (m)

little moments I II III - by: @/ccawz (f)

i wish you’d just care about me I ll - by: @/oddinarylani (a) (f)

winter falls- by: @/astraystayyh & @/forlix (f) (a) (m)

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yurayura-kurage · 9 months

Text

A3! Troupe Event: MY WORST WEDDING | Event Story Translation (7/11)

Neither Japanese nor English is my first language so please forgive me if I made mistake. However, feel free to point me out, I’d love to hear your feedbacks on the translation ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Translation under the cut

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Sakyo: I’m home

Azami: …

Sakyo: You still awake? If you’ve finished your homework then go to bed early.

Azami: I’ve something to talk about.

Sakyo: Huh?

Azami: Actually, I met your mother with Juza-san today.

Sakyo: My mother? Why did you come all the way to…

Azami: About what your sister said the other day, I just wondered how she really feels, so I came to ask her in person.

Sakyo: That’s none of your business.

Azami: Anyway, after listening to her story today, there was no doubt that she wanted to wear a dress. However, it seems like she couldn’t take a step forward since dresses don’t suit her now.

Sakyo: That’s exactly what Miyako said.

Azami: But when I did some research, there are people wearing wedding dresses regardless of their ages these days… There seems to be calm dresses that will suit a wide range of ages.

Yuki-san gave me lots of advice, and when I finally met her, I even thought about the hair makeup for her which would go well with the dress.

Sakyo: Even Rurikawa got involved in this, huh. Why do you go that far for someone you have nothing to do with…

Azami: If it’s about connection, then I also have one. I owe Sakyo’s mother a debt of thanks. I was supposed to tell her today, but somehow I couldn’t say a word.

Sakyo: Indebted you mean…

Azami: The Jin-gi-oh cards. That was originally her idea, wasn’t it.

Sakyo: It was but… You don’t need to go that far just to help others be filial to their parents.

Azami: ‘Cuz I can’t show filial piety to my mother anymore.

Sakyo: ––

Azami: Well, that can’t be helped ‘cuz I was small at that time, but if possible, I still wanted to be more filial to my mother who gave me the motivation to pursue my dream of becoming a makeup artist.

‘Bout that, I’ll do something for my dad… some days. But after all, even if it’s not me, I’m bothered that it’d be bad if someday you wake up and realize you miss the chance to show your filial piety.

I know I’m being too fussed over though. It’s not like I’m Sakyo in the first place.

Sakyo: You don’t need to say such things. But… Well, I think I’m grateful for Bon's feelings.

Azami: How ‘bout you? Are you sure you don’t wanna do anything?

Sakyo: I… That’s because my filial piety has always been going nowhere. I told you before. It’s a story about the Jin-gi-oh cards, the popular card game when I was in elementary school.

After regretting spending my precious allowance on a pack of cards, I was eager to save up for my mother’s present next time.

And then, on her next birthday, I gave her a hair tie with flower corsage as a birthday present. It didn’t cost much, but it was sparkling, and it looked stylish to me at that time.

My mother always wished the best for me and didn’t even care about herself, so I was wondering what if she tried dressing up once in a while.

Because she often tied her hair up when doing housework, I thought my present was just the right fit.

My mother was surprised and delighted when receiving my present, but then she kept it tucked away as she said it’d be a waste if it was accidentally ripped.

“Such a beautiful thing like this doesn’t suit me, so I’ll sometimes take it out to gaze at as my treasure”, she smiled and told me.

I understood that she treasured my present, but I regretted not choosing something more practical.

…Even if I try to be filial, it just doesn’t work.

Azami: So you’re gonna give up this time too?

Sakyo: …I didn’t say that. It’s just that we need a strategy that takes that person’s personality into account.

Azami: Personality?

Sakyo: First of all, always thinks it’s a waste to buy things.

Azami: Isn’t she just like Sakyo.

Sakyo: When it comes to buying replacements or buying something new, or to be short - spending money, she always hesitates.

Azami: That’s Sakyo.

Sakyo: Think of her as three times more stubborn than me.

Azami: A super ultra hard one to deal with…

Sakyo: That’s why asking for her agreement on this matter is difficult to begin with. It’s like when you guys ask me to rent a cruise ship for celebrating my birthday with a big party.

Azami: It’s impossible.

Sakyo: However, I don’t think my mother would like to turn down Miyako’s wish. That’s why the only way here is to cooperate with my step-father and make it a surprise on their wedding anniversary.

Well, even if it’s possible to take her to the venue on that day, she might still be reluctant. At that time, I want to respect her wish and cancel the celebration.

Azami: I think it’s good. It’s just a wedding photoshoot, but isn’t it better to also have some attendees?

Sakyo: I wonder. There’ll be no matter if it’s just taking photos for my parents but…

Azami: …

Sakyo’s mother is a fan of Autumn Troupe right?

Sakyo: Aah.

Azami: Then let’s get them all to join this plan.

*Shifts to car*

Sakyo’s mother: Will I get my hair makeup done there?

Miyako: Yes. They’ve prepared our costumes too so you don’t need to worry.

Sakyo’s mother: Somehow I feel bad receiving such perfect service like this…

Miyako: It’s that kind of package, so you don’t need to worry.

Sakyo’s stepfather: That’s right. It’s for our special wedding anniversary after all.

Sakyo’s mother: You’re right. Thank you. I’m looking forward to taking family portraits with everyone. Even so, it’s a quite faraway place, isn’t it.

Miyako: I-It is. They have a reputation for their excellent skills.

Sakyo’s mother: Is that so?

Sakyo’s stepfather: I think Sakyo-kun will also be there soon!

*Shifts to venue*

Taichi: Congrats on your wedding anniversary~!

Juza: Congrats.

Sakyo’s mother: Eh?

Omi: Thank you for always taking care of Sakyo-san.

Banri: Thanks.

Sakoda: Everything’s all set!

Sakyo: Thank you, step-father.

Sakyo’s stepfather: I’m glad I could fulfill my role safely.

Sakyo’s mother: Everyone in Autumn Troupe, and the wedding hall…? What on earth is this…?

Sakyo: I’m sorry for deceiving you. With step-father and Miyako’s help, I prepared this place as a surprise.

Miyako: Sorry for surprising you.

Sakyo: Me, Miyako and step-father, we all want to make your wish come true. But I thought we could never persuade you if we didn’t do it this way.

However, in the end, you're still the one who decides.

Sakyo’s mother: Could it be about the dress… I didn’t expect you all to do this for me.

I really appreciate everyone’s feelings for me, but after all, I’m still determined to…

Azami: May I talk to you for a moment?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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#a3! translation #autumn troupe #akigumi #autumn troupe’s 10th play #my worst wedding #my worst wedding translation #act addict actors #sorry for a quite long hiatus (ive been suffering from college life lately)

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ellana-ravenwood · 2 years

Text

Buttslap ?/Batslap ! - Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Synopsis : You’ve had the “bad” habit of slapping your husband’s butt every chance you get since almost as long as you two started dating. And sometimes, it gets you in trouble...

Not me, writing a fic the day before my wedding...Haha, I had time to relax before the big day, and I thought : “what could be better to truly chill, than to write a silly little fanfic ?” This started from an ask, and now we’re here. This is just a story for fun and not to be taken too seriously, one of those stories that exist purely because I told myself : “I mean, why not ?”. I hope you’ll like it nonetheless ! :

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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Habitus

““Man is largely a creature of habits”, said the famous philosopher G. Stanley Hall and...ain’t that the truth ?

It’s nice and stress free, to have habits. To do things a certain way, and to not change that way (as long as it’s effective). To automatically repeat certain actions.

It’s comforting, even soothing, to know that at least, there’s some constant in your life. It’s a feeling of safety, almost.

It’s one of those things you know you can always rely on, you know ?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I will always, ALWAYS, slap my husband’s ass whenever I get the chance.”

There’s a silence in the room, as you end your little speech. Most people are just too stunned to react. What, did THE (Y/N) Wayne just say all that for real ? Or was it a collective hallucination ?

Did you really just climb up the stage at this insanely crowded charity gala, and proudly told everyone that...you enjoyed slapping the famed Bruce Wayne’s butt ?

Well. Yes. Yes, you very much did. Oh dear...

And the worst thing was ? You weren’t even aware of it.

The past week had been quite busy, and stressful, and you did not want to come to this gala, but your position made it so you were kind of obligated to...and therefor, to ease your anxiety about it all, you might’ve drunk a little bit too much champagne (you didn’t need much anyway).

Oopsie.

Now here you were, talking about slapping your husband’s ass, and it being an action that comforted you greatly. How embarrassing. Fortunately, most people were just shocked that you dared to say all that, and would probably think they imagined it all.

Plus, Bruce, being used to your antics, just casually walked on the stage, and just took your hand and dragged you with him before you could continue to speak about how you worshipped your husband’s butt.

Of course, as he took you away, you managed to give his ass a good slap, before turning to everyone else and saying with a big smile : “Soooo satisfyinnnnnnng !!”.

Needless to say, you were mortified the next day, as your husband told you all about it, amused. You did remember doing that, and that it sounded like a GREAT idea on the moment and- oh my God, you hated those galas !

You were expecting the story to be on the headline of all tabloids, but fortunately for you, that day, Penguin’s trial was starting and the “downfall of the Cobblepot” was still more important than “(Y/N) Wayne says husband’s butt is great”...Pheww, crisis averted.

This time.

The first time it happened

Slap !!

Bruce stops in his tracks, and slowly turns around towards you.

“Did you just...Did you just slap my ass ?”

He asks, almost in disbelief, his cheeks slightly tinted of a rosy color that you find just too adorable (although, you’d never tell him that).

“Um, yes ?”

You answer shyly, afraid you went a little too fast. Afraid you offended him. Afraid you were totally out of bound. I mean. You did slap his butt without asking if you could, he didn’t consent, and that was bad...The more you thought of it, the more you were livid. What did you do ? How dare you ? You really just slapped THE Bruce Wayne’s ass, the fearless Batman’s butt cheeks ??? And without asking if you could first, at that ??? Outrageous.

“Im-I’m sorry ! I didn’t mean to- I mean, I did mean to, but I should’n’t have ! I’m sorry ut’s just-”

It’s just you couldn’t help it. What. The man was climbing the stairs in front of you, showing his perfectly shaped butt to you, what else were you supposed to do ?? It was pure instinct.

Here he was, all muscles and shapes in his black dress pants, and suddenly, your hand found itself slapping his backside as if it had a mind of its own !

You were feeling so awkward now, this was what, your third date ? How would you have reacted, if a man did this to you ?

Oh dear. Oh dear. Were you one of those disgusting predator ?? Slapping people’s butt just like that ?

Oh. But not just people. Bruce Wayne’s butt. Only his, had such a power of attraction on your hand. Which didn’t make you feel any better about your action.

You were a little disgusted with yourself, the more you thought about it. And you-

“No don’t apologize ! Please. I-um...I liked it.”

Short silence.

You look at him. He looks at you.

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk slowly rising on your face.

He looks away, embarrassed.

“You did now, didn’t you ?”

“Yes. You can- do it again, if you want.”

“Can I ?”

“Yes.”

Ah. Here was the last barrier to it all : his permission.

He was giving you permission to slap that beautiful, perfect ass. Who were you, to resist him ?

And that’s, when this all thing started.

“A disgusting habit !!”

The kids hate it, of course.

As if the fact their parents weren’t into PDA way too much for their taste, what, their mom just HAD to slap their dad’s ass whenever she could ??

Did you have no self-control ?!

DICK

Dick was eight years old, when he saw you do that for the first time. It was still a time during which you tried to keep your affection for your husband as tamed as possible, especially in front of your boy (as the years went by, you just found it too funny, the way they reacted to the slightest touch of affection between you and Bruce, and you couldn’t help but mess with them).

You slapped his butt, and he turned around smiling and then kissed you

And Dickie, oh, bless that young and innocent little bird...He thought the butt slap was just a way of showing someone you loved them !

Oh, oh the awkward moment when you had to explain to him that no, this was not what it meant, and that he couldn’t just go around slapping everyone’s butt (that kid loved too many people).

That it was only when you “loved-loved” someone, that you could do that.

The boy was horrified, of course. And even to this day, he remembers it. He often said that it was one of his childhood’s greatest trauma (and in a way, that joke helped him relativized his actual trauma).

After that, whenever he would see you slap Bruce’s but, he’d yell : “Go love-love each other somewhere else !”, and you found it so adorable, despite your son being genuinely mad.

Even now, as an adult, he’d still exclaim things like : “Oh please for the love of goooood, get a rooooom !!”, and other : “CONTROL YOURSELF, PARENTS !”

It never ceased to amuse you. Which was definitely not why you kept doing that in front of him, right ? *evil laugh*.

JASON

Jason thought it was funny. Ever since he was a child.

In his mind, you slapping Bruce’s butt was a mark of affection. Was one of your love language. He’d always been more sensitive than others, as to what made each person’s way of loving others special.

It always made him happy, when he saw the both of you giggle together because of it. Jason never needed much, in life. Just people to love, and who loved him back. Just family.

Of course, just like his brothers and sister, he’d get annoyed by your “horny teenager” behavior sometimes. But the butt slapping ? It was never that. It was always clearly just a fun joke between you and Bruce.

Ah, Jason couldn’t help it. If you or his dad smiled ? It was enough for him. He couldn’t be mad, when those he loved were happy. It made him happy, in return.

When he got resurrected, and he felt abandoned by all of you, it was more painful than every thing else. He would’ve rather been tortured by the Joker for a thousand years, than feel this emotion again. All alone, unloved, forgotten...(or at least, so he thought).

When he started to forgive you guys, and he first saw you slap Bruce’s butt after years and years of not seeing something like this...

It made him smile. Unintentionally. Subconsciously.

A big smile. And it warmed his heart. Because-

Because those two still loved each other as if it was their first day together.

Because his parents were happy.

And, because the reason he was so angry at them, was because he loved them so much, that it hurt too strongly to think they abandoned him...

But small moments like this. His mom slapping his dad’s butt when she thought he wasn’t looking. Bruce unable to fight the smile growing on his lips. The look you both exchanged...

Love.

And it just made him happy. As simple as that.

TIM

Tim had decided since a long time that he would just pretend like his parents do not exist when they start to get all lovey dovey.

As a result, you can slap Bruce’s ass right in front of him, or even kiss him, and Tim will just close his eyes, and pretend he’s somewhere else.

The first time he brought Bernard home, Bruce, him and said Bernard were in the kitchen drinking some milkshake when you came in the room.

Tim instantly just turned his head towards his boyfriend, knowing what was going to happen. And sure enough...it did happen.

You said : “hey guys”, to which they all answered “hey” (my love - Bruce / Mom - Tim/ Mrs Wayne - Bernard). You casually walked across the room, gave your husband’s ass a big ol’ slap (he acted as if it never happened), got yourself a smoothie, and then exited the room saying “bye guys”, of course not forgetting to slap his butt once more as you walked passed Bruce, and give him a mandatory kiss on the cheek.

Tim said : “Bye mom”, still not looking in your direction. Bruce said : “bye my love”. And Bernard just stared, obviously stunned by what just happened.

Later on, Tim would just tell him : “Ignore them, trust me, it’s just easier.”, and honestly, Bernard couldn’t help but love that weird family. Never a boring day, with them.

DAMIAN

He will NEVER let his father walk in front of you. You go up flight of stairs ? Either he’ll make sure you get in the front, either he’ll get in the middle of them.

His strategy was to simply not give you a chance to slap Bruce’s ass.

After all, if you always did it “whenever you got a chance”, if he rendered nulle those chances...he could avoid seeing it, right ?

He always managed to get himself between you and his father, to take your hand at the right time, and hug you, so that you’d stop the “slapping motion”.

Bonus ? The fact that he could make his dad almost jealous because that meant that he always managed to redirect your attention on him. The attention that was supposed to be for Bruce, he’d get it with his hugs.

It was sneaky, really. And it always worked.

CASS

Cass was the most radical of them all. Unlike Damian, who would stop you in some clever way, she’d simply stop you unscrupulously. If she saw you approached her father when she was around, she’d just say :

“No.”

And stop you by grabbing (lightly) your wrist. Which always stunned you enough, that you just forgot about the butt slap.

At one point, your only daughter took it upon herself to “train you” to stop doing that when she was around...and literally used a water spray to deter you from slapping your husband’s butt.

Whenever she saw you coming from behind Bruce’s back, she’d spray your face with water, and say “no.”

It worked...for a short while. You didn’t want to embarrass or annoy your kids too much, so if it bothered her that much, you’d just stop.

You’d just stop ?

Oh, but that was underestimating your “manipulation skills”. “No”, ugh ? Well, we’d see about that. After all, you don’t teach new tricks to an old dog.

You over-exaggerated everything. Sighed whenever you saw your husband, staring at his butt, but not doing anything. It came to a point that Cass started to feel guilty, and eventually stopped reacting to you slapping your husband’s butt (well, she’d use the “Tim technique” of looking away, even though she still thought you two were disgusting).

Your plan worked. No more spraying of water, no more “no”, or Cass stopping your wrist...Aaaah, it was almost too easy.

Once, Dick said : “Ah, she got you too, didn’t she ?”, and Cass didn’t quite grasp his words before a long time. When she finally got it, an evening, while laying in bed, she sat up suddenly and exclaimed :

“WHAT THE FUCK !!”

DUKE

Duke..never expect THE Batman to act this way. And even less elegant (Y/N) Wayne that he saw so many time in the papers.

And yet, every chance you got, you’d give your husband’s ass a big slap, and leave definitely pleased with yourself.

How weird.

But to be honest, this wasn’t the weirdest thing Duke found out about that family. And in the end, Batman getting his ass slapped by his wife on a regular basis, was it really that weird ?

Yes. No. Yes. It definitely was.

The incident (you know, worst than that time you publicly admitted you loved slapping your husband’s ass)

“We warned you countless time, mother. It was bound to happen, really. You can only blame yourself.”

It was rare, that Dick would call you “mother”. To be fair, none of them ever did...except when they were sort of disappointed in you. Kind of in the same way you’d call them by their full name when you were mad at them, you know ?

The fact that your eldest just called you “mother” added insult to injury. It wasn’t like your son, to rub salt into the wound. But oh well...You did kind of deserve it.

You definitely had it coming.

But seriously, how could you know ? Those people were sneaky. It was part of their job !

You sighed, looking at the headline of most papers from Gotham, horrified :

“Is (Y/N) Wayne cheating on Bruce Wayne with...BATMAN ????”

“Gosh dang it”, to use an expression often used by a certain man from Smallville.

So what, you can’t even slap your husband’s butt in public now ?? Well..You made a mental note of not doing it in public, anymore. Not when he was wearing the Batman costume, that is.

What happened was : it was 6 am. One of those December mornings during which it was still very dark outside. You were going to an important early meeting, and your family was coming back from a night out patrolling. You thought you’d kiss them goodnight on your way.

How were you supposed to know that a paparazzo was following you that day ? It was so early, what kind of psycho would do that ? Oh..but this was Gotham, of course.

The picture that bastard snatch didn’t leave any doubt : it was clearly you, grabbing with your full hand a piece of Batman’s ass.

Gosh dang it.

How were you going to get out of that one ?

It’s Tim, who suggested you pretend the picture was manipulated. He almost didn’t say anything, because well, yeah, this would serve you right...But also, he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone thinking something ill of his mom.

Bruce took care of the rest.

Using the latest tech available, he actually manipulated the picture to make it look like you were giving something to Batman. And he managed to convince everyone else that the picture of you grabbing his ass was faked.

What would Lucious think, if he knew his hard work was used for that, uh ?

Everyone knew you loved when paparazzi took picture of you grabbing your husband’s ass, because you thought it was funny. So it was easy to pretend as if the paparazzo managed to fake the picture using those.

And then, everyone also knew that Bruce Wayne had a close “work” relationship with Batman, so the fact his wife would give Batman files wasn’t too crazy.

Of course, the fact Gothamites seemed to vow a blind faith into your husband, made the rest easy.

Everyone bought it. Oh, and that paparazzo ? Bruce made sure he wouldn’t be a problem (by giving him many pictures to sell, not by threatening him...at least, not officially).

And that’s how you avoided a HUGE scandal.

But did that incident deter you from slapping your husband’s ass every chance you got ? Absolutely not.

The broken hand

“For the last time Damian, this wasn’t my fault !”

“Oh yeah ? Well you should’n’ve contracted your muscles so much !”

“I-I can’t help it !!”

But nothing Bruce could say would stop his son to glare at him.

“Who need muscles in their ass anyway ????” He’d say, angry that-

That his mom got hurt.

You found it so funny. This situation was hilarious. Like, come on. You had a cast on your hand right now, because you slapped your husband’s ass a little too hard (and that man was made of pure muscles).

Neither Damian nor Bruce thought it was, of course, which made it even funnier.

Damian couldn’t bear any harmed be done to you, and though he knew it was an accident, he couldn’t help be a little mad at his dad.

“Batman works out everything.”

Is what you heard your husband say, once, to Clark (surely, they were fighting about who had more muscles once again...pretty common...Ugh, men).

But it was true, your husband worked out every single muscles in his body. He never skipped “leg day”, and definitely didn’t skip “butt and glute” day.

His ass was hard.

And you broke your hand slapping it.

Come on, it was so fu*king funny !!

Bruce, of course, hated when you were hurt. He always felt ill himself, when you’d get any kind of injuries. But that time ? He couldn’t feel (too) sorry, because oh my god you laughed way too much at your own mistake !

He could’ve gone without your son’s reaction, though...

Bruce had to hear about it for days. Jason and Dick also thought it was so funny (mainly the fact their little brother would keep bringing it up). But none thought it was funnier than you did.

So. Yes. A broken hand. Ah, but did that deter you from slapping your husband’s ass every chance you got ? Absolutely not.

The instagram page

It was a secret.

A secret all of your children knew, of course.

But they pretended they never heard of it, and had the account blocked on their personal insta feed.

Yes. It was a “secret”.

What, you might ask ?

An instagram page, with pictures of your husband’s perfect butt.

An instagram page...ran by you, of course.

Because : “sharing is caring, it’s not fair if I’m the only one who can admire it.”

So, no. You were not about to share him with anyone really. You wouldn’t be the only one admiring it, but you’d stay the sole “batbutt toucher” on this planet (other planets included, actually).

But you loved to brag about him. Plus, you thought it was HILARIOUS to open such an instagram page.

Of course, you were the only who found it funny. But oh well, it was worth it. And those accounts racked quite a bit of followers.

Somewhere on the web, there was also a “BruceWayneThighs” page, and a “BruceWayneJawline” one...Mmm, wondered who made those, eh ?

More effective than Kryptonite

Everyone remembers the absolute SHOCK on his face when Clark first saw you slap Bruce’s butt.

It was at the League’s headquarters, of course. Not long after they discovered that Bruce had kids, AND a wife !!

They were having an important meeting on a world class threat, when you arrived. You had come to bring Batman some lunch (that in itself was quite shocking). And as you were about to leave, you just casually gave him a slap on the butt, and said : “see you tonight hot stuff”, and WHAAAAT ?!

It rendered Clark speechless for a good minute or two. As if he had been hit by a fist made out of green kryptonite. By multiple fists, even.

“Did she just- did she- did- dshe-idshe-ddd-ugh ?”

“Once again, you shine by your uncanny intelligence.” Bruce sarcastically said, annoyed by this reaction. He disliked, when people commented on his relationship (some would say : maybe don’t make it so public ? But then, some learned that it was better to just not upset Batman too much).

Diana almost killed Clark, when she said : “I wouldn’t mind if she slapped my butt.”

Who were those people ?? The mighty Superman was about to have a brain fry, but then he noticed Bruce. Was he...pouting ?

And was it because of Diana’s comment ?

The woman was smirking mischievously, clearly pleased with herself. And the pout on the Batman was growing.

That day, Clark decided to pretend as if nothing happened. On one side, because he couldn’t fathom the Batman getting his ass slapped by his wife, and on the other side, because him and said Batman had just become friends, and he didn’t want to make him pout further by commenting his personal life.

************

Clark never got used to it though.

Over the years, he saw you countless time slap your husband’s butt, but he could never quite register the fact that this was Batman.

Right there.

Batman.

Him.

🦇👨, himself.

Getting his butt slapped (and clearly enjoying it, although he’d never let that comment slip as he didn’t wanna risk Bruce glaring at him).

It was odd. At the same time, it made him more human.

And though Superman would never get used to the idea of you just casually slapping your husband’s ass whenever you got the chance, he never thought it was something that you shouldn’t do (as weird as it sounded).

************

To reassure Bruce, except for Diana who reenacted the “I wish that were me” meme, every single member of the JLA went :��“👁👄👁” when they first saw you do it.

They all got used to it, unlike Clark, but still. It was quite a shock, the first time they witnessed it. It was the way you did it so naturally, and how Bruce didn’t even react, that got them...

Unbeknowst to neither you nor Bruce, they all started to call that habit of yours “the batslap” (and thought they were very clever for their play on words...Butt slap, batslap...Oh yes, there was a reason why Bruce, was considered the smartest)

“I will never stop, you cannot make me stop.”

Over the years, even after many “incidents” and “troubles” born from you slapping Bruce’s butt, it never even once came to your mind to stop doing it.

It became one of those habits that was actually comforting to you. As if you and Bruce could be a normal couple sometimes, with your own little silly “inside jokes”.

Hell, when he was sure no one was around, Bruce would literally put his ass out just for you to slap...because as odd and ridiculous as it could sound, it became one of those thing that made you, you.

The woman he fell in love with.

Whom, even during the worst moments, would be there to cheer him up (and vice versa).

The woman who never hesitated once to slap THE Batman’s butt. THE Bruce Wayne’s ass. How many people like that existed in this world, uh ?

Yes, doing that got you a lot of time in troubles. Got you in delicate situations, in awkward ones, and even, a few time, dangerous ones (you didn’t wanna talk about it).

But never, NEVER would you walk pass your husband without slapping his butt. Nothing could stop you from it. No one could, either. You’d always find a way.

As you said all those years ago, it was as if your hand and his butt were magnetically aligned.

Of course, you’d exaggerate greatly all that matter. You found it funny, really. Besides the fact that you just liked slapping his butt, that is.

And Bruce ? Oh, Bruce wouldn’t have it any other way.

His ass, was yours to slap.

The end.

________________________________________________

Told you, it was gonna be dumb haha. Still had fun writing it. I’m getting married tomorrow, and took advantage of a chill time today before the mayhem to sit down a few minutes and write...I hope you enjoyed this story :). As per usual, comments/reblogs are beyond appreciated <3. Thank you for reading !

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writingforstraykids · 4 months

Text

Pretty Boy- War of Hearts preview

Pairing: Chanlix (mention of Minchan | Minsung | Y/N)

Word Count: 4532

Summary: Watching his best friend and former lover Minho getting married breaks Chan's heart. Leaving the wedding early he gets pulled over for speeding by a surprisingly handsome officer...

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, friends to lovers to friends, minsung is getting married, chan gets a little drunk, bodyguard!chan, officer!felix, mafia boss!minho, smut, sub!felix, dom!chan, strangers to lovers, anxious!min

A/N: Soo I didn't plan on posting anything of the mafia series I've been working on yet but I thought I could use this chapter since it's very Chanlix centered🤭 I hope you guys like the first glimpse at the series (yn at the beginning only here). Hope you like it miu @miuracha 💕💕

You sit down with them, taking Felix’s previous place, and look at Chan curiously. “Now I really wanna know how the two of you met. Felix isn’t usually like this.”

“I wasn’t either,” Chan giggles softly and rubs his face. “Fine, but I won’t tell you all the details,” he giggles, thinking back to the night he met Felix.

Four years ago

Chan watches the newly wedded couple in front of him, keeping up the fake smile he has been wearing for hours. Minho smiles brightly, kissing Jisung for the hundredth time tonight, and pulls him in close as they sway across the dance floor. The golden ring on his hand shines brightly beneath the lights, and so do those beautiful brown eyes he fell in love with all these years ago.

Minho's happiness is his top priority, especially after those last couple of years. Chan stopped counting the nights Minho clung to him in feverish nightmares, searching for him to hold him when he felt like falling apart. Now he's happy with someone else. It shouldn't matter. It should be enough to see him smile again, to be so purely in love and finally feel at peace. It should be, but it isn't.

Chan's heart breaks with every kiss he watches. It shatters with every loving gaze Minho gifts to Jisung and not him. Hearing them exchanging vows and tying the knot was by far the worst moment of his life since he lost his parents. He takes another sip of his drink and presses his lips together tightly, getting a little emotional. He needs to get out of here. Chan pushes himself off his chair and grabs the keys to his motorcycle.

"Channie, hyung," Minho's soft voice stops him, and turning around, he can see them coming toward him. "You're leaving already?"

"I'm not feeling so well, I'm sorry, Min," he lies smoothly.

"Oh no, what's wrong?" he asks worriedly, eyes scanning his body for possible signs of discomfort.

"Nothing, I'll be fine," he waves him off.

"Chan," Minho frowns at him.

"Min, sweetie," Jisung chimes in gently. "Let him go if he needs to rest, you have enough other bodyguards around."

"Yeah, but this is my best friend," Minho argues softly, not knowing how hurtful those two little words are for Chan. Jisung gives him a meaningful glance before excusing himself to go and talk to a friend of his. Minho gives him a quick kiss, and Chan is gone when he turns back around.

Chan races down the stairs of the wedding venue Minho rented and blindly fumbles for his keys as tears burn in his eyes. He reaches his bike and grabs his helmet, hands shaking as he unclasps it.

"Chan!" Minho calls out for him, rushing down the stairs and coming to a halt in front of him. He frowns seeing the tears in his eyes. "Oh, Channie, that bad?" he asks worriedly.

"I'm just feeling really sick right now, that's all," he says quietly, lowering his gaze to the floor.

"Let me drive you home then," he suggests.

"Min, this is your wedding," he argues. "You can't just vanish."

"I can do whatever I want," he snorts.

"Wouldn't be fair to him, would it?" he asks, and Minho's smile falters.

"He'd get it. You're my best friend, and if you feel like shit, it's my responsibility to take care of you."

"No, Minnie, it's my responsibility to take care of you. You're supposed to be in there with your husband-" he chokes on the word and swallows hard.

Minho gently grabs his hand, his ring burning against Chan's skin. "Channie, dear," he says softly. "I just…be careful, okay?"

"Of course," he nods quickly.

"Promise me," Minho asks gently.

"Min," Chan sighs, finally wanting to get away from this.

"Promise me you'll be careful. I couldn't handle it if something happened to you," he says, the grip around his hand growing stronger.

"I promise I'll be fine," he says, carefully easing his hand out of Minho's. He looks up and smiles at him bravely. "Go and have fun, alright?" he asks, and Minho nods hesitantly, searching his eyes.

He watches him climbing onto his bike and grabbing the helmet. He can tell something is very wrong, and he doubts it's what Chan says it is. Chan wouldn't leave his side because of that, he never does. "I love you, you know that right?" he asks timidly, and Chan freezes in his movements for a short moment.

"I love you," Chan answers just as timidly, and his gaze softens a little, meeting Minho's wide, confused eyes. "You look beautiful," he tells him gently, and Minho blushes almost instantly. "Thank you," he whispers.

"Come here," Chan sighs, and Minho steps closer. He hugs him tight and smiles as Minho holds onto him firmly. "You're doing great. I'm proud of you, Minnie," he says softly.

Minho's hold on him tightens. "Please don't go?"

Chan pulls back, cupping his cheek out of reflex. "You'll be fine."

"I feel safer when you're here," he confesses anxiously.

Chan shakes his head firmly, leaning in and planting a short, light kiss on his forehead. "You'll be fine," he whispers, and pulling back, there are tears burning in his eyes all over again.

Minho watches him, stunned, as he puts on the helmet and grabs his keys. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," he promises, putting on his gloves.

"It's you and me against the world, right?" he asks timidly.

Chan feels like laughing at that. Minho just got married to Jisung but still thinks it's them against the rest. "Always, kitten," he says softly before starting the engine.

Minho stands still for a moment as Chan races off and nervously fidgets with his suit. He wonders if Chan would be alright and get home safely. Minho flinches softly as someone wraps their arms around him, hand resting on his chest.

"Hey there," Jisung says gently, kissing his cheek. "You're alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he nods and squeezes his hand, leaning back into him.

"He'll be okay," he tells him soothingly.

"I'm not sure this time," Minho shakes his head, deep in thought.

"He always is, he has to. He'd never leave you here if he didn't think you'd be safe," he points out, and Minho hums agreeingly. "Come on now, we have a party to celebrate," he says, gently pulling him with him.

Chan blinks away his tears, racing down the streets rather aimlessly. He doesn't want to go back home yet, he'll feel even lonelier in that big house without Min there. He has no other place to go, though. His parents are gone, there aren't any siblings, and Minho is all he had his whole life. The only constant variable in his life got ripped away for good. The safe house is over an hour away and full of memories. He can't escape it.

Chan speeds up a little, the wind pulling at his jacket, but he doesn't care. He'll just keep on driving all night and stay away from home for a bit. He notices the red light too late and curses to himself softly, that could've gone very wrong.

A loud siren behind him startles him a little, and glancing back through his mirror, he notices a police car getting closer. "Oh, for fucks sake," he curses and stops at the side of the road.

Felix parks behind him and hops out of the car. "That fucker really got some nerves," he whispers to himself, making his way over. "Excuse me, Sir, you-" he starts and loses track of his thoughts as the guy takes off his helmet. He meets a pair of soft and incredibly sad chocolate orbs he feels like he could drown in if he maintains eye contact for too long. Dark curls frame his face effortlessly, and god, those full lips. A quick glance down his body makes him suspect he's quite fit, and Felix scolds himself for getting all dreamy about a member of the mafia. It must be him.

"Yes, officer?" he asks patiently, resting the helmet on his thigh.

"You, uhm, you were speeding. And you ignored a red light," he tells him, frowning softly at his amused expression.

"I'm aware of that, thank you," he nods.

"That's not a kind reminder," Felix protests softly. "I just pulled you over because -."

"I don't get pulled over," Chan says calmly, and judging by Felix's stunned expression, he has no clue who he's talking to. "Ever heard of Minho Lee?"

Felix's eyes widen and he nods quickly. "Yeah, I did."

"Well, guess what, I'm pretty important to him. So remember this," he says, vaguely waving at himself and the motorcycle. "And don't pull me over again."

"I don't think I can-" he stammers.

Chan sighs heavily and reaches out for him, pushing aside his jacket gently to check the name tag. "Great, another fucking Lee who's ruining my day."

"You ruined that by yourself, Sir. I just reminded you of the law," Felix frowns, almost a little offended.

"The law's debatable," Chan shrugs and squints his eyes at him. He takes in the sight of him in his uniform and has to bite back a smirk, meeting his very confused brown eyes. Dark hair falls around his face, highlighting the freckles on it. He looks cute. " You're new here, aren't you?"

"Actually, I've been living here for my whole-."

"At the police force, darling," Chan huffs, and Felix's eyes widen, a soft blush creeping up his neck. Oh.

"I'm-Yes, I'm new," he nods quickly.

"I can tell," he says and smiles at him fondly. "Still so eager to do things right."

"We should," Felix nods quickly, subconsciously straightening his uniform.

"But they don't. And you won't if you want to survive this job," he nods thoughtfully. "You'll notice soon enough. Try staying away from Han's men, they're horrible to cops."

"Okay," he nods, wondering why the hell he is listening to this crap. "Sir, are you drunk?" he asks after a moment of silence.

Chan laughs out loud, and it's the first time today. "I'm not joking, stay away from the Han family. They're dangerous. It'd be a shame if they'd mess up that pretty face of yours," he says, and Felix's blush deepens. "But to answer your question, yes, I had a little too much."

"Then that's another reason you shouldn't be driving," Felix points out kindly.

"I have to get home somehow," he shrugs, staring up at the sky, slowly changing colors as the sun begins to set.

"You have no one to pick you up?" he asks, feeling pity for him.

"My best friend got married to another guy today. I have no one else," he tells him, not really sure why the fuck he'd be telling that to some random police officer.

"That's why you're drunk and driving so reckless," he hums understandingly. "You're heartbroken, aren't you?"

"What if I was?" he asks and watches him observantly. His brown hair shines beneath the setting sun, eyes sparkle beautifully. Chan can't help but think again about how effortlessly beautiful Officer Lee is.

"Then I'd feel sorry for pulling you over…but on second thought, not really. There's no use putting yourself at risk because someone hasn't found you fitting for themselves," he says very gently, observing Chan's eyes. "Maybe you're not the right person for him, but I'm sure you'll find your missing piece one day."

"Well, thanks for the advice, Officer Lee," he snorts and once more checks him out. Oh, fuck it. "When does your shift end tonight?"

Felix glances at his watch. "In five minutes," he tells him.

"May I take you out for dinner after? Make up for the trouble I caused you?" he asks smoothly, and Felix's eyes widen before he gathers himself quickly again.

"Purely that?" he asks, and Chan raises his eyebrow at him.

"You're bolder than you look," he smirks. "Not really, no."

"Well, then skip the politeness and take what you so clearly want," Felix announces, not without blushing heavily.

Chan sees right through him and nods to himself. "If you let me," he nods reluctantly.

"Please," Felix nods, growing a bit shy. He crosses his arms behind his chest to hide his hands shaking.

Chan looks at him, amused. "I don't know if you're naive or touch starved to get into bed with some stranger, but I'll take it."

"I know very well who you are, Mr. Bahng," he says, and surprise flashes in Chan's eyes. "You're the head bodyguard of Mr. Lee, and that best friend you've been talking about is the very same person. You're in love with your boss."

"Huh," Chan laughs stunned. "And that doesn't stop you from climbing into bed with me?"

"That's what makes it exciting," he corrects him, and Chan smirks.

"I believe your five minutes are over, dear," he says calmly, and Felix hums softly. "Keep up, alright?" he asks, putting his helmet back on.

"You bet," he grins.

Felix gets onto the motorcycle behind him, wrapping his arms around him to steady himself. They decided to park the car back at the police station to avoid raising suspicions, and Chan kept his helmet on as Felix did.

"Hold on tight," Chan tells him, and Felix hums, agreeing. He starts the engine and drives off with him. He knows Minho would be pissed knowing he brought a police officer back home, but he couldn't care less. He just wanted to forget and feel good for a night.

Chan soon parks in front of the mansion and hops off his bike, taking off his helmet. Felix does as well and smiles at him shyly. "Come on in," Chan chuckles and leads the way.

Felix follows him through the front door, looking around curiously. Chan takes the helmet from him and puts it aside, reaching into a small closet drawer next to the door. He pulls out a piece of soft silk and gives him an apologetic smile. "He'd kill me if I'd led you through the house with your eyes open."

"Oh, okay," Felix nods gently, swallowing nervously as Chan steps closer. Their eyes meet, and sparks ignite between them. "Can I kiss you?" he asks politely.

Chan chuckles softly and cups his face, pulling him into a gentle kiss. A soft sound escapes Felix's lips, and he grips Chan's suit jacket, pulling him close. Chan's arm snakes around his waist, and he lets him enjoy that feeling. It has been years since he kissed someone and he only realizes now how much he had missed it.

Felix takes a few steps back, pulling him with him until his back hits the wall. Chan braces himself on the wall, caging him in, and the moment Felix parts his lips to catch his breath, Chan's tongue slides into his mouth. A low groan escapes him as their tongues slide against each other sensually. He reaches up, burying his hand in those thick curls and arches into him. Chan's playing with his hair, pulling at it as he deepens the kiss.

Neither of them notice the front door opening until someone clears their throat. "Channie?"

Chan flinches heavily and pulls back panting, turning to look at him. Minho stands there, still in his wedding suit, and watches him with wide eyes. "Min, you're back already?"

Felix connects the dots and realizes the man in front of them is Minho Lee, one of the most important people in town.

"I-uh, I came to check on you, but you seem to feel fine again," he says, nodding slowly. He looks a little hurt, realizing Chan hasn't felt sick. "So you're…you're not feeling sick?"

"Not anymore," Chan answers, and he isn't even lying. He hasn't been feeling exactly well the whole day, watching the love of his life marrying another man.

"Mhm, okay," Minho nods quietly before his eyes fall onto Felix. "And that is?"

Felix bows gently before him, dark messed-up hair falling into his face. "I'm Officer Felix Lee, Sir," he introduces himself. "It's an honor to meet you."

Minho frowns at him softly. "Not really, there's nothing special about me other than my mother's legacy," he says and looks back at Chan. "Why are you bringing a police officer back home without my permission?"

"Since when am I asking for permission?" Chan gives back and glances at Felix. "Felix and I just met, we've decided to have some fun tonight."

Felix smiles at the way his name rolls off his tongue. "You can cover my eyes now, by the way," he chimes in gently. "I've probably seen too much already."

Chan smiles softly and nods, pulling the silk from his pocket. He steps behind him and soothingly squeezes his shoulder. "Close your eyes, pretty," he says and locks eyes with Minho as he covers Felix's eyes. "Don't you have a husband to get back to?" he asks, more coldly than he intended to.

"I-I guess I do," he nods, not fully understanding why his heart hurts and his stomach cramps with jealousy as he watches Felix. He just got married; for fucks sake, why is he so focused on Chan? "We'll talk about this later, Chan."

"Nothing to talk about, you won't do much different tonight," he shrugs and wraps his arm around Felix's waist, pulling him in. Felix leans back into him, breath hitching as Chan places a kiss just below his ear.

"Why?" Minho asks, barely audibly pointing at Felix. "You're usually not like that."

"You broke my heart, that's why," he says, and Minho's face falls. "It's nothing new, and I won't stand in your way if you're happy with him. But let me deal with my side of emotions the way I prefer."

"I-I'm sorry," he whispers, tears brimming his eyes.

"No, you're not," Chan says quietly. "Because you don't have to." He steps in front of Felix and lifts him up after a gentle warning.

Felix wraps his legs around his waist, arms around his neck, and nudges his nose against Chan's clumsily. He leans to his ear as he plays with the base of his hair. "Need you so bad, Channie hyung," he whispers, not seeing the beautiful smile breaking across Chan's face.

"Don't worry, sunshine, I got you," he gives back lowly and exchanges a last glance with Minho before carrying Felix up the stairs.

"But I am sorry," Minho whispers to himself, anxiously fidgeting with the sleeves of his suit. His chest tightens a little, and he sucks in a sharp breath. He never wanted to hurt Chan like that. Never. Had he been faking to be happy for him for years now?

Chan gently sets Felix down as they reach the corridor to his room, taking the fabric from his eyes. Felix's soft eyes flutter open and meet his. "No wonder you fell for him, he's incredibly handsome up close," Felix states, making Chan chuckle, surprised.

"Stop talking about Min, alright?" he asks gently and cups his face. "He's not important tonight."

Felix nods kindly and fondles down his sides almost hesitantly. "Where's your room?"

"Just over there." Chan gently caresses his cheeks and pulls him into a kiss. Felix's hands rest on his hips as he kisses back fiercely. They get lost in the feeling for another bit before Chan takes the lead and walks them to his room, never breaking apart. Chan kicks the door closed behind them and turns the key, trapping Felix between the door and his body.

"Can I?" Felix asks, reaching for Chan's suit jacket. Chan hums gently, and Felix brushes the jacket off his shoulders, locking eyes with him as he starts opening the buttons of his shirt. Felix hesitantly lets his hands roam his skin once he's done and bites his lower lip hard at the thought of the rest of him. "Fuck," he breathes out, a little stunned, as Chan grabs his neck and pulls him in again.

Chan pushes his thigh between his legs, smirking as Felix's jaw drops. "Feels good, pretty boy?"

"Uhuh," Felix nods dumbly, pressing down against him needily.

"Go on," he encourages him and reaches for the first button of his uniform. "I'll start taking that off for you while you do."

Felix doesn't need a second invitation, grinding down against his thigh with a low groan. He watches as Chan unbuttons his uniform and shivers with need as Chan's fingers brush against his bare skin in the process.

Chan notices and glances at him curiously. "You haven't been touched in a while, have you?"

"Not really," he confesses, blushing heavily. "It's a bit of a weakness of mine," he adds, glancing at him through his lashes.

"How much time do you have?" Chan asks, and Felix swallows audibly.

"For you, all night," he breathes out.

Chan hums softly and picks him up, carrying him to his bed. He lowers Felix into the pillows and climbs onto the bed, hovering over him. "May I make up for the time you missed then?"

"Please do," Felix nods shyly. He watches with interest as Chan gets comfortable between his legs, bracing himself next to his head. His lips plant tiny kisses down his jaw before they land on his neck. Felix melts into the sheets beneath him as Chan starts kissing his neck, leaving small bites all over it, slowly moving down to his collarbone. Sinking his hand into his curls, he whines softly as Chan's lips travel further, tongue lapping at his nipples.

Chan has no idea how long he stays like that, exploring Felix's body with his tongue, teeth, lips, and hands. The man beneath him writhes in the sheets, soft, helpless sounds tumbling from his lips. Chan's face is buried between his thighs by now, having worked up his way both of his legs. Felix's body is littered with reddish marks by now and covered in sweat, worked up from Chan's pleasurable touches. Looking up, he smiles at the sight of him. His dark hair sticks to his face, brown eyes blown with lust, lips swollen and parted. "Enjoying yourself, pretty?"

Felix hums, agreeing, and bites his lip hard as Chan gently eases off his boxers. His head falls back as Chan teasingly licks up his shaft and massages his balls with his hand. "Ch-Chan," he chokes out.

"Get on your hands and knees for me, will you?" he asks, and Felix nods, eager to please him and finally get what he wants. Felix turns around, knees buckling a little. Chan reaches for his bedside table, grabbing a bottle of lube and some condoms for later. He spreads Felix's cheeks with his fingers and licks up between them. A guttural moan falls from Felix's lips at that, pushing back the moment Chan's tongue pushes against his hole. Chan switches between tongue and fingers, working him open slowly. Felix's arms collapse as he locates his prostate, and Chan bites back a moan at the weak sound leaving his lips.

"Channie - stop," he pleads quietly, face buried in the pillow. "Fuck, please," he whimpers.

"What's wrong?" he asks, fingertips brushing against his prostate once again.

"I'm gonna-" Felix squeezes his eyes shut, body shaking as Chan massages his prostate so perfectly. It's too much. Too much after all those teasing and loving touches before, too much after being touched so right after all this time. Felix's body tenses up, and he releases into the sheets beneath him with a weak sound. His face flushes red with embarrassment, and he hides in the pillow. "Fuck, sorry."

Chan leans down, kissing his spine, and shakes his head. "Nothing to be sorry for."

Felix frowns softly and peaks at him timidly. "But I came without asking for permission."

Chan blinks at him, heart melting at the sincere apologetic look on Felix's face. "I told you I'd make up for that time you missed. I wanted you to feel that good."

Felix's blush deepens. "So you're not mad?"

"No," he tells him with a kind smile, and Felix's heart melts. That's a new one.

"I think I'm ready for you now," he tells him with a sheepish smile. "Can I take care of you now?"

"Okay," Chan nods gently and lets Felix guide him onto his back. He watches him curiously as Felix straddles his lap, eyes fluttering as Felix wraps his hand around his so far untouched dick. Felix flicks his thumb over the tip and strokes him a few times before handing him the condom. Once Chan is ready, he pours some lube into his hand, stroking Chan once again and getting into position. Chan's face contorts in pleasure as Felix slowly sinks down on him.

Felix braces himself on his chest, moaning softly as he tries to adjust to his size. He experimentally moves his hips and allows himself to relax and sink down deeper. "Feel so fucking full already," he groans deliciously.

Chan moans, relieved once he's buried fully inside of him, and rests his hands on his hips. "You're okay?" he asks, watching Felix observantly.

"Yeah," he nods, panting a little. "Just need a moment."

"Take your time," he says gently, rubbing his hips soothingly.

"Okay," Felix says to himself, lifting his hips and sinking back down on him after a moment. They both moan at the movement, and Felix repeats it, Chan's hips meeting his this time. He braces himself on his chest and works out a rhythm that feels good for them both. Felix moves eagerly on top of him, moans falling freely from his mouth by now.

Chan beneath him has his head thrown back into the pillow, jaw growing slack at the tightness of Felix around him. After all, it's been a while for him too. "Fuck, Felix," he groans softly.

Felix tries to angle his hips a little differently to hit his prostate but doesn't fully succeed. After a few tries, a frustrated whimper leaves his mouth, and Chan glances up at him.

His breath hitches, seeing tears brimming Felix's eyes, and he has to bite back a groan. Wow, he didn't know he had a thing for that. "You're okay, pretty boy?" he asks gently, and Felix shakes his head, whining softly.

"Need more," he admits, and Chan understands, gently patting his hips.

"Let me help," he says reassuringly, and Felix does, letting him angle his hips a little differently. Chan thrusts up into him, and Felix rewards him with a deep, relieved moan, nails digging into his torso. Chan's eyes roll back at the way Felix clenches around him, moaning obscenely loud and shaking on top of him. "Fucks sake," he breathes out, pounding up into him desperately. Felix slams his hips down against him, their moans growing louder. They chase their high together, pushing each other over the edge soon after. Felix collapses against him, and Chan lazily thrusts up into him still, rubbing his back soothingly.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

After a moment of silence, Felix glances at him with a shy smile. "Again?" Chan kisses him fiercely as an answer, flipping them over in the process. Again.

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@kai-lee08 @atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @galaxycatdrawz @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @sundownimup-1 @aalexyuuuhm

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discopaddock · 1 year

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BIEVRE RIVER - PIERRE GASLY

PAIRING: pierre gasly x fem!reader

GENRE: angst, fluff

NOTE: english isn't my first language so im sorry for any mistakes

WARINGS: sad and heartbroken pierre :(, mentions of crying, google translated french

PART TWO

Pierre never ever had felt in his whole life that ridiculed and betrayed. The love of his life ran away from their wedding, plus with his own cousin. He looked pathetic in front of his friends and family.

It was supposed to be his day, his great day and what? And a dick.

During his great day, he was sitting with tears in his eyes and on face, with McDonald’s and a bottle of Absolut in his hands on the beach by the river Bievre.

He dropped his phone on the floor in the church, probably pulling it down, while he was running away by sacristy with face all in tears.

He had with himself a wallet, bottle of vodka, food, car and Alexander McQueen on himself.

He was feeling woefully, but still he was wealthy and handsome. She didn’t take these from him.

And when he was sitting the next hour, virtually alone on that beach, he heard a voice behind him; small, brokenly and crying a little bit.

“Sorry, mind if I sit here?” Gasly turned around and saw a girl in white shirt and long black skirt with heels and a bottle of wine in one hand and a box from one of the best bakers in Paris in the other. She had red eyes, just like him, which didn’t make him feel better.

“No, no problem” he answered, and she nodded her head in thanks and dropped the shoes on the sand.

“I’m Y/N, by the way” she said, when she finally sat down. Pierre shouldn’t have been ready at that moment for any conversation, but something attracted him to that girl, who just like him had to cry for some reason on that day. So because of that he told her his name. “Sounds nice. What brings you here, Pierre?”

“Ah, putain” he slipped out, when he was thinking for a while in silence. “Ma fiancée s'est enfuie de notre mariage” he said eventually, hoping that she didn’t speak french. Ah, fuck. My fiancée ran away from our wedding.

“Je suis vraiment désolé. Désolé de demander” the girl said quickly, which made Pierre want to hit himself on his forehead. She wasn't stupid. I mean, in his opinion, she didn't look stupid. I’m so sorry. Sorry for asking.

“D'accord. Je suppose que je devais en parler à quelqu'un” he laughed and then took a sip of vodka. “Et qu'est-ce qui vous amène ici?” It’s okay. I guess I had to tell someone. And you, what brings you here?

He was curious. Maybe it was her boyfriend? Or girlfriend. Or completely something else.

“Dure journée de travail” Y/N answered him, looking for something in her bag. A hard day at work.

“Dure journée de travail?” Where do you work?

“A l'Ambassade,” the girl said. In the embassy.

“Alors tu es intelligent” Pierre told, making her laugh. So you are clever.

“J'ai à peine réussi mes examens finaux! Je suis terriblement stupide” she announced and then took a corkscrew out of her purse. I barely graduated! I’m terribly stupid.

Pierre thought that Y/N was cute. Pretty also. Her H/C hair cascaded down her back, and her E/C eyes, freckles on her straight nose, and dimples on both cheeks gave her charm. She definitely wasn’t ugly, that was something he could tell after watching her wrestle with the wine stopper for a while.

“T'aider?” Do you need help?

The girl nodded, then handed him the bottle, taking his vodka from him so that it wouldn't spill.

“Sur quelle chanson étiez-vous censé danser la première danse?” she asked completely out of nowhere, and when she heard the title of Ed Sheeran's most popular song from him, she twisted her mouth in a grimace of disgust. “Oh God! C'est la pire première chanson de danse! Sérieusement? Il n'y en avait pas d'autre?” What song were you supposed to dance your first dance to? This is the worst song for a first dance! Seriously? There was no other?

"Je voulais quelque chose en français, mais elle a choisi Ed," he confessed, pouring wine into the glass she was holding. He had no idea where she got it from, but he liked it. I wanted something in French, but she chose Ed.

“C'est peut-être encore mieux que tu ne l'aies pas épousée. Totalement insipide de sa part," she said, sticking the bottle and glass into the wet sand before opening the box. "Aide-toi." She pushed them under his nose and he took out two yellow macaroons. Maybe it's even better that you didn't marry her. She is literally so tasteless. Help yourself.

“Merci”

Pierre thought that Y/N might have been right, that it was better that he had not married Dulcinea. Yes, she was pretty and he really felt something for her, but he wasn't bad at writing stories either.

"Je suppose que je devrais rentrer à la maison," he said, when the sun had long since sunk below the horizon and both bottles had run out of alcohol. "Mais j'ai perdu mon téléphone quelque part et je n'ai aucun moyen d'appeler Charles," he laughed at his stupidity. Drunk him told her the whole story of his life, but he regretted nothing. I should probably go home. But I lost my phone somewhere and I have no way to call Charles.

Y/N put her phone in front of his face. Already unlocked with a view of the Dune Paul Atreides wallpaper. Or Timothee Chalamet, because he played him in the last film adaptation, after all.

"Entrez l'indicatif régional devant ce long numéro” she announced as he took the smartphone from her. Enter the area code before this long number.

“Quel est l'indicatif de pays de Monaco?” What is the area code for Monaco?

“+377.”

"Comment sais-tu cela?" he asked, typing in his best friend's number. How do you know this?

"Je travaille à l'ambassade, ça doit être clair," she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I work at the Embassy, that's obvious.

About five or seven minutes after Charles answered the phone, he appeared on the beach looking very worried.

“Salut Charles! Tu me manques." Pierre greeted the Monegasque, whose expression changed to a concerned one when he saw Gasly's condition. The Frenchman got up from the sand and hugged Leclerc, who also wrapped his arms around him. He had never felt so sorry for him. And he knew him most of his life and was there when they kicked him out of Red Bull and moved to Toro Rosso. Hey Charles! I miss you.

"Je te suis aussi, Pierre. Je m'inquiétais pour toi" he replied after a moment as they pulled apart. I follow you too, Pierre. I was worried about you.

"Ah j'ai oublié! C'est Y/N. Mon nouvel ami. Y/N, voici Charles, mon meilleur ami” the blue-eyed man rushed towards the girl, dragging Charles with him. The brown haired woman hastily got up and almost spilled her wine from the glass, but she extended her hand towards the newly met man, shifting. Ah, I would forget! This is Y/N. My new friend. Y/N, this is Charles, my best friend.

Leclerc thought that Y/L/N was a really pretty girl. In Pierre's type.

"Comment rentres-tu à la maison, ma douce?" Gasly turned to her as she stowed her things into her rag bag. How are you getting home, sweets?

A red light bulb went off in Charles' head at that moment. His friend never asked his possible mates for one or two nights about transportation home.

“Métro," she replied shortly, and the brunette immediately shook his head. Subway.

“Non non Non! Nous vous conduirons avec Charles. D'accord, Charles?” The green-eyed man only nodded, because that was all he had left. The girl at first did not want to agree, but under Leclerc's pleading eyes she did, because she knew that drunk Pierre would not let her go so easily. No no no! We'll drive you with Charles. Right, Charles?

And so Y/N ended up sitting between Gasly's legs in a black Ferrari 488 Pista Spider. Brunette got his phone in his hands and after seeing it, he said that the next day he would go to the salon to replace the glass.

After a while, he also took a photo of Y/L/N looking out the window and showing her left profile in the frame. Pierre then thought that he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life.

He encouraged the girl to give him her phone number, which she didn't want to do at first because he wouldn't remember her the next day anyway, and Charles was looking at them strangely. I mean, he was looking pityingly at Gasly, not at her. He was the one who felt completely sorry for her being stuck with his friend in this situation.

“C'est mon domaine. Merci beaucoup pour le trajet, Charles," she said finally, and the brunette sighed in dissatisfaction. This is my estate. Thank you very much for the ride, Charles.

"Je te reverrai, n'est-ce pas?" asked the sad Frenchman, not wanting to let go of the brunette from his arms. Leclerc gave Y/N an apologetic look, and she had no option but to agree. We'll see each other again, right?

Y/L/N quickly said goodbye to the men and then got out of the car.

"Je pense que je suis amoureux, Charles," Pierre squealed as he watched the girl enter her cage. The Monegasque slapped him on the back of the head, muttering that he was an idiot. I think I'm in love, Charles.

In the meantime, the girl entered her apartment and leaned against the front door, then sat on the floor, and finally began to sob.

Her roommate, Eszter, heard her crying and immediately went to her best friend. The girl was perfectly aware of her entire afternoon and evening. She may have drunk all the wine herself, but it was almost alcohol-free, so she wasn't drunk at all (unlike Pierre).

"What's wrong, sweets?" Balog asked, crouching beside the younger girl.

“I met a guy whose wife ran away from the wedding and he was drunk as fuck and wanted my number, so I gave it to him, but it was a mistake, because he won't remember me tomorrow anyway. And at work this cunt had a problem with me and I cried and all, I'm fed up, I want to sleep." Esz barely understood anything of her friend's gibberish as she helped her up off the cold floor. She led her into the living room, then sat her down on the couch and gave her tissues.

"He was old and rich, wasn't he?" The brunette knew her platonic soulmate type very well, so she knew what to expect.

“He was maybe ten years older. And definitely rich. He showed me his Ferrari... And his friend who was driving us also had a Ferrari” Y/L/N dreamed, leaning against the back of the sofa. “But his fiancée ran away from the altar. Guess it's not that great. Or she was cheating on him. I don't know, I want to forget about it. Just like he does about me.

But Pierre did not forget. Same as Y/N about him.

#pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly #formula 1 #pg10 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n

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absolutebl · 9 months

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This Week in BL - Cameos & Familiar Faces

Entirely subjective yadda yadda. Organized by favs in each category. No numbered lists anymore, tumblr be buggn'.

End of Aug Start Sept 2023

Ongoing Series - Thai

Laws of Attraction (Sat iQIYI) 8fin - Oh the DRAMA. Why does the insane ex (my true love) remind me of the cartel leader from Romancing the Stone? Even the sides got HEA! It was fucking great!!!!! Charn remains a bonkers spoiled evil murderous brat with a cruel smile beloved by his one true paladin. Also: post it love note trope! Been a long while my old friend. NO SINGING!!!!! I do love that wedding jacket frock coat cape thing Charn wore.

In conclusion: This is a great gay suspense thriller with several solid couples, fun plot, killer characters, queer rep, and a happy ending. Charn may be my favorite lead character of 2023. However, this show is not entirely BL, more on the fringe, like Manner of Death. Add that to several "singing incidents" and pairs being a little weak in the chemistry arena, and this lands safely in 9/10 territory. It’s tons of fun tho: HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Sat grey) ep 3 of 12 - This show is getting more and more lakorn each ep. Apparently the straights are having a class divide arranged marriage crisis. Who cares? Our boy is ALWAYS in trouble. Crazy that he has to save the people who betrayed him in a previous life - but I guess he chose revenge! That's unexpected.

Had to switch to grey and couldn’t find a working rip. It was frustrating and I wouldn’t have bothered except I like this show so much. Still, it means no screen caps because the rez is naff.

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 3 of 12 - Uh oh. Kang wants to save Sailom and be his hero. The fact that K’s Pa puts no pressure on him whatsoever, makes me wonder if K's Ma committed suicide or something? It’s definitely the opposite parental dynamic we normally see in BL. I have to say, the pacing is great in the show. And the acting is on point. It’s really great.

Hidden Agenda (Sun YT) ep 8 of 12 - these two just kiss well. I mean not "rip your clothes off Taiwan-style," but sweet young boyfriends-esk. Joke wants to be claimed so bad. It’s great. I enjoyed this ep, unfortunately it looks like we have a manufactured angst drama drop in the next episode. Is this a 10 episode arc? I thought it was 12. It’s odd to have doom happening next episode already.

Only Friends (Sat YT) ep 4 of 10 - Back story time! Ray and Mew are HARD to watch. Incestuous friend group gay is the worst. Omg I got such QAF vibes from this ep. Nick Boston Sand chats = very throw back 90s gay soaps.

Location game moment: Top's hotel room is also Chan’s apartment in Laws Of Attraction.

Naughty Babe (Sat YT) ep 1 of 8 - Ooo. Est is back! Hi handsome. Head of security suits you. Please lead out the new Waterboyy remake? You’re perfect for the role. (If it must happen.) Yi’s Pa is GREAT. Please give daddy a nice boy? Could that be our secondary couple for this series?

Meanwhile, with the leads (sorry I was distracted by daddy) we got us an arranged marriage, run away bride, and an amnesia trope. Put in a secret baby and it's squarely 1980's Harlequin. Will there be Vikings? Sex herbs? Pirates? Dub con?

Be Mine Super Star (Mon Viki) ep 9 of 12 - Again with lovely sex scenes, it’s just the plot stringing them together is frayed. Also don’t fuck in an onsen. Both yech and ouch.

That goes for all y’all.

Wedding Plan (Wed YT & iQIYI) ep 7fin - Trash watch here! Honestly this was an okay ending, I’m not mad at it. If you can tolerate Mame and liars (kinda the same thing) you’ll be fine with this show.

Summation: An innocent wedding planner falls haplessly and hopelessly in love with a groom who relentlessly pursued him, even though he’s about to marry someone else. A somewhat lackluster mame offering with less of the usual stellar chemistry, but all of the usual lies and manipulation. 7/10

Love in Translation (Sat iQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - I skip everything to do with Tammy and it’s fine. There’s only about 20 minutes of fine but that’s more than enough. On the bright side. So far. No singing.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 24 eps - Cassanova Begins Part 2. Aw. It was sad. Another variation on the “my ghost boyfriend” trope (usually sad). 2/10 I don't do sad BL.

Next up is Merry Go Round featuring the pair from Destiny Seeker (we likey) who want to marry each other, but end up fake engaged to the same woman. Beard squared? Looks silly.

Crazy Handsome Rich (Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - There are 2 things I like about this. I bet you can guess what they are.

Lee Long Shi

The whipping boy trope

There wasn’t enough of either in this first ep. ALSO the captions, sound effects, and voice over are truly next level bad. Utterly atrocious.

The 2 leads fucking around in the end credits was the funniest part of the whole show.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Jun & Jun (Korea Thur Viki) ep 7 of 8 - I am confused and frustrated about what the communication delay is between the two Juns. It feels artificial and narratively manufactured. But since this is a short form KBL and I know it will be resolved quickly, I’m not as annoyed as I would be if this were Thai BL. Still it feels audience manipulative. I also feel sorry for Simon. BUT it looks like it’ll be a sweet boyfriends final episode.

Stay By My Side (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 10fin - Omg they’re so cute!!! Taiwan the purveyors of ultimate sappy gay domesticity. I am going to miss having these to nonsencing all over my dash.

This show was an interesting take on the "ghost boyfriend" trope. About a boy who is tormented by hearing the dead, except when he is around one other boy - desperation+proximity = love. Unfortunately, the story was erratic and waffled about. While the leads turned in solid performances and the sappy domesticity was off the charts, it never really had the strength of the narrative convictions such a strong concept should have supplied. Highly rewatchable and enjoyable for that sappy domesticity but not a whole lot more. Still I always give extra credit for the diabetes-inducing sugar content and rewatch capacity. 8/10

Kisseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) eps 3 of 13(?) - I love the punching thing - there is a lot of violent flirting in this show. I’m not mad about it. Ugh, poor thing has real abandonment issues. And now trust issues. I see why we’re getting 12-14 eps. This gonna be MESSY.

Meanwhile, does EVERYONE have a guest cameo? Not that I’m complaining. Hi BLIHID boys! Now I need to rewatch that show.

Love Class Season 2 (Korea Fri Viki) eps 7-8 of 10 - Oh my God the next morning w/ couple 2 was so darn cute. They are all such terrible flirts with each other. Honestly, this show makes me laugh more than any other BL currently airing. I’m not sure it is meant to be as funny as I find it. While couple 3 (the mature characters) is by far my favorite, I actually think they don’t work with the other two pairs, they feel superfluous to the show. I like the show better because they’re in it, but it feels like two different BL‘s stuck together. KBL certainly can’t handle more than two couple threads at the same time.

Why R U? (Korea Wed iQIYI) eps 3-4 of 8 - Ugh. I am such a sucker for the FighterTutor dynamic. Why so good? Uh oh. Real kiss! KBL you're spoiling us. But, isn’t sad-seme-hyung dating some chick? Argh. Poor Sunwoo. This show is even worse at repping Fighter's character sympathetically. Who knew that was possible?

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 3 of 8 - The date episode! Even Japan is doing it now. And these two who have been living/fucking together for ages still dance around each other like junior high kids. I gotta say, I watch this one twice because Vicki has different subs from Gaga. I feel like it’s easier to understand if I watch two different translations of the same script. But it’s still quite a taciturn piece.

Minato's Laundromat Season 2 AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 (Japan Thu Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - Sides are great. It was mostly a cute ep with tiny bits of Progress and a proper Confession. I miss Shin’s siblings. And then… the much loathed amnesia trope. Really?

Everyone say it with me: Must you, Japan?

Stay Still (Hong Kong Tues YouTube) ep 5fin - It ended happier than I was expecting. Optimistic for one couple, and most likely optimistic for the other.

Summation: What to say about this offering from Hong Kong? It’s different, a mix of early CBL, Taiwanese shorts, and Pinoy visuals. It felt like the story was 2 independent shorts that had been lengthen and then stuck together, and I wish they'd been approached as separate and tighter entities. Nevertheless, this was a complex little piece, interesting in a sweaty grungy way, with a certain aura of queer authenticity that made it simultaneously tense, unpredictable, and refreshing. I’m not sure I would necessarily call it BL, but any county’s early foray into the genre usually starts out this way, so perhaps nascent BL? Worth watching, especially if you enjoy stuff from the Philippines and Taiwan. 7/10