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sometimesanalice · 25 days ago

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Dream a Little Dream

Summary: After a long week away in Lemoore, all Bradley wants to do is come home to you. The only thing is, you’re just not where he expects to find you.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: so much fluff and a truly smitten Bradley Bradshaw (mdni)

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley throws his head back and lets out low groan as he hits another red light.

Nothing in the past week he’d spent up in Lemoore had felt as long as this drive home from base.

Not the stuffy dinner with the higher ups that had Mav and him exchanging looks from across the table, both of them clearly wishing to be anywhere else than done up in their Dress Whites. Not the long nights sharing a room with Hangman, who snored louder than the multiple phone alarms that he’d kept snoozing instead of turning off, as if the scratchy Navy provided sheets weren’t bad enough on their own. Not the drills or the lectures or the reviewing of the new procedural guidelines or equipment requirements with the crew stationed up there.

He'd felt the all the tension that had been building up over the week melt off of him the moment he’d turned the key in the ignition- the engine to the Bronco rumbling to life after a week of sitting on a parking lot on North Island- knowing that he was finally on his way home.

Technically, he was on his way to your apartment. But it was the same difference to him.

Wherever you were was where he wanted to be.

That was home. You were home.

Minus the fact that the San Diego traffic controllers seemed to have it out for him.

He thought for a moment he’d make it to your place in record time considering that there weren’t many people on the road a 2am. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the radio on, but even 105.3 THE ROCK where hits go to die would be preferable to the way he was agitatedly drumming his thumb on the steering wheel. But he was stubborn and now he left it off out of spite when his drive became a game of ‘How Many Times Will Rooster Hit The Red’.

It had been more stop than go at this point.

“Finally,” Bradley mumbles to himself when the light turns green and shifts out of neutral into first.

When Jake had dropped him off at base after their five-hour road trip back to San Diego, he’d decided to suck it up and stick around to get some of the paperwork that he’d been putting off out of the way so that he could enjoy the days off he had lined up after the trip. He might have lost track of time and caught a second wind filling out flight logs with only the whir of the overhead fluorescents to keep him company, working until he reached the point where he felt like he couldn’t keep his eyes opened anymore. His eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute he stayed seated at the desk he’d commandeered to work at.

It had been a week of sleeping like shit. And not just because of the creaky, lumpy mattress or Hangman’s snoring. But because he’d gotten used to your soft, warm body pressed against his and the sound of your gentle breathing to lull him to sleep. He’d had a taste of what true luxury was like and now it was hard to go back to the bare minimum he’d known before.

He’d known even before he’d left the building that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep unless you were tucked against him. He’d barely slept 300 miles away from you, but it would have been even worse to go back to his condo knowing you were closer than ever and yet still so far.

Being in the same city wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be under the same roof, under the same covers.

Four red lights later, he’s turning onto your block. By some kind of miracle there’s an open spot big enough for the Bronco near the main entry without him having to maneuver into it with too much effort. It’s another reason why he’s dying to have you move in with him, the parking at your apartment complex is trash. And there are never enough guest spots, even with the parking pass he kept in his glove box.

Bradley lets himself in to your apartment as quietly as he can, opening the door slowly as to not wake you. The spare key you’d given him when you’d first moved here had lived on his own set of keys for the last couple of years, along with the fighter jet keychain you’d picked up for him when the two of you were teens during a family trip to Pensacola as thanks for looking after your hermit crabs. Even if one of them did lose a claw on his watch, which he’d felt guilty about for days, until you told him it would most likely grow back.

He’d never had a lot to be sentimental about, but that keychain with the charm whose silver finish had long been worn off around the edges was one of the few things that had been everywhere with him, so it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

He gingerly sets the key on the console table you had near the front door, trying to keep them from clattering together. Carefully, he toes his boots off and sets his bag down next to them, making sure to keep it off the runner you had in the entryway. He knew you wouldn’t care if he tracked in some dirt on it, but he did.

One of the things he’s always liked about your apartment is how lived in it was.

Even in the dark, Bradley could make out the ruffly curtains you’d hung up over the door to your balcony. And the impressive gallery wall that framed your TV, one that was a mix of your own photos and art that you’ve accumulated along the way. There were more pillows than he thought was necessary on your couch, but made for one of his favorite afternoon nap spots. You usually had fresh flowers on your coffee table, the ones there now from what he could tell looked a little wilted, so he made a note to pick you up something from the shop next to the grocery store when he goes out to restock his fridge.

He lightly treads past your kitchen- and the two different types of coffee makers you had lined up on the countertop- towards your bedroom.

Bradley could already see it in his mind’s eye. The curve of the dip of your waist as you slept under your white comforter with the light blue piping along the edges. Always with a foot kicked out. The framed picture of the two of you on your nightstand. The chair in the corner where your pile of folded-and-to-be-put-away-later clean clothes sat. Your dresser topped with some leafy green thing and your tray of jewelry, where you’d cleared out not one but three drawers - which was a whole half of wooden unit he’d helped you build when you first moved in- for him to use for his things. Not to mention space in your closest too and room on the shoe rack you kept in there.

It was more than what he needed, but that was you. You’d always been the type to go above and beyond for the people you cared about. But now it meant more because you weren’t just sharing your space with him, you were sharing your life with him.

The blinds aren’t pulled closed, so your room is illumined with more city light than he was expecting. And he can see with clarity that everything is in its place.

The picture of him kissing your cheek- your nose scrunched up in that way he knows so well- in the grassy park where you’d surprised him with a showing of one of his favorite movies on one of your first dates together. The white linen covered chair with your clothes had an old sweatshirt of his tossed over the back of it that he knows if he were to pick it up would smell more like you than him. The plant in the white ceramic vase on your dresser was one you’d bought at the farmer’s market almost two years ago now to commemorate your big move there, you’d proudly carried it around for the rest of the morning while he’d carried your ever-growing collection of bags.

Everything right where it should be, except for you.

Your bed is perfectly made up. Well, the side he usually sleeps on is. The are corners still tucked in with the same crisp precision you use to wrap presents. The right side, however, looks like the comforter and sheets were hastily thrown back, a rumpled pile of fabric in the spot where he thought you’d be sleeping.

There’s only one other place where you would be.

Bradley doesn’t even try to quiet his steps as he struts back towards the door with a new destination in mind. He shoves his feet back into his boots, not bothering to retie his laces, as he scoops his keys out of the little bowl he’d just put them in barely even five minutes ago. Only slowing down long enough to make sure he’s properly locked the door behind him before he’s back in the Bronco for the second time that night.

This time the drive feels like nothing. Especially since he hits green lights all the way there.

His lips turn up in an automatic smile when he sees your all-too-practical white Honda Civic parked in the drive way of his condo. He doesn’t think he could find the words to describe the feeling that wells up in his chest at the sight of it.

It just felt right.

Bradley lets himself in, using his own key this time.

His condo had always felt more like a place to land, rather than a home. Over the last few months though that feeling has changed for him.

For Bradley’s whole life things have felt temporary. The people he met. The things he owned. The bases he lived on. You made him crave permanence in a way he’d never experienced before. The two of you had a couple decades worth of history, but he knew he couldn’t be truly content until his ring was on your finger and you shared his last name.

He can see your fingerprints in this space from the knit blanket draped on his couch to the framed print on the wall over the breakfast nook. He can see the promise of a future together in the fancier-than-he’s-used-to coffee maker on the kitchen counter.

It’s quiet, but not the empty kind.

The light above the stove is turned on illuminating the kitchen.

That was usually his final task of the night before going to bed. Flicking off the brighter overheads in exchange for the softer one that gave him just enough light to avoid crashing into things in the darkness if he woke up in the middle of the night and was on the hunt for something to eat or drink while still half-asleep.

Although it hits him now that he can’t remember the last time he’s turned it on himself.

It was something he’d noticed that you didn’t do at your own apartment when the two of you had first started sleeping together. But now if he thinks back on it, every glass of cool water out of the filtering pitcher you kept in the fridge and every bowl of late-night cereal he’s had that little light has been on to guide him into the kitchen while you slept peacefully in bed.

It’s a realization that lands squarely behind his ribcage.

Bradley kicks his boots off next to your sandals by the door and turns the lock back into place behind him. Normally, he’d take them up to be put away in their proper place, but for now he’s got other more important things on his mind.

He takes the stairs two at a time as soundlessly as he can, avoiding the step that sometimes pops. The first door on the left has been left slightly ajar, just wide enough for him to slip into.

there you are, his heart registers before his eyes do.

Tucked under the green comforter- with that one foot kicked out- on the wooden canopy bed he’d recently purchased is you.

He couldn’t fight back the smile on his face that the sight of you curled up there on his side of the bed, with your face pressed into his pillow, even if he wanted to.

Bradley still doesn’t know how he got to be so lucky that he gets to be the one to see you like this, at complete ease as you sleep, as relaxed in his bed as you are in your own. He’s grateful for every morning he gets to wake up with you and every night he gets to fall asleep with you in his arms.

It’s never been like this for him, not before you. It’s a good thing he’s already told you he loved you, otherwise he doesn’t think he could have been able to hold himself back from waking you up right here and now to tell you.

Quietly, he steps up the side of the bed, taking a moment to admire you looking soft and warm and like everything he could ever want. The few FaceTime calls the two of you had had over the course of the week couldn’t even begin to capture just how beautiful you were. Bradley leans down to brush a featherlight kiss against your temple and straightens back up. You let out a contented hmm, and he hopes you’re dreaming of him.

He’s never needed anything more than to be under those covers with you.

Bradley undresses quickly in the walk-in closet and strips down to his boxer briefs, leaving his khakis to decorate the floor until sometime later when the sun was back up in the sky. Realizing as he takes off his watch that in his rush to get here that he’d left his bag with all his other laundry by the door at your apartment. A grunt of exasperation escapes him, and he’s glad that you’re a deep sleeper and the fact he keeps his baseball bat in the garage. Especially since he’s the one that taught you how to power swing.

The only sound in the room is of your even breaths and his carpet-muffled footsteps as he pads across the room. He lifts up the covers on your side of them bed and slides into the cool sheets, the stiffness in his joints loosening at the contact, and scoots in closer until he can feel your warmth.

He’d been in San Diego for the better part of four hours now, but he hadn’t been truly home until about thirty seconds ago.

Bradley debates for a split-second whether or not to let you sleep or if he should wake you up so you’re not startled to find a 6’ 1” aviator back in bed with you. But he knows you well enough to make an educated guess. He murmurs your name, rubbing a hand gently up and down along your back, and presses his lips together when you let out a soft, sleepy sigh.

You jolt a little as you ease back into consciousness. “B-bradley?”

“It’s just me,” he hums in confirmation as he squeezes your hip, all sleep-warmed skin under his palm. He doesn’t miss the way you relax instantly against him at the sound of his voice, settling further back into him.

“You’re home early.” You reach back for him, your hand finding the base of his head, lightly scratching at his scalp as you weave your fingers through his hair.

“Mav either pulled some strings or took one for the team by staying another day, but we all jumped at the chance to get out of Le-snore early.” You let out a little snort at that.

“’re you hungry?” you offer sleepily, the words a bit slurred and strung together. “Do you want me to make you something?” Bradley is equal parts amused and endeared that you’re not even half way awake yet and wanting to look after him.

His sweet girl.

He presses an affectionate kiss on the back of your neck and wonders if you can feel his soft smile, the one that’s reserved for only you.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder, “I promise.”

He’d snagged a couple protein bars from the mess on base and had scarfed them down as he filled out his overdue flight logs. But also, there was no way he was getting out of this bed now that he was in it. Not for anything in the world.

Bradley leans in close, letting his lips skim against your ear, “You know this could count as breaking and entering, kid. Always knew that good girl thing was just an act.”

You lightly tug on his hair. “I don’t think that would hold up in court of law seeing as you gave me a key and all,” you retort, you voice still low and raspy from sleep.

“I’m pretty sure I gave my best friend a key,” he drawls, teasingly, “Don’t remember giving my girlfriend one though.” He drops a kiss to your soft-cotton covered shoulder. The shirt you were wearing was one he’d completely forgotten about until you sent him that picture of you in bed sometime past 2am in the early days of when you’d started dating, before the two of you had sex for the first time. His name was printed on the back- right at the very top- along with all the other players on the Washington High Cardinals baseball team from the year they’d won the championship. “Think ‘m going to have to fix that.”

You shake your head amused into his pillow before looking at him from over your shoulder and turning to lean back into his chest. When your eyes meet, there’s nothing but fondness reflected in them. Yours is a face he’s known most of his life, he could read you as easily as any book, and it’s even more apparent just a few inches away from his just how happy you are to see him.

He slides a hand around the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek as he drinks you in. His eyes travel over your forehead, and along the curve of your cheekbones, and down the bridge of your nose, and lands on the dimples framing your smile.

thereyouarethereyouare

Bradley dips down to kiss you for the first time in a week. Your lips part easily, like you’ve been waiting for this too. There’s no rush. Your kiss is slow like honey off a spoon. Just as sweet as it’s meant to be savored. And there’s no doubt in his mind that this was always how it was supposed to be.

You and him.

Him and you.

Together.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, warmly.

“Hi, Bradley.” You tilt your head up for another kiss, one he has no intention withholding from you. “I missed you.”

It’s a new feeling for him, knowing he has someone to miss him when he is away. And having someone to miss in return. It’s been a long time since he’s had that in any real way that truly mattered. Bradley knows he’s due for a deployment soon, one that’ll take him from you- from this bed- for months. He’s already found the perfect thing to give you for when he leaves, something to show you how he’ll be thinking of you. But he doesn’t want to dwell on that inevitable reality.

For now, he just wants to share your warmth and focus on the feel of you pressed against him. Enjoying the luxury of getting to have this with you.

He just lets himself hold you the way you deserve to be held. He lets himself kiss you the way you deserve to be kissed. He’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved for as long as you’ll have him.

“I missed you too.” Whispering your name because he likes feel of it in his mouth.

“I think I was having a dream about you,” you murmur against his lips.

Bradley grins. “Yeah? Was it dirty?” You laugh in response, it’s his favorite sound. Happy. You make him so damn happy. He buries his face in the nook where your neck meets your shoulder and breathes you in. Lavender and cedar. Your favorite lotion to put on before bed, and something of his that he can’t put his finger on. “Mm, you smell good.”

“I took a shower before bed, used your body wash,” you tell him, running your hand along his arm. He senses you smile before he hears it. “And you smell like Jake.”

He groans and rubs the coarse hairs of his mustache against the soft skin of your neck. You giggle and try to squirm away from his prickly retaliation, but he’s got you basically pinned to the bed now. All your perfect curves against his firm angles.

“I can’t believe he’s still using a black ice tree air freshener like a damn sixteen-year-old,” Bradley grumbles. As if him and Seresin hadn’t spent enough quality time together over the week, now he was basically in bed with him and his girlfriend.

“At least you’ll know what to get him for his birthday,” you offer less than helpfully, playfully nudging his foot with yours.

Bradley chuckles and props himself up on an arm to gaze at you. He can feel the need for sleep settling over him, the long day and the longer week catching up with him that now he’s home and here with you. He can tell you’re drowsy too from the dewy way you’re blinking at him, and appreciative that you’re indulging him in this bit of pillow talk. In the quiet of his bedroom, he admits, “I went to your apartment first.”

You look almost bashful when you say, “I like these sheets better.” Both of you know that’s not your real answer for why you’re in his bed instead of yours.

He lifts an eye brow, meaningfully. “You have the same ones at your place.” Bradley knows because he made sure to check and buy the same kind for his own bed.

“Semantics,” you reply, breezily. Although he catches a hint of a pleased smile before you lean into trail a few kisses along the underside of his jaw. “Do you want your side of the bed back?” you ask.

“It’s our bed, sweet girl. You can sleep wherever you want,” Bradley says, “I’m good just as long as I can hold my girl.”

You thumb at the dimple of his chin, gazing up at him, “Have you gotten much sleep this week?”

Bradley just hums in response.

The softest of looks coast over your face. Understanding, sympathy, tenderness. It’s all there painted on your face from the little furrow between your eyebrows to the thoughtful search in your eyes as you read his face in return. He didn’t even say a word and you’ve got him figured out.

You tug on his arm and turn back over, taking him with you. Snuggling in so that your body is cradled closer to his, his chest all but pressed against your back. He slides his arm under your pillow and finds your other hand, threading his larger fingers between your own.

He situates your pillow beneath his head, sighing as he gets comfortable on the supportive mattress. He runs his palm over the familiar dip of your waist as you stretch and burrow in further, getting ready to go back to sleep. His fingertips find the edge of your cotton underwear and he follows it over your hip and along the side of your stomach, slipping one under the band to stroke at the soft skin near your hipbone.

It's the same spot where he’d find you butterflies if the two of you weren’t reversed from the way you usually fall asleep facing the other direction. Their location was a pinpoint in his mind, memorized from the moment he’d seen them that very first night together. He liked imagining he could feel the delicate lines of them under his fingertips as he drifted to sleep.

He hears the almost inaudible catch of your breath at his touch. “In the morning,” he promises.

You make a half-hearted noise of dissatisfaction, already well on your way to falling back asleep. He feels more than a little self-satisfied that he’s the one getting these reactions from you, that you want his touch just as much as he wants yours.

“Tease.” You nestle in closer, your ass brushing against his cock in a way that leaves no question it had been done on purpose.

“Menace,” he chuckles, lightly.

You hum, a pleased sound and reach for his wrist, removing temptation for the both of you and slide his hand beneath your shirt right to the very spot above your bellybutton where he normal finds its drifted to during the night on the mornings he wakes up with you in his arms.

The two of you fit together better than he ever could have possibly imagined.

“Hey, kid, what’re you doing tomorrow? I wanted to take you to breakfast.”

“To the place with the banana pancakes?”

Kisses the crown of your head, and he thinks he hears you sigh. “Wherever you want.”

“I could get away with a little hooky,” you yawn, “Maybe we could go to the beach too. Wanna spend the day with you.”

Bradley pulls you in closer, and closes his eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I can’t wait.” It’s more of a sleepy mumble than anything else, but he’s already looking forward to waking up.

He listens as your breathing slowly evens out, knowing when you’ve fully drifted off. It didn’t take you long, the way it never seems to when he’s in bed beside you.

Maybe one day soon he’ll get to have you here with him every night. But until then, this is more than enough, he’s happy to fall asleep with his dream girl tucked on his arm.

Bradley lets himself imagine the day where you come and stay and it’s for good this time, because all of your clothes are in the closet and your mail gets delivered along with his.

And it won’t be just his favorite dream, it’ll be his reality.

I will never not be down bad for a smitten Bradley Bradshaw! Thank you to @yourlocalcringydaydreamer for sending the ask that inspired this soft fic!

Thank you for reading!

You can read more about these two or check out all of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #rooster x reader #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction

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finelinevogue · 1 year ago

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the best thing

summary - you hate harry after that one night together, but when you need someone the most he will always be there

a/n : mentions of sexual assault, quite intense scenes, crying, angst, drunkeness

word count : +3.8k

pairing : ceo!harry x reader

You don’t know how you got here.

One minute you were eating crisps at home and watching reruns of Friends, then the next thing you know you’re at an exclusive event in the centre of London with your best friend; Leia.

Apparently, your best friend is now dating some actor who is in with all the A-list celebrities and so she can get into all these cool events now.

This party was hosted by none other than Harry Styles, billionaire and CEO of StylesTech. He happened to be the one man on Earth who you absolutely despised. Well, maybe he wasn’t the only one.

Harry became a celebrity when he got put on the front cover of GQ’s magazine for sexiest man alive four times. That’s right… four.

Harry was friends with James, your best friends new boyfriend, and had said she could also invite a plus one. The more the merrier was what Leia had said over the phone.

Now you were here.

Some rooftop bar in the heights of London. The lighting was very low, the music was very loud and the room was completely packed.

There was a dance floor where people were grinding more than dancing. There was a bar, which apparently was a free-bar. There was panoramic views of the city and tiny people below, making you feel like a Goddess up here in the clouds.

“We’re going to get drinks, you coming?” Leia asked you, James tugging on her hand to move them through the crowd.

“Yeah.” You nodded and grabbed onto her open hand.

You weaved through the crowds, apologising for people you bumped into.

You felt slightly too single here. Everyone seemed to be clinging onto someone and yet you were clinging on to a couple - third-wheeling to be precise.

When you reached the bar Leia and James ordered together, leaving you wait for another waiter to come to help you.

You waited a few more moments, before someone whistled behind you like they were calling over a dog.

“Oi, Henry. Serve this lady now.”

You turned around with a disgusted look on your face, only to be met with Harry Styles in front of you. He smirked at you when he noticed your facial expression.

You scoffed and turned back to Henry. “Don’t worry yourself about me. You can finish whatever job you were doing, hun.” You smiled at the young boy, who looked terrified of his boss behind you.

“No, he won’t.” Harry came and stood beside you. “She’ll have a vodka cranberry with ice.”

“She has a fucking name. Prick.” You mumbled the last word under your breath. “Sorry, Henry. I’ll actually have a Long Island Ice Tea, please. Thank you.”

Henry was off, probably to get away from Harry and make your drink.

“Sure your tolerance can handle a Long Island?” Harry laughed beside you.

“Don’t act like you know me, Harry.” You sneered his name.

“Oh, but I do know you. Don’t I? Know you very, very, well.”

You huffed, trying to not let his words effect you.

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Specifically, the night he was talking about. It had been one night back when you were working in a rival tech company. You had been issued to attend a conference weekend, there had been limited numbers of rooms and Harry - the gentleman at the time - had offered you a space in his room.

That night you had too many vodka cranberries and ended up sleeping with Harry that night - although not much literal sleeping actually happened.

The point of hatred for Harry occurred when he left in the morning after you’d confessed that you could see yourself liking him. You’d offered yourself to him for a date together and all he said was; ‘I don’t do seconds.’

Hence, the birth of the hatred for GQs sexiest man alive x4.

“That was one night, years ago. Wasn’t anything to remember.” You sneered.

You lied. It was actually one of the best nights of your life and no one has been as good since.

“Except it was. You didn’t scream that much because you were hating it.” Harry sipped on his glass of whiskey.

“You’re a fucking pig.” You grabbed your drink that Henry had given to you now. “Stay away from me, Harry.”

“Then why did you come to my party?”

“I’m here because of Leia, not you.”

You scoffed and walked off, leaving Harry leaning against the bar in his gorgeous suit to stare at you as you walked away.

The little black dress and heels would do wonders for the power walk away from him. He could see what he has been missing.

You saw Leia and James standing at a table and went over to join them.

“Hey.” You said on approach.

“Hey babes.” Leia smiled as James wrapped his arm around Leia’s waist.

“Cosmo?” You asked, pointing to Leia’s drink.

“You know it. And what the fuck did you get?”

“Long Island.”

“Do you even like them?” Leia laughed.

“No.”

“Then why—”

To prove a point. “Dunno.” You shrugged, taking a sip and feeling sick already from how disgusting the drink was.

“Oh hey man.” James unwrapped his arm around Leia to shake hands with someone. Unfortunately for you, it happened to be the one man you were trying to stay away from.

“Hey. How are you?” Harry asked as they bro hugged.

“Good, good yeah. This is my girlfriend, Leia.” James introduced her.

Leia smiled politely, shaking his hand, and you suddenly wished you’d told her that the story behind the ‘One-Night-Stand’ guy had been this guy. “Hello. Great party.”

“Thanks.”

“And this is Y/N, Leia’s best friend.” James introduced you, not realising that you didn’t need an introduction.

Harry stuck his hand out for you. If you didn’t shake it someone would know something is wrong, so you could your hand in Harry’s and tried to ignore the soft skin against yours. Instead, you tightly squeezed as if you were trying to strangle his hand.

“Lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

You just tightly smiled, not feeling like returning the sentiment.

“Have we met before? You look very… familiar.” Harry had the cheek to say to you. He was an evil man.

“No. You don’t really have a face that I’d remember.” You pulled your hand away from him in disgust.

“Oh really? I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

“It’s not.” You smiled, returning to your drink and trying not to gag with how awful it tasted.

“Uh, so, what are you drinking Harry?” Leia asked, clearly sensing some tension between you.

“Vodka cranberry.”

“Ah no way! That’s our Y/Ns favourite drink.” Leia smiled genuinely.

“How coincidental.” Harry faked a shocked face.

“Yeah. Truly.” You rolled your eyes.

“You two must be soulmates or something.”

“That would require two people going on an actual date.” You stabbed into the conversation.

“I guess..” Leia looked awkward now.

“Your capable of going on a date, aren’t you Harry?” You innocently questioned, turning to face him.

Harry’s nostrils flared and it looked like he was biting back from saying something brass. Instead of speaking, he shot back a good half of his drink.

“Lovely speaking to you, Leia. James, we’ll catch up in a bit.” Harry nodded his head to them both. You didn’t miss how he didn’t acknowledge you as he left the table in a hurry.

You breathed a sigh of relief after he’d gone.

“What the fuck was that about?” Leia asked you immediately.

“What?” You asked dumbly.

“You and Harry. The sexual tension was insane!”

James nodded his head in agreement.

“Don’t be silly.”

“Y/N… C’mon. I’ve seen a penis and a vagina have less sexual tension than you and Harry. Get a fucking room next time.” Leia fanned herself.

“I give up.” You shook your head and downed the rest of your disgusting drink.

“Where are you going?” James asked.

“To find a fourth wheel for me.”

•••••

Twelves minutes later and you’d managed to find someone to spend the rest of your night with.

His name was Jordan and he was very good company. Attractive company too.

You two were cornered away in the back of the room in a circular booth. A tray of shots lay empty in front of you and another tray contained full ones.

You were playing a drinking game to get to know each other and now you were absolutely spinning. Your head had taken a hit after the fifth shot and now you were nine deep and couldn’t stop yourself.

“M-my turn.” You laughed as you hiccuped.

“Okay.”

Jordan sat close to you, his arm wrapped around the back of the booth where you were sat. His eyes were deep brown and his hair was light blonde. He looked the complete opposite of Harry, which maybe was subconsciously a choice.

“Favourite sex position?” You giggled immaturely.

“Hmm. Doggy. I actually hate seeing a girls face when we’re fucking.” He replied and you had to take a shot because he answered honestly.

That should’ve been your first red flag about Jordan.

You just laughed instead.

“My turn. Have you ever masturbated?”

“Alllll the time. No guy does it for me anymore.” You laughed sadly.

Jordan took his shot and then moved in closer towards you. You tilted your head so he could speak into your ear.

“I could fix that problem for you.”

Your eyes bugged at his forwardness.

“No thanks.” You shook your head and laughed to try and keep it civil.

“Oh c’mon. You’ve been flirting with me all night and you know it.” His hand dropped onto your shoulders and pulled himself closer. His other hand dropped onto your bare thigh and started rubbing up and down on your soft skin.

“No I haven’t!” You laughed the situation off.

“You have. And I bet you’re all excited ‘cause of it.”

He started moving his hand further up your leg. Due to your toxic alcohol intake your reaction times were a little slower, but when his hand had made it underneath your dress-skirt you gasped and tried to tug his hand away.

“No. Please stop.” You said softly, whining as he tried to push his hand higher.

His face came closer again and he started to kiss your cheek. You tried to move your face away but his other hand was there to trap you and keep you close.

You started to worry because of how dark it was and how hidden away you were. Everyone was busy dancing and drinking away and none the wiser about the situation you were in.

“Give in, you tease.” His hot breath felt disgusting against your skin.

“I said no. Please.”

You struggled to push him off. Both your hands were focusing on his hand on your leg that you couldn’t do much to get his face away from yours.

“You’ve been teasing me all night and now we get to play.” He laughed.

Tears formed in your eyes as you kept pushing and pushing and pushing. You kept saying no over and over again, but Jordan was just not listening.

He felt disgusting on you and it made you feel just as disgusting.

Jordan just kept laughing whilst you were crying.

An employee caught your eye - in fact, it was Henry. You thought he might’ve come over to you and help, since he could clearly see you crying and struggling with Jordan on you, but instead he turned and walked away.

You sobbed then, thinking that might’ve been your only chance to get help and he just left.

You wondered whether it was because Harry was a dick to him.

You closed your eyes and tried to think of happy thoughts as Jordan started attacking your neck.

You tried to think of Harry. It wasn’t hard.

He was constantly on your mind.

“You taste so good. Stop denying me all of you.” Jordan bit your neck too harshly to be pleasurable.

“Jordan, no!” You shoved with all your strength and managed to completely get him off. You were pissed now. Your mascara may have run, your eyes red and blotchy, your breath shaky, but that was all he was getting from you.

“No?” Jordan scoffed. “NO?”

Jordan grabbed your cheeks and pulled you towards him.

“Ow.” You mumbled through his harsh grip.

“Listen here you little bi—”

“The fuck is going on here?”

Jordan dropped your face and straightened his jacket, whilst you turned your head to find who you already knew was there; Harry.

His voice had sent a wave of calmness through your body the second he started speaking. Now he was standing there with a deathly look on his face you couldn’t help but feel relief.

And you noticed Henry standing behind him, looking just as angry.

“Hi boss. Just having fun.” Jordan responded.

Harry looked between Jordan and you. Jordan looked dazed and content, whilst you looked broken and scared.

“Are you okay?” Harry looked intensely at you.

“She’s fi—”

“I wasn’t fucking speaking to you, was I?” Harry rhetorically asked. “Y/N, come here, love.”

Harry held out his hand, palm facing up.

You made no hesitation as you weakly moved away from Jordan and towards Harry.

Harry helped you stand up and kept a tight hold on your hand. It grounded you, his touch.

“Can I touch you? Just on your face?” Harry asked you softly and you nodded.

Harry cautiously held your chin and moved your head to the side, noticing the red mark and blood on your neck. He hadn’t taken note of your legs yet, but he would come to find red marks on them too.

Your teary eyes were wiped by Harry’s careful thumb. You looked down at his shoes the entire time, too afraid to look at him. You knew you’d crumble if you did.

“Are you okay?” He asked you again.

“No.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I-I was really scared, Harry.” Your voice broke and Harry immediately cupped the back of your head and brought you into his chest. You collapsed there and Harry’s hands held you up strong.

“You’re okay now. I’m here, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Harry said, whilst nodding his head discreetly to the two security men.

They came over within seconds and yanked Jordan out of the booth. His protests were no match for the security guys. As he was being escorted out, Harry stopped him to say “See you in court.”

After Harry had thanked Henry with a nod and smile, he walked the small distance over to the same booth and sat down on the edge of it, pulling you to sit on his lap.

Your body was still wracking with sobs, but only because the adrenaline of the situation had been too much for you.

Now you knew you were safe, it was too much.

Harry made you feel safe.

He rocked you as he held you. It was too loud to have a quiet, serious, conversation, but his actions spoke loud anyways. I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay now.

You heard Harry shout to someone for a glass of cold water, which was brought back to you within a minute.

"Here, sunshine, drink this." Harry spoke closely to you so you could hear.

He held the glass up to your lips and tipped it back slowly for you. Your hands were too shaky to hold onto it yourself, but you managed to drink carefully with the help of Harry.

He even knew when you'd had enough.

Harry's hand cupped the side of your head and brought you to rest back onto his chest. His head stayed rested on top of yours and you both just sat like that for ten minutes or so. It was hard to know exactly how long.

You just sat and thought about everything that had happened tonight and everything that could have happened. Mixed with that, your brain was constantly thinking about Harry and how much, no matter how hard you try otherwise, you like him.

Your heart feels constantly pulled towards him. He's like a beacon in the middle of a storm, safely guiding you towards home.

Just as those thoughts were circling your mind, Harry made his move.

He told you he was going to stand up, so you let yourself slide off his legs onto your own shaky ones. You thought he might be leaving you to go back and mingle with the other guests, so you stood shy to the side.

Harry leaned over to Henry and whispered something in his ear to which Henry nodded.

Before you could make plans as to what you were going to do now, Harry held out his hand to you again - giving you a choice to take it or not. Of course, you took it.

He squeezed your hand in reassurance and then lead you off and out of the room.

You two made no conversation as you wandered out of the noisy room and into a quiet staircase. Harry started walking up the stairs, so you followed him.

It was another two minutes before you made it to the top of the stairs and through a door that led to a rooftop. It was only very small. It overlooked the city skyline, with hundreds of twinkling lights casting shadows over the small space.

There were twinkling fairy lights too, up here. They were knotted around various creeping wall plants like ivy. In the corner of the square space there was a big L-shaped sofa with plenty of cushions and throws.

Harry turned back to smile at you, leading you to the sofa.

He sat down and let go of your hand, allowing you to choose where to sit.

You took one last glance at the skyline and up to the moon, before deciding.

"Wanna sit next to you." You said in a small voice.

"Okay." Harry smiled perfectly.

He shuffled back into the corner of the L-shaped sofa, sitting up and letting his legs stretch out on the chair in front of him. He patted his lap next with a smile. You shuffled over to him and sat on his lap, perpendicular to the way he was sitting so your legs stretched out along the other length of the chair.

"Comfortable?" He asked.

"Mhm."

Harry wasn't too sure though, and next thing you knew he was gathering a couple of blankets to throw over your legs and shoulders.

"Better. Thank you." You nodded.

"You're welcome."

"It's beautiful up here."

"I guess it is."

"Is it all yours?" You questioned.

"What? Everything up here?"

You nodded. Harry then took your hands in his and started to play with the few rings you had on.

"No. Not everything is mine."

You looked up at him and into his eyes, noticing he was looking straight back at you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you thought about the implications to his words. You couldn't help but let a blush and smile take over your face. If he was implying what you thought he was then maybe you were in with a chance of Harry liking you back.

"What do you want to have? You're a billionaire. You could have anything you want." You asked, curiously.

"No even a billionaire can buy everything." He smiled sadly.

"Well, what do you wish you could buy even though you can't?"

Harry chuckled under his breath, "Redemption. A second chance. Love."

You tilted your head back against the sofa, your head feeling less and less drunk by the minute. You sighed, looking at the beautiful moon and wondering how lonely she must be up there.

Loneliness is something you've suffered with for far too long.

You wanted to find that connection with that someone who makes you feel wanted, feel loved and feel chosen. You craved it.

You chuckled.

"What?" Harry asked, softly caressing over the back of your hand.

"It's just funny, is all."

"What is?"

"Us, wanting the same thing. Wonder if we want it from the same people." You tilted your head to the side to face Harry, watching him lick his lips as he looked at yours not-so-subtly.

"You already know we do." Harry said quietly, leaning in towards you.

Your breath hitched as he got closer, your heart beating faster than your brain was processing the motions. You knew you wanted to kiss Harry as badly as he wanted to kiss you, but not like this. Not yet, at least.

"Harry, wait..." You said, watching him stop immediately.

"Fuck. Shitting, fuck. Sorry, Y/N. That was completely inappropriate of me. I mean.. After... Tonight and us... and...."

Harry shot back to his original position and ran a stressed hand over his face as he tried to work through his thoughts.

You smiled as you watched him panic, before taking his stressed hands in yours and kissing the back of it softly - right over that small triage of freckles you knew sat pretty there.

"Hey. It's okay." You reassured him. "I'm not stopping you because of what happened this evening. I'm stopping you because I feel I deserve to know why I wasn't enough the first time around."

This was you standing up for yourself.

"Weren't enou-.. Y/N, love. God, I was such a dick. I never, ever, left you because I thought you weren't enough. I left because I didn't think I was. I was a nobody back then. I looked at you and saw someone who could literally be the epitome of sunshine, and then I looked at me and all I saw was a dark cloud that would cover you. I never thought someone as bright, as happy and as golden as you should ever have to be with someone like me. Hell, it's still a thought that niggles away at the back of my mind. But, I've learnt that I can't let those thoughts win. I owe it you myself, and definitely to you, to at least try."

"Well that was as good as apologies get." You sniffled, trying to hold back the happy tears.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, for our wasted years. I... I just wasn't ready for us back then and I know I was a prick about it."

"You were. A right big prick."

Harry wiggled his eyebrows and you had to fake punch him for it.

"I'm sorry." He said honestly. "And I'm sorry for tonight too."

"That wasn't your fault, okay? I promise." You squeezed his hand.

"Okay. I'm still suing that motherfucker though."

"You're a billionaire already!"

"So? I was going to donate the money to a sexual assault charity or something." He shrugged his shoulders like what he just said was no big deal - like he hadn't just shown his truest heart.

"You're a good person, Harry, who deserves good things." You moved closer to him.

"I am?"

"Mhm."

"Do these 'good things' include you?"

"I don't know. Do you think I'm a good thing?" You teased him.

Harry leaned in closer. "No. I think you're the best."

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles ceo #ceo harry styles #ceo!harry #harry styles fic

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dobadoo · 1 month ago

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˗ˏˋ ꒰ YOUR GENTLE MADNESS꒱ ˎˊ˗ scaramouche

pt I - pt II

Scaramouche loves you - incorrectly, abnormally. As if he were putting out cigarettes and licking burns, breaking your bones and knitting them in his own way..

✧ warnings — singer ! fem ! reader, dark comtent, stalking, dead scene, unhealthy attitude, angst, psychological abuse n some yandere shit . ✧ a/n — I want to portray it not as psychopathological madness, but as selfishness and tenderness in one bottle and control of emotions over actions. On the victim's side, there is a heavy contradiction, doubts and Stockholm syndrome.

Enjoy and be careful reading!

Scaramouche is not one to sacrifice his time, running through the shadows of alleys and trying to be more attentive for the sake of a foolish mortal girl.

Someone inside him laughs sarcastically - a pathetic lie.

This is exactly what the harbinger does. At first, quietly, completely unnoticeably, he watches from afar, being carried away by the color of your eyes, or the shimmering ringing scattering of your voice. Scaramouche catches with his gaze the girl's half-smile, the sliding gait and the heap of unruly hair, braided into (your hairstyle)

You appear every shift in different corners of the island of Narukami and the main city, one way or another near the village of Konda, and for a long time you sing intricate tunes with a fairy-tale flair, while you are showered with mora

The balladeer finds it as pitiful as it is natural, because the ringing of the coins, their shimmer and shine when they are next to your slender legs, dressed in attractive stockings, all merge with your shining skin, your alluring eyes and interesting appearance, with an image worked out to the last detail.

A well-planned show. And one cannot help but notice how you, seemingly opening up to people, while your gaze is just as cold and far from participation, preserve your mystery.

Your little mortal soul sees him for the first time out of the corner of its eye and does not even attach any importance to it. He, leaning against the wall in a large hat and dark clothes, is erased from memory like a haze on the surface of the water. And Scaramouche can no longer deny himself the mischief and get to your hidden essence.

And more to come. He follows on your heels, finds you in all parts of Inazuma.

With each subsequent day, the harbinger appears more often. Now you can't just forget him, and now you allow yourself to watch him back, squinting invitingly as you shower everyone with your beautiful voice, moving to the music on stage. He smiles slyly back, a silvery glint in his gaze. You mistake it for curiosity.

Scaramouche is really trying to be gentle with you. As much as he can.

The lanterns are lit in Inazuma as you finish your song and, to the satisfied hum of the crowd, you gather your mora, disappearing between the houses and exiting the city onto the main path. His voice bounces off the expanses of Teyvat in a dull echo.

"Aren't you afraid of running into a wild kitsune at such a late hour?"

"What? Feel like keeping company?" - You immediately slyly respond to his mockery.

To all the sarcastic comments and stinging reproaches, you willingly echo him in the same way. Puppet laughs to himself: it is so funny that you perceive his words as a challenge.

Y/N…

Your name spills on his tongue like a viscous, bitter molasses.

And it is the only name in his entire life that he will carve into his memory until bloody scars.

Scaramouche is not one to place such a high value on mortals.

However, he understands that he is not so much captivated by your mischievous eyes or your melodious voice, as by all of you.

"I visited Ritou recently," you say casually.

Balladeer of course, knows.

You turn to him and slyly pull the corners of your lips.

Inside, Scaramouche trembles as the sun reflects off the chrysalite of your eyes and illuminates your face as brightly as you illuminate his darkness with a smile.

"I met a guy, he seems nice," he tilts his head in anticipation.

"Nice?" He looks falsely surprised.

"Do you really think so, sunshine?"

You shrug. "His eyes are beautiful, like amber gold."

"It's stupid to play with fire," Scaramouche exhales into your neck, very close. "And don't even try to disappear, deciding to run away."

"I didn't plan to," you grin, but After a long look from Scaramouche, you add: "Okay, okay, I promise not to run away. Any more instructions?" You ask mockingly.

"Don't let yourself be shared with others."

You roll your eyes. You should take this more seriously, but you're too used to this kind of commanding tone from Scaramouche. You, stupid fox, perceive it as a game that tugs at the strings of your soul.

"And where do you even get the right to be jealous.."

Your feigned indifference and arrogance mix with bright flashes of sympathy and traces of embarrassment on your cheeks. You admit to yourself that you like him - not with a passionate hurricane feeling, on the contrary, routinely, but inevitably. This knowledge brings the harbinger to an exciting saturation.

He creeps up on all the bolts of your soul like a predator, and someone else's sincerity is a sweet poison. Help yourself, my dear demons in the dark. Demons willingly accept and ask for more, only everything suddenly falls out of their hands and bursting at the seams, seeing you with that worthless man. Again.

Wasn't he merciful to you?

Scaramouche takes his eyes, as if he were plucking ripe berries from a bush, and crushes them in his hands, melting this amber gold with his icy rage.

He wrings someone else's neck under the screams of the victim and your frightened look.

He is not one to forgive a mistake.

And despite this, puppet gently cups your face in his palms, leaving bloody streaks on your skin, and says irritably:

"I warned you, didn't I?" You look at him nervously and see nothing but blood stains and cruelty. You can't breathe in or out.

"Oh, so you can't say a word because you feel guilty?" Scaramouche adds caustically. His fingers slowly, almost lovingly stroke your cheeks, but you feel nothing. You yourself seem to be at the bottom, completely lost. You stop feeling your body and are left alone with a visual nightmare and a dry throat.

"I," you exhale with titanic efforts. "got it."

"I won't do it anymore.." You forcefully pull the words out of yourself as if with pliers.

"Ha-ha-ha!" His laughter, sincere, condescending, the kind that happens when a child does stupid things, thereby amusing you. You glance sideways and see behind Scaramouche, the lifeless body of a familiar guy. You feel nausea approaching.

"Don't act like an fool,little one, it doesn't suit you. We both know that I can't trust you anymore." You know, but you don't want to believe it. How could this happen? How could you cross paths with the wrong person. How could you — feel lovestick to him — how?!

Scaramouche brushes your hair away from your face, smearing blood across your skin and staining your hair, and peers into your face with his indigo eyes, which you used to look at so lovingly.

"Don't tell me you felt sick from the sight of blood and someone else's death," He sarcastically pulls and rolls his eyes. — "Forget about him and let's go, you look bad."

And he pulls you like an obedient doll. You are scared of what has fallen on you and chained you, but you are even more horrified by the familiar, harmless tone of the harbinger, as if everything is as before. He is just as kindly sarcastic and playful, and you — caustic and sharp-tongued. A stunning symbiosis.

Only the system was initially flawed - Scaramouche never tried to appear kind.

in the third part it will be… tough, it will be really tough.

@comesatimecomesashadow @anantaru @hitomisuzuya @lavandulawrites @himasgod @neuvigroove @quimichi @rsventhesecondd @anemoswirlsmyheart @nil4everheartz @kujiba @genshingorlsrevengeance @ashyashylee

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader

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yourlocalsmutwriter · 4 days ago

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This year, I want to be a wetter, I mean better person - Mark Webber x reader

cws: age gaps (reader is in her 20s, Mark is in his 40s), perv! Mark, semi-public, squirting, dirty talk, author loves dilfs and hopes that one day dilfs will love her too

Whichever spirit possessed your parents to decide to move to the middle of nowhere, England was a hidden blessing. It may not have seemed that way when you had to endure their company for the 4 hour drive from the airport or when you knew that there was no one fuckable for miles. Not that you could get down and dirty under a family roof, whether it was somebody else's or your own. Nothing more haunting than staring down at the lone poster of Fernando Alonso from his Renaut era on your hideously painted walls while cumming. Or, more accurately faking an orgasm. So you spent a nice, festive Christmas Eve and Christmas in your new family home. Catalogued everything that went wrong in your life to land you in this position from the 26th onwards. Actually explored the town and found that at least 1 bar (as if it would have more than that not on the main street) was open on New Years.

Your parents were not party people. By 8, they had tucked in on the couch and were yawning through a holiday concert of some Dutch guy. You shimmied into the one presentable dress they had seemed to pack from your childhood home. "Conveniently," your cute clothes were in storage, and the owner was somewhere in Dubai at the moment. So you have to make do with this black piece. It's not your first choice. But at least the fact that you had grown some tits since being 18 a few years ago was comforting. You pass your parents by with a promise to not be long now. Being met with a sleepy "Don't worry, sweetheart." you know that they're going to sleep through the fireworks anyway.

To nobody's surprise, the bar isn't crowded. The raging bull is in a pathetic state. Some top 40 hits radio station is playing. The floor is sticky. The bartender looks like he's your parents' age, and it doesn't seem like he knows just what goes into your favorite Long Island iced tea. You sit down and ask him to keep pouring you rum and cokes until either he runs out or your wallet is empty. You sip his very boozy concoction slowly, as you're texting your friends. Complimenting their party fits. Asking details about potential hookups. Looking at pictures of their pets in ugly sweaters. As midnight draws near, someone else actually gets inside the bar. You look up and see a pair of green eyes and holy shit, it's a holiday miracle. It's Mark Webber. 9 time GP winner. Manager of your current favorite driver on the grid. Ultimate celebrity crush, Mark Webber. With the grace of a newborn giraffe, you slide out of your chair. You don't want him to see you, but at the same time, you need it to survive. There goes your cover of not knowing who he is. Now, the bar name makes sense. It all aligns like a jigsaw puzzle. The car themed coasters. The signed cocktail napkin framed on the wall. The only “fancy” drink on the menu being named the Aussie grit.

After you not so subtly go to the bathroom to reapply your lipstick and try to work wonders with a mascara wand, you go back to your place at the bar. Only Mark is next to you, bendy black straw into his namesake cocktail.

"Look, I don't know how much they paid you to tail me here, but I can double it." he says, and you're confused.

"You're some kind of journalist or something.” You shake your head, still too stunned that he's here, talking to you.

“Don't tell me you're just some big city girl whose boyfriend brought her to meet the parents, and now you're single because you found him groping his cousin. Because, believe me, that romcom's more of a staple than you think." He continues.

"Wow, how bad is this town that a young woman in a bar on NYE is news. My parents moved here in April. I'm visiting them for the first time. And so far, I haven't encountered any guys, much less the ones that think the best part of waking up is Folgers in their cup." You explain.

"Are your folks the couple who hate each other but are always bragging about their daughter's graduation in March?" Mark guesses, and you are once again stunned by just much this small town gets to people. Not only does a man that's starred into many of your wet dreams know your parents. No, that's not enough, he also knows they're not the perfect relationship role models. You can't help but wonder if it's hereditary and also the reason you haven't brought home a partner. Pushing that to the side, you reply to him with

"Just the ones.”

"You know your dad thinks we're best friends, and your mom keeps asking if I can hire you at Porsche or McLaren." He says and suddenly all the facetimes with your parents come back to you. The man with a very nice house who they invite over for tea sometimes. The one that's been a little under the weather lately. The one who drives a sports car to the center.

"You're motorsport Mark? Of course you are. Be grateful that you don't have any kids my age because I'd practically be your daughter in law too." You speak before you think, momentarily forgetting about the man's wife and kid. Then you wonder why he's out here with you and not back at home. You're inching to ask, but there is no way to say “are you divorced, and if yes, can I ride you into next year, please?"”. Especially after he hits you with a reminder of why that's a bad idea.

"You should be happy that your parents are proud of you, sweetheart. And that they want you to stick around with them here." He says.

"If I was, wouldn't I be about to watch the fireworks with them?" You ask.

"Still some time until that, isn't it? Wanna make it count?" He replies to your question with a question.

You agree, and there's two more Aussie Grits on the bar. The bar tender also places two laminated sheets of paper and two markers in front of you. The comic sans text on top says "New Years Resolutions" and the neat little lines give you 5 rows to write in.

"Sick of hearing us talk, aren't you?" Mark asks the other man, and the latter just grunts.

"Bet I can write mine before you finish your drink." The former driver says, clearly still a speed fiend. You shake on it, and you start chugging the strong drink. Meanwhile, he's adding chicken scratch sentences to the A4.

He beats you, and to his credit, all his resolutions are thought out and personal. You're happy to see that he's put "do more for Oscar" in there and giggle at the "post more on Instagram?". While you're still reading, he's busy gloating, making fun of you for not learning the most important thing in college - how to hold your liquor.

"What, like you could do any better. Mark, I'm surprised you're standing after the drinks you already had. I bet that I'll have to see you get locked in here till the morning for your own sake." You say, both posing a challenge and remembering the "beauty" of some more traditional British pubs. You hope that the one booth you see is at least comfortable. He doesn't back down, and you're on the clock, writing down what you want to accomplish in 2025. But your brain is buzzing from the drinks, from the way liquid is dripping down Mark's chin and onto his pants, by the fact that you're a horny drunk and the unavailable dilf next to you is too delicious to pass on. You lose, unsurprisingly. Handing over the list, you absent mindedly say

"You know I wouldn't mind your help with the last one, I'm sure you can make it happen, wink wink, nudge nudge.". You're referring to the item "attend my first grand prix," a dream of yours since getting into the sport. But apparently, in the rush, you had added a more nsfw goal under it. Because the item on your list that ended it prematurely was, in fact, "squirt for the first time.".

"You wanna double-check your work before saying things, sweetheart. " he asks, and you're mortified when you do. You start apologizing and gathering your things to leave. Mark places a strong hand on your bare thigh to stop you.

"I never said I wasn't going to do it. I'd be glad to. I'm just making sure that here and now is the place you want to bring this up." He says. Your jaw drops, and you're like a fish out of water.

"Aren't you married?" You ask. It's not the first that you thought would come out of your mouth. Yet, you have to hear him say it.

"Divorced. Technically, in the process of, but no ring. Empty house, and a cold bed. Only my left hand for relief." He says and you're picturing Mark pumping his cock in his fist. You cross your legs and clench your thighs slightly, which doesn't go unnoticed by the older man. He moves his hand and spreads them.

"And you, sweetheart? Do you have some secret boy toy to make your switch into adulthood more fun? Or a nice pretty girl like yourself that you've been shaking up with since your dorm days?" He asks.

"No. Same as you, but I use my right hand. My clit's too sensitive if I switch up my technique." You say, hellbent on making that man go crazy for you.

Mark looks around and tips a crisp 50-pound note from his wallet. You can't help but notice the little blue wrapper peeking out of the Italian leather. He calls over the bartender and asks for "2 coffees when we come back." You think the Aussie's going to take you to his car. Have you ruin his custom leather seats and make you lick up your mess as punishment? You guess he might even take you to his house, not that you have any idea where it is exactly. Ask you to hold on tight as the headboard to his once marital bed slams against the wall. Makes sure your sensitive little clit humps against the pillow as he's fucking you from behind.

But Mark drags you to the men's room instead. Spreads your legs and makes you grab the sink.

"You know I'm a man of few words. And as much as I'd love to start you off with a hands-on approach, I think you haven't earned it yet. So let's show you some videos first, huh?". He pulls out his phone and opens his Google drive. He's got a folder titled xxx and in it is maliciously organized subfolders by years.

"I can click any of them? And I'll see you making a woman squirt?" You say, impressed.

"Never met a girl whose pussy I couldn't make gush. Although I'd stick to the pre-retirement years." He says and you settle on a 2012 video. You know the later ones probably feature his ex. But this one stars a faceless blonde, all curves and moans. You squirm when Mark smacks her ass, watching it jiggle. You keep your eyes on how his tongue slides between her folds. You try to ignore how he's rolled up your dress and is just staring at your underwear. Watching it get wetter and wetter. You're too preoccupied with younger him to ask for his touch now.

The next video is a brunette, with pierced nipples and a possible disdain for Mark. That's gone when he slides into her, fingers pinching her clit. He makes her come too, and the next one and the one after that. You've seen enough. You turn and find him eye level with your cunt, long legs bent into a squat. He may be more than a decade older than in the video, but an old dog doesn't stop learning new tricks.

"Mark, I need you, please." You beg, beyond ready to be treated like one of his "little starlets" from the spank bank. You wonder if he'd film you too. Have your pussy soaking his cock in your juices as a memento of your time together.

"How do you want me, sweetheart?" He asks.

"Need you to fuck me, want to feel your cock inside of me, please." You moan out. And he's a perfect gentleman, because he promises he'll give it to you.

But first he slides his fingers to the front of your underwear and two of them are on your clit, rubbing. Maybe it's because of his height, that the length has spread even to his limbs. Maybe it's the dexterity, the sheer speed of his movements. Usually you'd prefer it starting slow, and building up. But with Mark, it was all climbing, starting at a 100 and moving towards 200 and above. Your hips are bucking against him, searching more. He slows just for a second in order to thrust two fingers inside of you.

"Look at you, already a mess. Did I get you so rilled up, sweetheart. Does this old man do it so much for you?" He asks and smiles as you can only groan and beg for more. He's not someone who draws out things, so he tells you to keep it up for him as he opens the condom package. He watches you whine that your fingers don't feel as good, that they aren't enough.

"Oh sweetheart, just you wait. You're going to be ruined." Mark says as he feeds you just the tip. He makes you take your hands off, replacing them with his. He thrusts up, matching his movements on your clit.

"It's too big, please." You say. Were you asking him for more or to stop? Your body seemed to favour the latter , because you were practically dripping on the bathroom floor. Mark uses his other hand to bring you closer to himself, his shallow thrusts pumping deeper and deeper. He's hitting that spot in your body, the one which you didn't even know existed.

"Be good and cum for me, will you, sweetheart? I don't have all night. So unless you want me to drag you out like this and fuck you on the town square under the fireworks, you better let go." Mark says. He does miss how tight you get around him when he talks like this. He continues, telling you how good you make him feel and how he can't wait to see your pretty orgasm face.That's what tips you over the edge. They're tears coming out of your eyes, you're pretty sure you're drooling and Mark's cock is indeed soaked with your juices. You can hear the obnoxious squelching of his last few thrusts, before he also comes.

He's still inside you when your alarm rings, the sound coming from your purse, long forgotten on the floor. You scramble to turn it off.

"One minute to midnight. Well, it's more like 20 seconds now." You announce. Mark takes your face in his hands (still slick with you) and kisses you gently. He doesn't have the heart to tell you that this is the first kiss he's had all year. You don't have the heart to tell him the same. All you know is that your return flight might be rebooked to a later date. You finally found something interesting to do in your parent's new town.

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x you #f1 imagine #mark webber x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber smut

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probably-writing-x · 2 years ago

Text

Armour

Rafe!AU x Reader

Summary: Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

Warnings: Suggestions of a toxic relationship, cursing, mentions of alcohol / drug dependency, I think that’s everything??

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: I LOVED writing this - it took me ages but I just had the idea from this gif and went for it. Let me know if you like it <3

It wasn’t a feeling you could describe. Because, really, it felt like there was no explanation. You’d been in love. You’d been consumed. And now? Nothing. It felt like a part of your future had been torn away in front of you. And you didn’t know why.

For nine years now you’d been dating your boyfriend, James. He was your high school relationship, turned college relationship, and the two of you had returned to the Outer Banks and bought a place together - planning on staying here so that he could work for his father now that the two of you had graduated college.

You’d been living in the house for a year now, down the road from his parents’ home, where he’d grown up. It was weird really, you’d been so certain that you wanted to get off the island. But he’d suggested moving back here and you agreed. That was what was going to keep him happy, anyway. And, plus, him working for his Dad’s company would mean that the two of you were practically set for life. Though it felt strange to think that your life would begin and end here. You’d done it for him, for your relationship, your future with James.

And yet you couldn’t figure out where things had changed. You couldn’t pinpoint a day, a moment, an argument; nothing. One day he was yours and the next he was disappearing. And, as much as you wanted to keep him, there was only so much it was in your control.

It was a day burned into your mind, one that would remain burned there for a long time. The way he’d looked at you, cold and heartless. The way he’d spoken, yelled and screamed when you disagreed. And, just like that, he’d packed a bag and walked out towards his parents’ place, telling you that it was over. Nine years of a relationship slipping away, disappearing into the dark of your first night alone.

Sarah had come round that night and stayed with you, her baby bump growing into her fifth month of pregnancy. She’d stayed with you on the couch as you cried, still been there in the morning when your eyes were tired and puffy. She’d stayed the entire day and helped pack up as many of your things as you could, called John B to get him to help take your stuff to their house.

They lived where the chalet used to be, in a house John B had built with the boys, much bigger than what they used to have. One of the rooms was taken up by the starts of their nursery, and they’d already set up an air mattress in the other room for you, a spare sheet and comforter folded on top. You didn’t sleep much more than a couple of hours that night either, or the night after, and you only slept from exhaustion on the fourth night.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Sarah knocks gently on the door before letting herself in, “How are you doing?”

You pull yourself to sit up in the bed, pushing yourself back against the headboard, drawing your knees to your chest, “I’m okay, just tired.”

She frowns and comes to sit on the bed beside you, her hand squeezing your knee, “So, you don’t have to see him if you don’t want to, but my brother is flying back today.”

Rafe. Her older brother. The boy you’d grown up with. He’d been your first kiss at a party when both of you were too young to know what you were doing. He’d been the boy that picked you up from your first drunk night when your parents couldn’t know you’d been drinking. He’d been the one your eyes were drawn to in a crowd of people since you could remember. You hadn’t seen him since the summer after your first year of college. He’d decided to move to New York - taking up a job in the city. The two of you had sat on the dock and spoken for hours and he ended the conversation by telling you he was leaving in the morning. Since then, your paths hadn’t crossed. He was barely home nowadays. But, you suppose, with Sarah being pregnant, it was a better time than any for him to return to the old stomping grounds.

“He’s coming here?” You swallow the lump in your throat.

She nods, “He’s going to sleep on the couch for a couple of nights. I haven’t told him anything about you and James - I figured it was up to you if you wanted to tell him or not.”

You take a deep breath and nod too, “Okay, thank you.”

Sarah squeezes your leg again and places her other hand over her bump, pushing herself up to stand, “John B is making some food if you want any breakfast. I’d make the most of it, he hates cooking normally,” She laughs, the sympathy still casting a shadow over her bright eyes.

Sarah knew how things were with you and Rafe, as much as she never mentioned it to you - it was a conversation that it felt like the two of you had already had without any words being spoken. She’d seen his face after the two of you kissed, the way he blushed and stuttered afterwards. She’d watched the way things had changed between you when you and James got together, the way Rafe seemed to distance. And she’d watched the pain in your eyes the day he left, like a little window through to the ache that seemed to never leave your heart. And, right now, she’d seen the slightest glimmer of hope in you at the mention of him coming home.

For the first time in a few days, you find yourself actually wanting to get up, get ready, feel a little human for the day. You shower and do all of your skincare, spending a little longer on it than you usually do. You half-dry your hair and plait it instead of leaving it to frizz around your head, and you change into clean clothes from the duffle bag of things that you and Sarah had packed up from your house - well, what was your house.

By the time you come downstairs, John B and Sarah are sat at the dining table, tucking into plates of food with a fresh pot of coffee and a jug of orange juice on the table. One of his arms is around the back of her chair, his eyes bright as he listens to her speak.

“Hey! You’re up!” He looks over and grins as you come down the stairs, “How are you feeling today?”

You smooth a hand over the two braids on your head and smile, feeling like you have to force it just a little less than before, “Better, thank you.”

“Good, well there’s food here if you want it,” He gestures to the table, “And eat up quick because Sarah’s eating enough for two at the minute.”

You laugh and make your way over, sitting down at the opposite side of the table. From the angle, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in their lounge and the sight doesn’t feel like yourself. Your eyes are dark underneath, something no eye cream would fix after just one use. And your body seems weirdly shrunken in the sweatshirt around your figure. It sits long over your arms and so baggy that you can’t make out the shape of your torso. Your skin looks drier and your lips are chapped. But you remind yourself that you feel a little more human today and it seems to ease the worry for a while, your breath feeling less shaky as you turn back to the food.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realise the time,” John B glances at the clock, “I promised I’d go and help Pope build their crib before I went to pick your brother up - apparently I’m a pro at it now.”

Pope and Cleo were also expecting, due just a month after Sarah and John B’s baby would likely be born. They lived in a house not far from his parents’ place. JJ and Kie had come back to the Outer Banks a few months ago after travelling for a year - though they said it was less travelling and more finding as many places to surf as they could. Before that, Kie had been working on turtle conservation in a few different projects and JJ had been flying out everywhere with her - experiencing the world as a pair. They had no plans of marriage, or kids, or even where to settle, but that was perfect for them; chasing another adventure until it felt like they’d done it all. And you - whilst it felt like all of your friends were starting a new chapter, yours had just ended and the author was yet to think of where the story would go next. It was as if one of the main characters had just dropped out of the pages, leaving the story in ruins from here on out - all chapters of marriage and pregnancy and growing old together disappearing as quickly as James had told you it was over.

John B kisses Sarah a quick goodbye and grabs the keys to his truck, disappearing outside. A chill flurries through the house but it dissipates quickly, settling back into the home they’d managed to make together. You weren’t sure if you could remember your house feeling like that, and when you think about it for too long, you settle on the fact that maybe it never had.

~~~

It’s early afternoon when you hear the sound of a car in the driveway. And you’re sure your ears prick up to the noise, your heart seeming to pause a little in preparation. You set down the book in your hands and stand up from the couch, glancing at your appearance in the mirror quickly and dragging your fingertips underneath your eyes as if to push the fatigue away from them.

“I think that’s them back,” Sarah comments as she comes downstairs, making her way over to the door, “Yeah, that’s them! Are you okay?”

You glance at her and regather your words, “Of course.”

And, just like that, the door clicks open and the sound of two rumbling voices tumbles into the room, a deep laugh that pauses halfway through.

“Hey little sis!” Rafe’s voice seems no different than when you last heard it, deep and intense but seemingly so comforting.

He grins as he wraps his arms around his sister, cautiously as if the bump between them is the most fragile thing he’s seen. His eyes flick down to the baby bump and back up, shaking his head with the slightest reflection of tears in his eyes.

“I still can’t believe it,” He chuckles, hugging her again, “I was just saying to John B that I-“

As he pulls away from her, his eyes flick back to the only other body in the room. The few metres between you. His shoulders and features soften, his body relaxing just slightly. His smile falters, somewhere close to shock, before returning as bright as it had been before.

“(Y/N)…” His voice seems to trail off, Adam’s apple bobbing and the sound of his duffle bag hitting the floor seeming to echo in the space between you, “Long time no see.”

With that, he strides the short distance between you and wraps his arms around you tightly, tight enough that your feet just slightly lift from the ground. He smells like dark cologne and coffee and his hair is longer than when you’d seen him last, his face seeming fuller and sharper as if he’d grown into himself, a shadow of stubble growing darker around his jawline.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” He comments, settling you back as he steps away from you, hands still gripping your forearms - his eyes seem to graze over you as if checking over.

“Yeah I-“ You clear your throat, voice seeming scratchy as your eyes find it impossible to leave him, “I’m just staying for a few days.”

“God, it’s good to see you,” His brows raise with his smile, a light laugh warming the space between you before Rafe seems to come back to himself, clearing his throat and letting go of his hold around your arms, one of his hands flying up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“I’ll leave your stuff down here if that’s okay, Rafe,” Sarah comments, “Are you sure you’re okay with sleeping on the couch?”

He turns away from you and takes a second to rejoin a conversation away from you, nodding, “Yeah, of course. We all know I slept in way worse places after drunk nights before.”

You’d learnt from Sarah that Rafe was completely sober now - he’d stopped the drinking and the drugs not long after you’d gone off to college, and Sarah still swore it was like a weird shift into his old self coming back. You weren’t sure that you knew what she meant - he’d always been Rafe to you.

“Alright, I’ll bring down some pillows and a blanket,” John B nods, jogging upstairs.

Before you can say anything else, your phone starts to ring on one of the side tables by the couch, buzzing loudly against the wooden surface. The screen flashes up with “James” accompanied by a blue heart emoji and a photo of the two of you on vacation that you still hadn’t removed.

“I-“ You feel your cheeks heat, “I should take this.”

You grab the phone and flee down the corridor, only answering the call when you’re outside, the door to the garden remaining ajar behind you.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N),” He returns, his voice seeming cold even through the speaker of your phone, “Are you still at Sarah’s?”

“Yeah I’m just staying here for a few days I-“

“Okay, I have more of your stuff to drop off,” James cuts in, “I’ll swing by and leave it at the front door.”

“James can we just-“

He hangs up then and the phone feels heavy in your hand, still lightly pressed against your ear as if any part of him still remained. Your heart seems to clench and your bottom lip quivers but you pierce your lips together tightly to stop it, clenching your nails into your palm until the slight sting centres you back into where you were. This morning had felt like a better day, a few steps forward, and within just a few short words you seemed to have tumbled all the way back to square one.

When you turn around and go back inside, it’s just Rafe left in the lounge.

“Where did-“

“Something to do with pregnancy,” Rafe narrows his eyes a little, a small smile on his lips, “But I have no idea what she actually said.”

You nod and wrap your arms around yourself, avoiding his gaze.

He frowns, standing up from the couch, “Is everything okay?”

You nod again.

“I saw you were reading To Kill A Mockingbird, do you like it? I realise I never asked you,” He picks up your copy from the table and brushes a thumb over the worn cover.

He’d given you that book when you’d graduated. You’d read it front to back at least four times since then, sometimes just reading the annotations that he’d put in the margins instead of the printed words on the page.

“It’s the one I gave you,” His brows drop as if in sudden realisation, and his eyes seem brighter like they’re swelling with the hints of pride in his heart, “I didn’t even realise it was the same one. I can’t believe you’ve still got this.”

You fiddle with the material on the sleeves of your jumper, noticing how it seems to scratch at your skin more now, “Yeah, same one.”

Rafe glances up and the pride in his eyes seems to etch towards worry, “(Y/N), what’s going on?”

You shake your head again, “Um, I think I’m going to go and lie down. I should probably give you a chance to settle in anyway, you’ve been travelling and everything.”

With a slight stumble over your words, you hurry towards the stairs, disappearing out of his sight before he has the chance to stop you.

~~~

Somewhere between then and now, you’d fallen asleep. You wake up hours later and the sun has shifted to the afternoon angle that meant it no longer came burning through the window in the spare bedroom. The house is quiet but you can hear the sound of conversation downstairs, quiet voices and hushed tones.

When you open your bedroom door, the conversation becomes clearer - Rafe and Sarah.

“She’s not herself, why won’t you tell me what’s happened?” Rafe says, and you can hear the worry injected into his words.

“Rafe, I can’t tell you for her, you’ve just got to wait until she’s ready to talk about it,” Sarah explains, “It’s been years since you two have seen each other, you can’t blame her for not wanting to talk to you about stuff yet.”

“We used to talk about everything, I knew everything about her,” Rafe returns, “I’ve just… I’ve missed her. And I’ve come back but it still feels like I haven’t got her back.”

You feel the weight settle and flutter on your chest, a weird combination between wanting to run down to him and run away from it all. It felt weird to have Rafe back when you felt so distant from yourself. The closest to him you’d been in years and yet feeling like the furthest from you.

One of the floorboards creaks beneath your feet and their conversation quickly ceases. You take that as your sign to go downstairs, feeling a little more human now that you’d caught up on another few hours of sleep.

“Hi honey,” Sarah smiles warmly, “There’s a box of stuff for you on the counter.”

“Of course there is,” You roll your eyes at her and she laughs a little, “Thank you.”

It’s an unlabelled box, likely one of the small ones you’d used to move into the house in the first place. But you take the lid on top as a sign to not open it - whatever was in there you probably didn’t want to be thinking about now. It could be opened on one of your bad days when you needed to cry. Until then, it could definitely be ignored.

“Alright I’m just going to call John B and get him to pick up some dinner on the way home,” Sarah comments, walking out of the kitchen and into the lounge instead.

Rafe is leaning back against one of the counters, a red solo cup in his hand, his eyes looking down as he swirls around the liquid in the cup.

“I thought you stopped drinking,” You comment, gesturing to his hands.

He chuckles a little and looks up at you, “Yeah, yeah, I did. It’s just water. This was the first cup I could find.”

You nod and walk over to him, leaning against the kitchen island opposite Rafe so that you were facing him, your arms folding over your chest.

“So, how’s New York?”

Rafe smiles, “Very different from home. Sometimes a good different, other times not so much. Just a lot to get used to, you know?”

You nod in agreement but don’t say anything.

“Makes me realise how much I miss from home.”

Your eyes find his again and both of you smile just enough for it to be visible. The air feels warmer between you, warmer still every time your eyes meet.

“So, you moved back here, to the Outer Banks, glad to come home?”

“I don’t-“ You purse your lips for a second, “I did, when I first got back. I don’t know anymore.”

He’s silent in return and your eyes lose contact, yours flicking to the floor. Rafe stretches out one of his feet and nudges at your ankle, tapping you, “Hey.”

You look up and let your eyes return to his, his gaze softening as his words quieten. The tension in you seems to relax just enough.

“What happened, (Y/N)?”

You feel the lump reform in your throat, the way it seems to constrict any chance you have of speaking, the way your muscles feel weaker, like you could crumble there and then, “I don’t know.”

The words come out barely audible, scratching from your tongue as your bottom lip trembles a little.

“One day we were fine, the next he told me it was over,” You half-laugh because you’re certain it’s the only way you can avoid crying, though tears are already blurring your vision, “I don’t know what happened.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe steps forward and pulls your arms from around your torso, guiding them around his back before wrapping his own arms around you too, letting your head bury onto his chest. He brings a hand up to your hair and keeps you close to him, tightening his hold on you as much as he possibly can.

You let yourself cry into him, tears staining the t-shirt as you grip onto the material at the back, holding him like you’re terrified that he’ll slip away too. Despite the way you need him to hold you, you’re sure that he needs you too - in the way his chin rests on top of your hair, the way he adjusts every few seconds as if reassuring himself that you couldn’t get any closer.

The pair of you stay like that for a short infinity, neither of you wanting to be the first to move, both of you certain that years of emotion is pouring into the single gesture, the single contact after years without. A short infinity.

~~~

That night, you sit down for dinner with Sarah, John B and Rafe. They all make sure that you fill your plate of food first, and encourage you to have the last slice of pizza. They look at you with a sense of relief on their features, like you were back just a little more than you had been. Rafe’s arm settles over the back of your chair, his other hand wrapped around a glass of water. He looks at you when you speak and chuckles deeply when you make a quiet joke. You feel the most human you’ve felt in years.

And when you go to bed that night, it feels less likely that you’ll be lying awake questioning everything, much more likely that you’ll sleep soundly. You change into your pyjamas - a baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts - and get under the covers, tugging them up to your neck.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door, a little tap like it isn’t sure if it wants to be heard.

“Come in,” You announce, pushing yourself to sit up a little against the headboard.

It’s Rafe on the other side, only his silhouette visible against the dark of the room, the light of the corridor illuminating him from behind, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” He whispers into the dark, “I was just downstairs and I realised you left this.”

His hands are wrapped around the copy of your book, the pages slightly folded at the corner.

“Oh, right, yeah, I forgot it,” You smile, “Thank you.”

“You just, you normally always read before bed,” He continues, bringing it over as the bedroom door starts to shut slowly behind him, “Well, you used to, I don’t know if you still do that anymore, I just remember when you used to- I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

You laugh a little and he sets the book down on your nightstand.

“So, you promise you’re okay?”

“I will be,” You return, watching as he stands awkwardly at the side of your bed, like he’s completely out of place, “Do you want to sit down?”

His mouth opens and closes like he’s not sure what to say but he nods, walking around to the other side of the bed and sitting down beside you, looking out of place still in his clothes from the day.

You’re both silent, illuminated by the slither of light coming through from the ajar bedroom door. On the far side of the room, there’s a vanity stretching across the wall, it’s scattered with a few of your belongings, and right in the middle sits the box that James had dropped off earlier.

Rafe nods his head in the direction of it, “So, have you opened that?”

You look at him and frown, “No, no I haven’t.”

“Don’t you want to know what he’s given you?”

You laugh a little, “I can tell you want to know. Go and get it, let’s open it.”

He chuckles and scrambles to stand up, grabbing the box and bringing it back over. Rafe settles himself back into the bed and sets the box down between the two of you, “Go on, you do the honours.”

You laugh and take the lid off. The box is only half full, littered with a few relatively meaningless things. There’s a couple of your tops, a jewellery box you took when you went on vacation, a couple of bracelets, a photoframe - empty, though that had once held a photo of you and James together.

“Holy shit! You kept this?” Rafe exclaims, picking up a shot glass that had been buried under a few things.

The glass had come from a night the two of you had snuck into the bar near the port. You’d managed to pick the lock on the door, spent hours just the two of you chatting and figuring out random drinks to make. Rafe had poured you shots of every liquor he could find and you’d shared each one, grimacing a little less with every shot as the alcohol started to take effect. You’d left some time after sunrise, managed to stumble your way down to the beach, and woke up hours later with the shot glass still held in your grasp. It had come with you to college, and came back when you moved back home. A little pocketed story that only you and Rafe knew.

“Of course I did,” You giggle, “That was a good night.”

Rafe traces his thumb around the top of the glass, “Yeah, it was I loved that night.”

“Do you remember it?” You scoff, “We were wasted.”

You remembered it. You were so sure he was going to kiss you, then. To kiss you for the first time that wasn’t controlled by a party game. To kiss you for the first time away from a party of laughing eyes. He’d looked at you like he was going to kiss you, but he never did. Though, when you slept, he’d linked his fingers with yours, squeezing three times before both of you fell asleep. His hand, just like the shot glass, had still been in yours hours later.

“I remember.”

The silence falls once again as both of you pick and pull at the rest of the objects in the box. Nothing takes much interest after that, but you find yourself instead drawn to what was missing.

“It’s not in here,” You mumble, pulling through the box one more time to check again.

“What isn’t?” Rafe frowns, “What’s not there?”

“It’s um-“ You clear your throat, glancing up at him, “It’s stupid really.”

He shakes his head, “It’s not stupid, what is it?”

“Do you remember that little giraffe I used to have? My nana got it for me when I was a kid, it’s not in here, and I couldn’t find it when me and Sarah got my stuff. It’s not here,” You frown again, taking out the shot glass and closing the lid on the rest of the box.

“Well, it’s got to be at the house somewhere,” Rafe shrugs, “We’ll find it.”

You half-laugh, setting the box down on the floor beside the bed, “What are we going to do? Break into the house?”

Your laugh continues but Rafe’s stops after a split second, shrugging his shoulders, “Let’s do it.”

You halt in your movements, looking at the way his eyes seem so set on you, like nothing could tear them away, “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

~~~

That’s how, within the hour, you’re walking up towards your old house, it looking eerie and dark in your absence, the flowers you’d planted outside looked dry even after a few days without you here and it bubbled a new sense of loss inside you, like a part you hadn’t thought you’d lose - a mundane part that just added to the rest.

“Do you still have a key?” Rafe hisses from beside you as you both walk up the driveway.

“No, I left it at home,” You return, glancing up at him.

“What?” Rafe raises his brows, “We came all the way here and yo-“

“Kidding,” You smile, pulling the key from your pocket, “This is still my house too until he settles everything.”

Rafe grins, “I like the way you think (Y/L/N).”

You step up to the door and go to unlock it. Rafe steps forward, his hand wrapping around yours before you can move. He looks at you and presses the index finger of his other hand to his lips, guiding his hand around yours to turn the key in the lock. The door creaks when it opens and you both wince, letting it close slowly behind you.

“Damn, this is a nice place,” Rafe whispers, glancing around the downstairs rooms of the house.

You look at him and roll your eyes, “That makes me feel better.”

He laughs quietly and clasps his hands together, widening his eyes at the quiet noise that seems to echo around the house, “So where are we going?”

“I don’t know where it would be,” You shake your head, “Maybe the lounge?”

He outstretches a hand, “Lead the way.”

You take Rafe’s hand in yours as the two of you go towards the lounge. You bump into the couch as you step into the room and he stumbles behind you, hands flying to your waist to stop you from falling.

“We’re not exactly pros at this,” Rafe laughs, letting you balance yourself again as you stand up, your back pressing against his chest.

You glance down at yourself, a baggy hoodie over a pair of shorts, a pair of crocs on your feet, and him, a pair of slacks and a checkered shirt with a couple of buttons undone. He steps back from you and glances around the dark room, pulling out his phone and flicking on the flashlight. It casts a circle of light across the room as you start to look around, noticing the empty spots where photos of the two of you used to decorate the space. There are a few takeout boxes sprawled over the coffee table and a line of empty beer cans, one of them rolling along the floor when you step beside it.

“I can’t see anything,” Rafe hisses, flashing the light in your direction before you squint at the sight, blocking the brightness from your eyes, “Ooh sorry I-“

You both freeze then as a light flicks on upstairs, the hallway light.

“Who’s that?” Rafe mouths in your direction and you look at him like it’s the worst thing you’ve heard, watching the realisation sink onto his face just a second later.

Before either of you can say anything, there’s the sound of feet padding down the stairs, picking up their pace as they near you. Rafe takes a stride across the room, bumping shoulders with you as he comes to a stop.

“Who the f-“ James rounds the corner, “(Y/N)? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I ju-“

“Rafe?” James interjects, “What? Did you hear (Y/N) was single and catch the next flight back?”

“Hey, no, that’s not what-“ You begin again.

“Fucking unbelievable,” James interrupts you again, “What are you doing in my house?”

“Cut it out, asshole. Stop interrupting her,” Rafe cuts in, and you can instantly sense his change in demeanour, the way he shifts on his feet, “And this is (Y/N)’s house too, you got that?”

James scoffs, folding his arms over his chest, “What? So you brought Rafe here to fight your battles?”

“No, no,” You blush at the discomfort, “I just needed some of my things. Well, no, not some, just one thing actually, it’s stupid, just a little thing… I just-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, “Seb. He wasn’t in the box of stuff.”

“What? That weird giraffe thing you brought everywhere,” James scoffs, “That’s really that important?”

“Um,” You laugh a little to relieve some of the awkward tension clenching your chest, “No, I guess it’s not important but we were just talking, well, we were looking through the box and we realised it wasn’t there and Rafe, um, Rafe said-“

“Rafe?” James scoffs, “You’re kidding, right?”

“Seriously, man, cut it out,” Rafe repeats, stepping forward just a little as if he’s protecting you, not enough to block you off but enough for you to know that he was there, “I don’t care if you don’t think it’s important, you’re done making her feel bad for things she cares about - do you understand that?”

James lets out a laugh that seems to echo around the room and scratch at your ears, sending an uncomfortable shiver up your spine, “How the hell do you know what she wants? What’s this? The first time you’ve been home in how many years?”

“Yeah, well, good timing I’d call it. Something about some asshole that didn’t realise how lucky he was,” Rafe cocks a brow.

“Rafe…” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re shrinking into the room but he looks back at you and nods just gently, reassuring you. And you’re surprised when it works, settling the fear in your heart.

“So what? You think you come back and know everything about her? Like you’re some sort of knight in shining armour?” James scoffs, “You don’t know jackshit about her, let alone our relationship.”

Rafe laughs and steps away from you, narrowing his eyes at James before letting out a slow breath, shaking his head as he walks the length of the room, “Oh you really are an asshole.”

James doesn’t say anything, watching as Rafe strides the room, a harsh air about him you were sure he hadn’t shown in years, perhaps since he’d last seen you.

“You’re dating a woman like (Y/N) for nine years. Nine years. Nine fucking years you had her there for you - picking up the phone when you’d call, letting you complain about your bad days, not thinking to mention it when your cooking was terrible, always always thinking of you before anything else. And what? That wasn’t good enough?”

“This is nothing to do with you Cameron,” James defends, shifting his stance.

“You hurt (Y/N),” Rafe steps forward until he is less than a foot from James, staring at him coldly, “That means it does have something to do with me. In fact, it has a hell of a lot to do with me.”

You’re watching the scene unfold as if it’s fiction, as if this is a cross between a dream and a nightmare that you were about to wake up from. This Rafe isn’t the same boy that he was with you, he’s never this cold with you. But with someone that had done you wrong? He was a completely different version of himself.

He’s close enough to James now that you’re practically counting down the seconds until he’ll swing a fist at him, it’s inevitable. But you shift in your spot and he glances back to look at you, his eyes softening when they meet with yours. His brows relax and the features of his face do with them, settling into himself a little. His lips smile a little against the tension in his jaw and he takes a deep breath in, turning back to James.

“I don’t know what you’re doing. I don’t know what you think you’re gaining from all of this. But we’re gonna go now,” Rafe’s words don’t shift from their blunt tone, each word feeling calculated and exact, “And you’re going to go to bed, in a house that’s not fully yours, in a bed you used to share. And you’re going to wake up the next morning and the morning after that and again and again, and every time you’ll be on your own. You might not realise it now, maybe not tomorrow or the day after, but you’ll realise it. You’ll realise that every single day you’re waking up without (Y/N) here, you’re missing the one damn thing that made your life worth it.”

He clenches his jaw again and watches as James swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes flicking to you.

“Oh, here it is,” Rafe reaches down to the couch and picks up the toy giraffe you’d been looking for, holding it in his hand, “Good seeing you, James.”

He hits your ex on his chest as if a friendly gesture but it knocks James back just enough for him to be reminded of his place. Rafe looks back at you and offers you the same smile as before, offering you your exit as you make your way over to him. He lets you step in front and places a hand to your back, guiding you out of the house, slamming the door behind the two of you. And for the first time since you’d left this house days ago, you feel alive.

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spooky-bunnys · 1 year ago

Text

Title: The (Last Name)'s

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Pairing: Sebastian x M.R x Sam

Warnings: None

Everything was normal in Pelican Town. Well, until the new farmer moved into Pelican Town. Everyone was confused on why someone from the big city would move to their small town. Especially considering someone people wanted to leave the small town to the big city! They just didn't understand why.

Until they met the new farmer that is. According to Robin, the new farmer was Old (Last Name)'s grandson who had gotten tired of the big city, and wanted to finally wanted to settle down away from the nose and people. Everyone had many expectations and thoughts on how the new farmer would be. Although they were pleasantly surprised when they finally met him.

It didn't take long for (Name) to quickly become the biggest bachelor of Pelican Town. Everyone who was single wanted to be with (Name). They loved how sweet, generous, kind-hearted, and over all his bubbly and helpful personality quickly mad him the town favorite. (Name) was always willing to lend a helping hand to whoever needed it.

He even helped remodel the Pelican Town Community Center. Which ultimately sent the Joja Company packing. Saving Pierre's business from Bankruptcy. He also helped Willy fix his boat, that originally belonged to Willy's grandfather. So you can imagine how happy he was when it was fixed.

Since the boat was fixed the people of Pelican Town was even able to start going to Ginger Island. Where (Name) found the sweetest little boy. That he later adopted with the permission and help of Mayor Louis. When Leo was comfortable enough he moved into (Name)'s farm house.

Although he had a tree house beside Linus's tent in the mountains. Leo also visited the Island some days. Luckily due to all the hard work, (Name) also has a farm and house on the Island. So they went to the Island quite often together.

Something nobody expected was for Sebastian and Sam to end up with the new farmer. It came to a huge surprise to the town people when the trouple got together. They had seen (Name) was close to them, but to think they were all three technically dating? It was something else honestly. They didn't mean anything bad about it.

They'd just haven't had something like this happen in Pelican Town before. But everyone saw how happy they were whenever they were all together. Especially (Name)'s best friend Abigail. She was even their best woman at their wedding. Which was honestly hard to do since you usually can't marry more then one person.

But Mayor Louis made it happen. (Name) had become something of a grandchild to Mayor Louis. Seeing how much happier Pelican Town has become thanks to (Name). He did all he could to help the boys dream to come true. The wedding was small but beautiful.

In a matter of month the new (Last Name) family had three parents and three children. Leo was extremely excited to be an older brother to a pair of twins that the trio adopted. They'd found the twins after one of the bands concerts in the city. There was a boy with blonde hair and (eye color) eyes, and a girl with (hair color) hair and brown eyes.

They were greatly surprised on how they looked like the trouple. It warmed their hearts. They thank Yoda everyday for the life they're living. Because they wouldn't change any of it for the world. Although they maybe wish Leo would stop teaching the twins how to speak bird. Becausenit was cute at first, but who wants to hear that being screamed into your ear at six in the morning.

Not them at least.

#male reader #x male reader #stardew valley #stardew valley x male reader #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley sam #stardew valley sebastian x male reader #stardew valley sam x male reader #poly! x male reader #stardew sebastian #stardew sam #stardew x male reader

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itsohh · 2 months ago

Text

Despite Part 6

A/N: Female reader, I started a new gacha game and its lowkey taken over my life.

Summary: After a long day you finally arrive back at Alberts apartment. Yet the meal he had planned to cook for you is put on hold when you get a bit touchy feely.

Warnings: Smut

Word count: 3328

AO3 Masterlist Part 5 Part 7

The car ride was rather quiet, Wesker didn't talk and you looked out the window. Your mind went to your bike at the station, Albert had work the next day but you didn't. You weren't even on call. Eventually, you would reunite with it but you would have to take a taxi to work. The interaction with Irons was shoved deep down inside of you, just another one to the list.

Albert eventually parked his car underground in the apartment complex where he lived. You could briefly recall going there once but you hadn't stayed long. Without saying anything, you followed his lead and got out of the car. He promptly locked it with the turn of his key and glanced your way. It was a silent communication and the pair of you joined together to walk. Your hand brushed against his for a moment and he didn't seem to react. Normally that would have been a bad thing if it was anyone else. Yet he didn't, the fact that he didn't move away told you all you needed to know.

Testing the waters, your hand brushed against his again but this time your touch lingered. Still, he didn't move it away. Your fingers slid against his and slipped in between them before they curled around the back of his hand. Albert looked away from you but you soon felt his hand recuperate and hold your hand back.

A smile formed on your face and you leaned in against his arm, your face against the top of his arm. “Enjoying yourself?” Albert finally asked when the pair of you reached the elevator. You pulled your head slightly away from him and looked up at him to meet his hidden gaze.

“Mmm, I am, thank you. You smell nice.” His hand was comforting and his cologne made you feel at home. His presence made your body calm and practically melt, there was nowhere safer than by his side.

“Showering will do that.”

A laugh escaped your lips and you rolled your eyes. A thought suddenly ran across your mind and you paused. “Hey, Albert?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Why me?”

“In regards to?”

“Why'd you go out with me in the first place?”

“I enjoy your company. Both professionally and personally.” The elevator came to a stop and it always stunned you a little how fast it was. Albert led the pair of you down the hallway and you could feel his eyes on you the entire time as if he was analysing you.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and the pair of you walked in. The apartment was rather an expensive place. The entire two-floor penthouse was professionally decorated. It was always a sharp contrast from your own place. While your apartment was rather loud and full of personality, Albert's penthouse was a little bit lifeless, almost like a show home. It has a minimalist feel to the place only spruced up by what you assumed were fake potted plants.

Albert placed his keys, sunglasses and wallet onto the tray nearby. It was on the kitchen island that was on the right side of the room. The apartment was rather long, to the right was a white sterile kitchen that reminded you a little bit of a lab. Meanwhile to the left was the living room. It had a large box television that had its own cabinet built into the wall, the thing probably cost a fortune yet you had a feeling that Wesker rarely used it.

The area was separated by the curled metal stairs that led to the top floor. Behind that was a study area that overlooked the rest of the city with the massive windows that spread across the entire wall. The study was where you presumed he spent most of his time, the side wall had a massive custom bookcase filled to the brim with books.

“You're a smart woman.” Albert's voice broke through your thoughts as you sat down at the island to take your shoes off. “Even though you're a Doctor, still many underestimate you. Both your intelligence and physical capability.”

“Well, it's easier to get the advantage when people do. Then again being a woman helps.” You shrugged.

Wesker walked into the kitchen and immediately started to retrieve food from the cupboards and his fridge. “You're too smart for this work.”

“Maybe I'm a bit overqualified in some sense. But I enjoy it, I enjoy working under you. But tell me,” you leaned on the island countertop and he glanced back at you.

“What would you have my occupation be if it wasn’t this?”

“Hmm.” Wesker placed a glass cutting board in front of you and started to expertly chop some chives on it. “Have you considered medical research?” He asked.

“Ah, you used to do that right?”

“You remembered correctly.”

“Mmm is this your subtle way of saying you want me to always work with you?” You teased.

He let out a chuckle but his eyes stayed trained on his hands, careful not to slip as he continued to prepare. “The idea is an enticing one but these days I'd prefer to keep you somewhere safe. Medical research would be good to stimulate your mind but even though I would enjoy you by my side I don't think biotechnology would fit you.”

“And what would fit me?”

“Perhaps forensics? You've never shied from a corpse.”

“Mmm, maybe but I think I'd rather die than go back into any form of academia.”

Wesker finished cutting and his pale blue eyes flashed to yours, it was a little strange and somehow a bit intimate. From the look alone, you could hear his voice ask why inside of your head.

“I despise all the fucking bullshit you have to go through. Having to suck up to professors, having to credit people who didn't even help with papers, I hated it. I hated the stupid elitism and having to constantly fight for my own voice, to be taken seriously. Not in the usual academic way that everyone goes through but…” You let out a sigh and relaxed your hands, letting go of your anger at the past. “Even though it's useful, I hate it that people never take me seriously.”

Albert turned around to use the element on the stove, but you knew he was still listening.

“It's been really refreshing working in S.T.A.R.S.” There was a fondness in your eyes as the confessed. A couple of minutes went by before you silently slipped from the chair. Your feet were light on the kitchen tiles until you were directly behind the man. Slowly you slipped your hands to his sides and then under his arms. If you could see his face you would have seen the curious look to his eyes as you leaned against him and pressed the side of your face into his back.

Albert relaxed into your touch and allowed you to hug him. “It's been really nice working with you Albert. I don't think I could imagine doing anything else at this point, you make me really happy.”

There was a small click and he moved the pot on the element before he started to turn. You let go of him and took a step back until you rested against the island. Albert closed the gap and you aimed your head to look at him. The pair of your eyes looked deep into each other and you could feel your face heat up from his gaze alone.

“So open with your emotions.” He hummed.

“Of course. What's the worst that happens? They aren’t returned? They aren't mutual? I'm a big girl Albert. I can handle rejection. I'd gladly take the risk if it meant my loved ones know I care about them.”

His forehead came forward and rested against your own. “And do you know the weight your words carry? Are you ready for the consequences when they are reciprocated?” His hand found its favourite spot on your cheek. Albert's voice was low, quiet and each word held the weight of the world in them.

“Of course.” You whispered, your lips ghosted against his lips. “I always think before I act.”

He closed the gap and that familiar taste of his lips against yours broke through all your senses. Albert wasn't aggressive or hard as he kissed, no, each moment was slow and controlled. Each touch said a thousand words that he was unable to speak.

Those lips moulded against your own like the pair of you had been born to do so. Two pieces of a now complete puzzle. His warm hand left your face and slid down over your body, erasing every other touch as he did so. It didn't matter who had touched you or why, Albert's hands overrode theirs and claimed you as his own. Your hands balled in his clean shirt and pulled him as close as you possibly could. He was never close enough.

His hands found both sides of your thighs and suddenly lifted you up onto the countertop with ease. The sudden movement had you cry out slightly in surprise but he only grinned into the kiss. At your new height, you dragged your hands up over his shoulder and around the back of his neck.

As you panted out slightly Albert kissed across your face, slow open kisses, and then down to your neck where he assaulted the flesh there. Never lingering long enough to create any marks. “You. Intrigue. Me.” He managed to confess between kisses. “You. Fascinate. Me.”

Your hand buried in the back of his hair but made no effort to stop him. His lips briefly stopped and brushed up from your neck to under your ear, just on your jaw. “No matter how predictable you are or how much I learn about you, I could watch you for a lifetime.” He lightly kissed your flesh and resumed his previous pace. “You. Complete. Me.” Instead of a kiss, he made a small bite that caused you to jump slightly before you moaned into his touch.

“And you're mine.”

You pulled back slightly from the man and grabbed his cheek like he would do to you. Sensing a change, Albert pulled back to look at you in the eye, he was curious as to what you were doing.

“Only if you're mine.” Your hand dropped from his cheek and your pointer finger stuck out and traced down his shirt.

“Of course, dear.” He watched as your finger reached the bottom of his shirt where your index finger joined it. The two fingers grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it slightly. Alone they would be able to do much, only pull at the fabric but Albert got the idea and did the work for you. He promptly grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off with ease to reveal his marble-like body. It was almost a little daunting to look at, not a flaw in sight. Inhumane. On anyone else, it might have ever scared you, but strangely it fit him.

Your eyes took in his form and Albert let you, he seemed happy to watch you watch him. Slowly you touched his bare chest with your hand. Unlike a marble statue, his chest was warm and soft under your touch. “Albert…” You whispered with no intention to continue, any words were lost on your lips. Never had you been one to shy away from sex but there was something about the man that made you hesitate. His eyes were so clear and bare before you like his chest, intimate. His face wasn’t fueled by lust but by care, love even.

The normally cold and emotionless man wouldn't fuck you, he would make love to you and it was then you realized it. And it scared you. Heat in your face made your head throb slightly and your fingers shook slightly. You swallowed and once again touched his face. He was letting you pick the pace, pick what the pair of you did.

Even though you were scared, you continued. Sometimes even though something was scary you didn't let that stop you. Your lips brushed against his and you kissed his bottom lip for a second. “I'll take whatever consequence you give me.”

At your permission, Albert leaned into your touch and his fingers found the buttons on your shirt with ease. His lips connected with yours. Determined not to leave them, he peeled away your shirt without looking, blessed by the buttons that left him to do.

Albert didn't move to touch your sports bra but instead pulled your thighs forward and apart so that he was comfortably set in between them. His hands pushed up your leather skirt upwards so it bunched at your hips. A small moan from your lips was muffled against his when his large hands gripped onto your thighs and massaged them with his thumbs.

He pushed his hands up your thigh and slightly under the very bottom of your skirt where he found your underwear and curled his fingers around them. Slowly he pulled them down and let them fall onto the pristine floor. Again his hands felt their way up your thighs. Just as you thought they would move towards your cunt, he stopped and gripped your thighs tight and then lift you with ease. Albert picked you up against him and your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. A squeal that turned into a laugh had you break away from his lips and you hugged him tight so you didn't fall. Not that he would actually let you fall.

Albert took the pair of you out of the kitchen and carried you up the stairs, you watched the apartment go past your eyes over his shoulder. Each step had his rub against you and you couldn't help the way that a small whimper escaped your mouth. There was no doubt in your mind that he knew exactly what he was doing. Your eyes shut and your thighs tensed against him as you tried everything in your power to prevent yourself from ripping him to bits. You couldn't deny it had been a while.

Your eyes snapped open as you felt the sudden change and you released Albert was gently placing you on his bed. The soft silk soothed your hot skin and Albert pulled back and stood at the end of the bed. He didn't give you much time to look around at the room. Not because he physically restrained you but because you couldn't possibly tear your eyes away from him as he snapped away his belt and undid the zip to his pants.

Albert pushed his pants slightly down to give himself room and did the same with his briefs. There he let himself free and you swallowed at the sight, your mouth dry without his lips to wet them. You had seen a decent amount of cocks in your life but nothing could compare to the pornographic sight of his thick free length. The dip in his hips pointed directly to it. His bush was light, tidy like the rest of him, his cock curled slightly upward and most certainly put most men to shame.

“You’re starring.” Albert teased, there was that curl in his lips. The closest thing to a smile the man could manage. His eyes had been on your face the entire time

“Can you blame me?”

Albert put one knee on the bed and you thought he was going to crawl on top of you but he took you by surprise when he grabbed your legs and pulled them down. He didn't give you enough time to properly let out a squeal as his lips were once again against you, your lips an addiction he wouldn't break. Still, partially off the bed, he pulled your hips into the air so you could grind yourself in his clothed thigh.

The man didn't seem to mind as your arousal spread over his trouser leg. “Please.” You whispered, your hand buried in his hair while your other scraped lightly on his back.

Albert didn't say a thing but pulled his hips back slightly and you felt the warmth of his cock brush against your lips before he slowly pushed in with ease. Your wet cunt sucked him in and stretched greedily around his length without protest. Slowly inch by inch he pushed until he was completely slotted inside of you.

“Albert.” You gripped onto him for dear life and he picked you up and then soun the pair of you so that he sat on the edge of the bed and you were in his lap. It gave him the perfect position to kiss your neck while your chest pressed against his bare chest. You were the one to put your hands behind your back and unclip the bra, its removal had you sigh against him which turned into a quiet moan when he gripped your thighs and rolled your hips against him.

Albert was quiet against you, only small sighs and grunts left his lips. His hands said the words his lips couldn't, the gript you hard almost hard enough to bruise. They held you desperately, almost like he was afraid that if he let you go you would disappear. If he had it his way, those hands were to last on your skin forever. Your bare chest was warmed by his as sweat started to form over the pair of you. That didn't stop him from kissing you, lightly sucking on the skin.

Something wet rolled down your cheeks as he continued to rock you against his cock, his overwhelming cock that had you so utterly filled. Albert paused for a moment and you felt his firm hand on your face. He directed your head to look at him and your eyes opened. “I'm hurting you.” He said it like a statement but you knew it was a question. You shook your head and he wiped away the tears from your face.

A crooked smile spread across your face as you tried to move and make up for the lack of his movement. “Just, ah, a little overwhelming.” You confessed. “But in a good way, don't stop.”

Albert kissed you slowly but resumed helping you grind on his cock. “I don't want to hurt you. Never you.” His voice was quiet, so quiet that you almost didn't hear him. It had you clench around him and you let out a whimper.

The pair of you continued to rock there wrapped up in each other's arms, happy in each other's arms until your nails dug into his skin enough to draw blood but he didn't seem to notice let alone to care as you pressed yourself against him. Again you clenched down around him but this time it was so much harder, a final relief that had built up. In bursts, your cunt quivered around him and he buried his face in your shoulder. His strong arms hugged you tight as he was sent over the edge with you.

Albert continued to move through your climax and his own but didn't pull out even when the pair of you slowed to a still. A content hum left your lips and you rubbed your face against his shoulder.

“I love you Albert, I really do.” Your voice was muffled against him but you know he heard you clearly. He didn't reply but he pulled back and pressed a kiss against your forehead. Fatigue washed over you and you sleepily watched as he removed the skirt from your hips and let them go on the floor. He picked you up with ease and pulled back the sheets of the bed before he put you inside them. Again he planted another kiss against your forehead and you shut your eyes.

#albert wesker x reader #wesker x reader #re x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #wesker x you

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fallingdownhell · 11 months ago

Note

As someone who loves poly relationships and rarepairs, I got something.

May I request a poly between Childe and Ayato with a reader who's a baker? Reader's always making goodies for the boys, especially when they're at work. They want to make sure their lovers are in good health and shape, so they spoil the boys a lot.

Why is this so cute? I never really thought about this ship, and now I can't get it out of my head. Thanks for that, anon xD Pairing: Ayato x Reader x Childe Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; general headcanons; fluff Word count: 824 words Enjoy<3

well, first, let's get the obvious out of the way. Even with you involved, it would take a long time for Ayato and Childe to get along to the point where they don't fantasize about killing the other constantly

I mean, one is a Fatui Harbinger, so it's basically in his job description, and the other is the Head of his Clan, highly respected by his people, and expected to lead them fairly

and yet still, both have fallen madly in love with you. So for your sake, they try and get along, and over time, a genuine bond seems to grow out of it, which makes you all the more happier

since Childe has a lot of travelling to do with his job, it was mutually decided between you three that you would move in at Ayato's estate, and Childe could always come and visit whenever he has free time

Usually, when the Ginger comes around, you spend all of your time either with him alone, or with all of them together. In your eyes, Ayato has you all to himself most of the time, so when Childe is here, you spend as much time with him as possible, to make up for when he was gone

even knowing your job as a baker, the boys discover your passion for baking very early on. Whenever you got some free time to spare, you like to spend it in the kitchen, trying out new recipies that you found

sure, it's part of your job, but they are genuinely happy that you get to live off of your passion. With Ayato gifting you a small shop in Inazuma City that you can design like you want, and Childe declaring few of his underlings as your workers, you're fully equipped to open up a shop of your own, something that you've always dreamed of doing

the boys are just happy to see you all happy and smiling, gushing to them about the plans you have, what you want to put on your menu, etc. They are all smiles when they listen to you, clinging onto every word that leaves your lips

even with all the baking you do at work, you still often come home and head directly to the kitchen, baking some simple cookies or such for your boyfriends, loving when you see their faces light up when they eat your baked goodies

sometimes, Thoma also comes around, drawn in by the smell of it, and he always offers to help you with it, so you can make even larger badges. Wether you take him up on the offer or not, he respects your decision

Childe also likes to help you out from time to time. However, Ayato is no longer allowed in the kitchen. He "helped" you one time, and he put so many weird ingredients in the dough, the brownies tasting so weird that you'd banned him from the kitchen. He sulked about it at first, but came to terms with it. In the end, he still gets to enjoy your baking, so he can deal with it

when Childe tells you that he has to leave again soon, you sometimes bake him stuff that's a bit more durable, so he has something to enjoy during his journey back

days spend with the two of them are either one of two things. They are either the most exciting days you've ever experienced in your life, or they are spend just relaxing and cuddling, trying to make as much of the company you get to share while it lasts

You've experienced many adventures with them, as they are often taking you out to explore the islands of Inazuma, or even to other nations where you get to try as much food as you can

they love to see your face brighten up with excitement and since they both have a lot of money to spend, they love to spoil you by buying things for you. Wether that be food, a shop, juwelery or whatever else it is you wish for. Just say the word and one of them will buy it for you

Gift giving is a big love language for both Ayato and Childe. Childe always brings many presents when he returns from another trip and Ayato surprises you with a gift at least twice a week. It's just how they express their love to you

generally, they treat you very gently and with care. They are both powerful people, but they'd never want you to be afraid of them. They don't care if others think of them as weak for that. For you, they'd gladly be percieved as such if only you are happy

overall, I'd give this relationship dynamic like a solid 7,5-8/10. With both Ayato and Childe, you are very well taken care of and loved. What more could one wish for when having them both as your loving partners?

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #childe x reader #childe x you #childe headcanons #childe x reader headcanons #ayato x reader #ayato x you #ayato headcanons #ayato x reader headcanons #ayato x childe #genshin poly #childe x reader x ayato #childe x you x ayato

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atopvisenyashill · 4 months ago

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THE HISTORY OF MARRIAGE ALLIANCES BETWEEN HOUSE VELARYON AND THE SUMMER ISLANDERS OF ESSOS

The more I think about Corlys and the Dragon Twins as characters, the more I really like the change to book canon that their heritage isn't quite so strictly Valyrian. They seem to be this middle ground between the Celtigars, who imo likely "went native" very quickly, and the Targaryens, who, ya know, *gestures at that mess* because they seem to have more Valyrian marriages and their Valyrian heritage is taken more seriously than the Celtigars.

I settled on this idea that being a house of seafarers, they often intermarry with various Essosi nobles and that’s part of why ~the blood of valyria~ is still strong with them despite not partaking in incestuous marriages; like Larra Rogare or Serenei of Lys, many Essosi do have Valyrian looks and Valyrian heritage and the Velaryons are in a position as adventurers to meet and fall in love with these nobles.

One thing I noticed about the Summer Islands is that they seem to have a healthy diaspora, not just in King’s Landing but in Braavos - Arya mentions Bellegere Otherys still resembling a Summer Islander despite it being several generations since Bellegere Otherys the First. It also seems like there’s Summer Islanders that live long term in Braavos; there's 50 Summer Islanders in the Golden Company, Arya mentions seeing many Summer Islanders, and Sam and Gilly travel on a boat crewed largely by Summer Islanders. This all makes sense world building wise - they're a culture of seafarers and we usually see them at large hubs like King's Landing and Braavos.

So really, folding show canon Corlys into book canon is incredibly easy when you think about the high number of Summer Islanders at port cities. My thought here is - Corlys is a proud man and very insistent on how he built his own fortune, both in the show and in the books. I thought of the type of parents he could have had and settled on a man who becomes angered at the comments he and his mother get for being darker skinned and Essosi/Summer Islander and deciding to just double down by marrying a rich Braavosi Summer Islander. So first Daemon meets a Sumemr Isles princess on his own travels, Salata Xam, and falls in love, then Corwyn, like Corlys, attempts to build a fortune through his own accomplishments, including his marriage to the rich Sarissa Jaedosys, and passes that stubborn streak onto his son.

Then, similar to how Sybell uses her new connections to get her brother some land (though he’s still kinda fucked there lol), and the Lyseni Spring, the House of Jaedosys ("jaedos" means "summer" in Valyrian, so while the family is Braavosi and has considered themselves Braavosi for some time, their house name is a reference to their origins in the Summer Isles) uses their new connection in Westeros to build their own fortunes up as well. Corwyn’s (canon) brother, Victor marries a cousin of Sarissa's, Doreah Jaedosys. In canon, Daemon and Corwyn have several children - Daemon’s names here are all canon (AND he has some daughters), and Corwyn has an unknown amount of kids. I think this explains why there’s so many Black Velaryons - there’s just like, a shitton of Velaryon cousins right now!

So once I established Corlys and his brothers as being mostly Summer Island descent, from there I moved onto who is likely a descendant of the Dragon Twins (and Corlys). For Rhaena’s many daughters, I thought of Targaryen names that sounded Andal-ish/Reacher-ish and Andal names that sounded Targaryen-ish; there's a pattern in the Reach of using the more religious-affiliated Targaryen names as Reacher names (Aemon, Aegon, and Baelor have all come up!) so I think at least part of this is Rhaena's influence. I decided on Alyssa, Leyla, Victaria, Aelora, Denyse, and Rhaella.

I also combined this with my “Elaena marries Baela’s grandson” theory, which I feel makes a lot of sense - not only the Penrose-Valyrian connection and story implications, but notably the name “Laena” is a Velaryon name. I think if Ronnel’s mother was also a Laena, and both of them were half Velaryon, this little bond between them of choosing a Velaryon name for their first born daughter feels very sweet and romantic even. PLUS, if a Targaryen descended girl marries into another house, I can see people wanting to show that off every once in a while through a name. This is why Rhaena’s girls marry a Costayne and a Hightower!

Then I started thinking about the timeline and what was happening politically as all these descendants of Corlys start marrying. Given that the Tarlys were staunch supporters of Rhaenyra, I can see Rhaena wanting to reward that, and Garmund agreeing due to them being a powerful Reacher house. Since there is mention of the Blackfyre Rebellion ~pitting brother against brother~ and the Costaynes sided with Daemon, I thought having a Hightower-Targaryen involved in that mess would be thematically fun; either Aelora sides against her husband or Aelora marries a Costayne that sides against the main branch. Either way, when the rebellion is over, Daeron punishes the main branch Costaynes by taking most of their lands and giving it to Aelora and her daughters. As for Denyse, I thought it would make sense, once again, for her to turn back to the Braavosi Sumer Islanders for a husband; a First Sword of Braavos, perhaps, who use Hightower grey and a pink dragon to represent Denyse's heritage in their sigil.

Also Alyssa Hightower was originally supposed to marry Leo Hightower (Lady Sam and Lyonel's oldest son) but when she found out Leyla was in love with him, she committed herself to the Faith. Why? Because I think that's absolutely hilarious. Septa Alyssa is making Daemon roll over his grave lmao.

#valyrianscrolls #the summer isles #house velaryon #dragon twins #corlys velaryon #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #i guess alyn is here too but i will hold his cheating against him forever sorry #rani graphics #anyways self indulgent family trees: a series of edits by me lmao

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poemadeangels · 5 days ago

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♡ : ㅤ [ ... ]ㅤㅤ ✶ㅤ ㅤ ⠀A DEEP DIVE INTO THE MEMBERS OF VELVETINE.

content warnings. mentions of religion ( catholicism ), death of a parent, child neglect, allusions to child exploitation. let me know if i missed anything!

MOVIE STAR ﹙ . . . ﹚ LIZZY MCALPINE , ✿⠀⠀" i'm special, he sees me / he chose me out of everyone / i feel like a movie star in the leading roll / famous to someone. "

♡ : ㅤ [ ... ]ㅤㅤ ✶ㅤ ㅤ ⠀LEE MINSEO was born to be great. She is the first born of her families latest generation, who were all given names with Min ( 민 ) as their shared character and using the hanja 旼, a promise that all the members would be gentle and affable. However, Minseo is none of those things. As the years progressed, she was given everything at her request, creating a selfish and demanding child that was never satisfied with what she had. Her favorite is to ruin any chance that her younger sister, MINSEUL, gets, including becoming an idol. Minseo was never interested in the idol industry until her sister was, wanting to prove that she would always be the favored sister. Minseo joins Superbloom Media in late 2020, just as they were getting started with the GIBSON GIRL PROJECT, where everyone got to see just how mediocre Minseo is. Despite all of her attempts to earn a name for her own talents, Minseo is more famous for her many, many dating scandals with male idols including Moth Signals' Junyeong ( @smokends ), Deep Dive's Finn (@bluwavez ), Arm Candy's Zion ( @hearthr0b ), LOOPiN's Haegon ( @toointoo ), Carval's Sage ( @misfitcpia ), and Ginger Rabbit's JC ( @saenbit ). When it comes to Minseo, it falls into two black and white camps—you either love her or hate her, and most people tend to hate her scandals and her bad attitude.

STAGENAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀JOVIE / 조비.

BIRTHNAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀LEE MINSEO / 이민서.

BIRTHYEAR , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀MAY 22, 2000.

BIRTHPLACE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

COMPANY , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SUPERBLOOM MEDIA.

POSITION , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀VOCALIST, VISUAL.

FACECLAIM , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀KIM MINJEONG.

BLOODHAIL ﹙ . . . ﹚ HAVE A NICE LIFE , ✿⠀⠀" can’t you see it’s all flown out of my hands? / and our clothes are all too often ripped / and our teeth are all too often gnashed / and it lasts as long as it possibly can. "

♡ : ㅤ [ ... ]ㅤㅤ ✶ㅤ ㅤ ⠀YOON SEORA was born in a COMMUNE near Sehwa Beach on Jeju Island, though she often spent summers in the different major cities of South Korea on missions from a young age. Legally, the commune is known as In Vino Veritas—meaning in wine, there is truth—but is often shortened to INVINO colloquially. She moved to Seoul in 2018 to pursue her dreams of being an idol singer and following in the footsteps of Girls' Generation and Red Velvet, landing her at SM ENTERTAINMENT for two years. She would be kicked out of the company in 2020 for unknown reasons, but taken in by Superbloom Media very quickly after and the concept of Velvetine was almost built around her preferences. During GIBSON GIRLS, she would constantly be fighting against ODESSA to earn her place as the main vocalist of the group and her fluid dance moves would earn her the title of CENTER. Seora has a spotless record, though many report having weird interactions with the girl during fan calls and award shows. She was given the role of LEADER by Superbloom Media because all the girls seemed to look to Seora for guidance on every little action, whether it's choosing dinner or how they should sing their parts, she is always there to watch over them.

STAGENAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀COELLA / 조비.

BIRTHNAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀YOON SEORA / 이민서.

BIRTHYEAR , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀JANUARY 17, 2001.

BIRTHPLACE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀JEJU ISLAND, SOUTH KOREA.

COMPANY , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SUPERBLOOM MEDIA.

POSITION , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀LEADER, MAIN VOCALIST, CENTER.

FACECLAIM , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀JEON HEEJIN.

BEGGING FOR RAIN ﹙ . . . ﹚ MAGGIE ROGERS , ✿⠀⠀" i try my best to not be bitter / give my rage a babysitter / stop waiting for the adults to come home / it’s a firework and you can’t stop it. "

♡ : ㅤ [ ... ]ㅤㅤ ✶ㅤ ㅤ ⠀AMORET YAWSON was supposed to inherit her family’s travel empire. She was promised the company and much more from a young age by her father, however, when he died in 2015 and left the business in the hands of her older step-brother, AMORET moved in with her MATERNAL GRANDPARENTS in Brussels, Belgium. The move was hard on the girl as she went from living lavishly to having to help support them and their failing restaurant in the city. Her mother had been born into the poor family but due to her intelligence and beauty, made a name for herself in the business world and that was where she met Amoret's father. However, her mother would die of breast cancer when Amoret was seven and her father was quick to remarry, FRACTURING Amoret's relationship with them. Rather than spending time with his only daughter, she was pawned off to nannies and other caretakers, who seemed to care more about Amoret than her father did. Inspired by the members of MOTH SIGNALS, she joined Superbloom Media to run away from her previous life and hopefully become something bigger than her own father. Despite her few talents, Amoret's DETERMINATION won the fans and company over leading to her eventual debut in Velvetine.

STAGENAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀AMORET / 아모레.

BIRTHNAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀AMORET GENEVIÈVE YAWSON.

BIRTHDATE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀FEBRUARY 14, 2001.

BIRTHPLACE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀WALLONIA, BELGIUM.

COMPANY , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SUPERBLOOM MEDIA.

POSITION , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀LEAD DANCER, VOCALIST.

FACECLAIM , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀MANON BANNERMAN.

LIQUID SMOOTH ﹙ . . . ﹚ MITSKI , ✿⠀⠀" i'm liquid smooth / and feel my skin is plump and full of life / i'm in my prime / i'm liquid smooth, come touch me too. "

♡ : ㅤ [ ... ]ㅤㅤ ✶ㅤ ㅤ ⠀MING XUEYAO has been on her own since she was twelve years old. Her parents, due to DEBT because of her father's health issues, worked overtime to keep their lives together and once she was old enough, Xueyao was left to fend for herself. She was never taken to the doctors or dentist and often late for school because of her parents hectic schedules. In 2016, she would apply for various South Korean entertainment companies behind her parents back and eventually sign with BLOCKBERRY CREATIVE that same year. After training for two years, she would make her debut in PRODUCE 48 under her original company and go onto rank SEVENTH, becoming one of IZ*ONE's most beloved members. She looks back on this time period fondly and often expresses missing her original group despite how close Velvetine seem to be. Like Coella, the Velvetine lineup was created with her in mind as she signed with SUPERBLOOM MEDIA following IZ*ONE's disbandment in April 2021. She would re-debut in OCTOBER 2022 and her popularity has helped bring Velvetine to the forefront of the entire industry, giving her old fans incentive to support this new group.

STAGENAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀XUEYAO / 설야오.

BIRTHNAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀MING XUEYAO / 明雪瑶.

BIRTHDATE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀JUNE 8, 2002.

BIRTHPLACE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀BEIHAI, GUANGXI, CHINA.

COMPANY , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SUPERBLOOM MEDIA.

POSITION , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀MAIN DANCER, LEAD RAPPER, VOCALIST.

FACECLAIM , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀ZHOU XINYU.

I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME ﹙ . . . ﹚ FIONA APPLE , ✿⠀⠀" and i know none of this will matter in the long run / but i know a sound is still a sound around no one / and while i'm in this body / i want somebody to want / and i want what i want / and i wanted you to love me. "

♡ : ㅤ [ ... ]ㅤㅤ ✶ㅤ ㅤ ⠀LEE MINSEUL was born in the shadow of her older sister, MINSEO. Given the same beginning character as her, Minseul seems to represent the desired qualities of someone GENTLE and AFFABLE as one of the most beloved idols of the fourth generation. However, she is the perpetual OUTSIDER, never truly having a place in a world dominated by her sister. Idol training was supposed to be the one thing she could hold onto and have as her own, so when Minseo joined Superbloom Media just two months after she did, Minseul promised herself that she would NEVER speak to her sister again. She was tired of always having to take second place to Minseo and just needed to debut before her, she would do that easily. Due to their HOSTILE relationship, the trainers kept them away from each other until THE GIBSON GIRL PROJECT, where they would be paired together to debut in 2021. Minseul was in talks with Superbloom to end her exclusive contract with them until they promised that Minseo would be kept away for the good of everyone. On screen, they often BICKER, leaving many fans to take their "side" in the whole situation, most leaning towards MINSEUL. Alongside Yulli, she has become one of stan twitter's famous idols for her over the top reactions and willingness to share fun stories about her members at all times.

STAGENAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀MINSEUL / 민슬.

BIRTHNAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀LEE MINSEUL / 이민슬.

BIRTHDATE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀NOVEMBER 29, 2002.

BIRTHPLACE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

COMPANY , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SUPERBLOOM MEDIA.

POSITION , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀MAIN DANCER, LEAD RAPPER, VOCALIST.

FACECLAIM , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀BAE SUMIN.

FAMILY TREE — INTRO﹙ . . . ﹚ ETHEL CAIN , ✿⠀⠀" the fates already fucked me sideways / swinging by my neck from the family tree / he'll laugh and say "you know i raised you better than this" / then leave me hanging so they all can laugh at me. "

♡ : ㅤ [ ... ]ㅤㅤ ✶ㅤ ㅤ ⠀KWAK YULLI's life changed for the worst when she moved to Boston, Massachusetts with her older sisters to learn English. The only good memory was meeting her childhood best friend—OLIVER SONG—through the afterschool YMCA program that babysat them until their guardians came to pick them up. She stayed with a very traditional ROMAN CATHOLIC family, who would place her in their choir program where she learned to sing. Rather than feeling welcomed by the family, she felt like a BURDEN and recalls often feeling LEFT OUT and made to feel “DIFFERENT” from them. After almost five years of no communication, the pair would reconnect when Yulli signed with SUPERBLOOM MEDIA in 2019 and become fast friends again. Even before her debut, she would become a WELL-KNOWN TRAINEE because of this connection and so many people wanted to see what she brought to the table. However, the Yulli that joined Superbloom was completely different than the girl from Boston. She was much more withdrawn and largely unexcited about her prospects in life, just trying to make music she is proud of. Alongside AMORET, YULLI is one of two members that holds SONGWRITING or PRODUCING credits on their music. She is known for her interesting style that blends real world themes with their bubblegum pop and cute concept, showing the things that bring one down in a unique light.

STAGENAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀YULLI / 율리.

BIRTHNAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀KWAK YULLI / 곽율리.

OTHERNAMES , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀GEMMA KWAK.

BIRTHDATE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀DECEMBER 1, 2002.

BIRTHPLACE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

COMPANY , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SUPERBLOOM MEDIA.

POSITION , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀LEAD VOCALIST, LEAD DANCER.

FACECLAIM , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀OH HAEWON.

GREAT EXPECTATIONS ﹙ . . . ﹚ THE OUTSIDERS OBC , ✿⠀⠀" all these great expetations / meet these grave revelations / am i the one in control? / is it all predetermined? / am i playing a role / part of a story foretold? "

♡ : ㅤ [ ... ]ㅤㅤ ✶ㅤ ㅤ ⠀ODESSA SERRANO only knows being on stage. She made her first appearance at only six years old in the Broadway Revival production of RAGTIME as Tateh's daughter, simply known as THE LITTLE GIRL. As she progressed through school, she would spend her summer vacation on the main stages of New York floating through shows like Les Misérables and Tuck Everlasting. She became interested in the idol industry when TWICE came to Newark, New Jersey in 2019 for their TWICELIGHTS World Tour. She would leave the concert a big fan of NAYEON and SANA and wanted to emulate how well they played with the fans on stage. She auditioned for almost twenty different companies and in a fit of desperation, joined the relatively unknown SUPERBLOOM MEDIA in a few months later. She would quickly become beloved by Superbloom because of her strong vocals and stage presence, even if the dance skills seemed to come harder for her. Odessa would never give up and would return to New York in six month increments to perform in Broadway shows such as The Lightning Thief as ANNABETH CHASE and the Boradway debut of Bare: A Pop Opera as IVY ROBINSON. This trend continues when Velvetine is not promoting, allowing her the most freedom of all the members.

STAGENAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀ODESSA / 오데사.

BIRTHNAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀ODESSA LYNN SERRANO.

BIRTHDATE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀MARCH 17, 2003.

BIRTHPLACE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀NEW YORK CITY, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

COMPANY , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SUPERBLOOM MEDIA.

POSITION , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀MAIN VOCALIST.

FACECLAIM , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀OLIVIA RODRIGO.

LETTER TO MY 13 YEAR OLD SELF ﹙ . . . ﹚ LAUFEY , ✿⠀⠀" you'll grow up / and grow so tough and charm them / write your story, fall in love a little too / the things you thought you'd never do / i wish i could go back and give her a squeeze / myself at thirteen. "

♡ : ㅤ [ ... ]ㅤㅤ ✶ㅤ ㅤ ⠀TOKIKO NANAKA always wanted to be an idol. She dreamed of SHARING the STAGE with her favorite idols and looking that beautiful on stage. However, due to her family’s poor economic condition, she was UNABLE to join one of the training academies and was going to give up on the dream until being street casted by Superbloom Media in 2017 while visiting Seoul. She was supposed to debut as a member of SOULVIA that next year, however, that would fall through as the higher-ups did not believe she was ready. Seeing that she needed something else to help stand out against the other girls, she would learn anything she could get her hands on. From instruments to calligraphy, TOKIKO worked day and night to prepare herself in every category of idolhood, even beginning to write her own music in 2020. Her chance would finally come with THE GIBSON GIRL PROJECT, where Tokiko would become a fan favorite for her PURITY and INNOCENCE. She is the PERFECT follower, never rocking the boat too much and remaining cool under the pressure of the company.

STAGENAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀KIRIE / 키리.

BIRTHNAME , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀NANAKA TOKIKO / ナナカトキコ.

BIRTHDATE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀JULY 31, 2003.

BIRTHPLACE , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀NAGOYA, JAPAN.

COMPANY , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SUPERBLOOM MEDIA.

POSITION , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀VOCALIST, MAKNAE.

FACECLAIM , ⠀⠀★⠀⠀SAKAI MOKA.

#⠀ ౨ৎ ⠀⠀ ♡ ⠀⠀ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ give back my girlhood ── member profiles #fictional kpop community #fictional idol oc #fictional idol community #fictional kpop idol #fictional idol group #idolverse #idol oc #fake kpop group #kpop oc #kpop au #fictional idol company #fictional kpop oc #fictional kpop soloist #fake idol community #fake idol oc #fake idol soloist #fake kpop idol

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camisoledadparis · 13 days ago

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 24

1305 – France: Grand Master Jacques de Molay and over 500 Knights Templar recant their confessions of homosexual activities to which they had admitted under torture. King Phillip IV burned 54 of them soon after the false confessions. Philip had de Molay burned upon a scaffold on an island in the River Seine in front of Notre Dame de Paris in March, 1314. The sudden end of both the centuries-old order of Templars and the dramatic execution of its last leader turned Molay into a legendary figure.

1573 – French diplomat and law professor Hubert Languet wrote to Sir Philip Sidney, "My affection for you has entered my heart far more deeply than I have ever felt for anyone else, and it has so wholly taken possession there that it tries to rule alone."

Sir Philip Sidney

1905 – Howard Hughes Jr. (d.1976) was a USA business magnate, investor, record-setting pilot, engineer, film director, and philanthropist, known during his lifetime as one of the most influential and financially successful individuals in the world. He first became prominent as a film producer, and then as an important figure in the aviation industry.

Later in life, he became known for his eccentric behavior and reclusive lifestyle—oddities that were caused in part by his worsening obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), chronic pain from a near-fatal plane crash, and increasing deafness.

Hughes dated many famous women, including Joan Crawford, Billie Dove, Faith Domergue, Bette Davis, Yvonne De Carlo, Ava Gardner, Olivia de Havilland, Katharine Hepburn, Hedy Lamarr, Ginger Rogers, Janet Leigh, Pat Sheehan, Mamie Van Doren and Gene Tierney. He also proposed to Joan Fontaine several times.However, a rumour persists that Hughes and another notorious womanizer Errol Flynn had a sexual relationship, with Flynn at the top man!

1912 – A report issued by Utah's State Board of Insanity recommends sterilization of persons convicted of sexual crimes.

Robert Joffrey (rear) with Gerald Arpino

1930 – Robert Joffrey, born Abdullah Jaffa Bey Khan, (d.1988) was an American dancer, teacher, producer, choreographer, and co-founder of the Joffrey Ballet, known for his highly imaginative modern ballets. He was born Abdullah Jaffa Bey Khan in Seattle, Washington to an Afghan father and Italian mother.

As a teenager, Joffrey met 22-year-old Gerald Arpino, then serving in the Coast Guard. Arpino moved into the Joffrey home. From then on, the two were inseparable. They became best friends, artistic collaborators, and lovers.

Joffrey studied ballet and modern dance in New York City and made his debut in 1949 with the French choreographer Roland Petit and his Ballet de l'Opéra National de Paris. From 1950 to 1955, he taught at the New York High School for the Performing Arts, where he staged his earliest ballets. He founded the Joffrey Ballet School in New York City in 1954.

In 1954 he formed his own company, which premiered Le bal masqué (The Masked Ball, 1954; music by French composer Francis Poulenc) and Pierrot Lunaire (1955; music by Austrian composer Arnold Schoenberg). Joffrey's other works include Gamelan (1962) and Astarte (1967), which was set to rock music with special lighting and motion-picture effects.

The Robert Joffrey Ballet took up residence at New York City Center in 1966. In 1982 it moved its principal activities to Los Angeles, California and in 1995 to Chicago, Illinois. Noted for its experimental repertoire, the company was called the "Joffrey Ballet of Chicago" after its move but has since returned to being called simply the Joffrey Ballet. Besides Joffrey's works its repertoire includes many works by Gerald Arpino, Joffrey's long-time lover, co-director, and eventually artistic director emeritus until his 2008 death, and ballets commissioned by Joffrey from new choreographers as well as works by such established choreographers as George Balanchine, Alvin Ailey and Twyla Tharp.

Joffrey was sexually promiscuous but discreet. His pattern was to have Arpino at home for domestic stability, one principal romantic attachment, and numerous one-night stands.

In 1973, Joffrey fell in love with A. Aladar Marberger, a 26-year-old gay activist and manager of the Fischbach Gallery in New York. In the 1980s, both men contracted AIDS. While Marberger was outspoken about his illness, Joffrey remained silent. He was ashamed and wanted his obituary to say that he died of liver disease and asthma. Arpino agreed to his pleas, but the secret could not be maintained, as AIDS took a staggering toll on the dance world in general and on Joffrey's company in particular.

Robert Joffrey died of AIDS on March 25, 1988 in New York City. Aladar Marberger died eight months later.

1952 – Kevin Killian is an American poet, author, editor, and playwright of primarily LGBT literature. My Vocabulary Did This to Me: The Collected Poetry of Jack Spicer, which he co-edited with Peter Gizzi, won the American Book Award for poetry in 2009. His novel, Impossible Princess, won the 2010 Lambda Literary Award as the best gay erotic fiction work of 2009.

Killian is also co-founder of the Poets Theater, an influential poetry, stage, and performance group based in San Francisco.

Kevin Killian was raised Roman Catholic and attended a Roman Catholic parochial school run by Franciscan monks where he suffered what he has described as "routine abuse". He discussed these experiences in an essay in the edited work Wrestling With the Angel, which describes the experiences of 21 gay men with religion. He was also the New York City spelling bee champion.

Kevin attended graduate school at the State University of New York at Stony Brook (SUNY-Stony Brook) in the 1970s, and moved to San Francisco in 1980. Although he is gay and Dodie Bellamy is a lesbian, the couple married and have an active heterosexual sex life.

Killian is also active in bringing attention to important LGBTQ artists and writers of the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s. He has held poetry readings of a wide number of influential poets and writers, and participated in a number of panels, art installations, retrospectives, and memorials.

1958 – Bob Smith (d.2018) was an American comedian and author. Smith, born in Buffalo, New York, was the first openly gay comedian to appear on The Tonight Show and the first openly gay comedian to have his own HBO half-hour comedy special. Smith, along with fellow comedians Jaffe Cohen and Danny McWilliams, formed the comedy troupe Funny Gay Males in 1988.

With Funny Gay Males, Smith is the co-author of Growing Up Gay: From Left Out to Coming Out (1995). Smith is also the author of two books of biographical essays. Openly Bob (1997) received a Lambda Literary Award for best humor book. Way to Go, Smith! (1999) was nominated for a 2000 Lambda Literary Award in the same category. Smith published his first novel, Selfish and Perverse, in 2007, and Remembrance of Things I Forgot in 2011. He published a new collection of essays, Treehab: Tales from My Natural Wild Life, in 2016. The essays cover a wide range of subjects including his career in stand-up, his love of nature, and his experience with ALS. He performed at the inaugural We're Funny That Way! comedy festival in 1997, and appeared in the festival's documentary film in 1998.

While taping a 2007 comedy special for Logo, Smith disclosed that he was suffering from a neurological disorder. He described his symptoms at that time as slurred speech, making him sound inebriated. In response to an August 2012 New York Times article on openly gay male stand-up comedians, Smith posted a comment stating he had ALS.

On February 2013, Smith gave a candid interview to Canada's Global News, where he elaborated about his condition. The article also revealed that Smith assisted with the conceiving of fellow LGBTQ comedian Elvira Kurt's children, who with Kurt reside in Canada, and that he was a direct descendant of Henry Smith, an early settler of Canada's Niagara Region for whom the Henry of Pelham Winery is named.

Bob Smith died on January 20, 2018 from Lou Gehrig’s Disease in his Manhattan, New York home at 59 years of age.

1971 – On this date the international singer and actor Ricky Martin was born. Born Enrique Martín Morales in San Juan, Puerto Rico, he is known to millions of fans by his stage name Ricky Martin, is a Puerto Rican pop singer and actor who achieved prominence, first as a member of the Latin boy band Menudo, then as a solo artist after 1991. During his career he has sold more than 60 million albums worldwide. He is the founder of Ricky Martín Foundation (in Spanish Fundación Ricky Martin) a non-profit charity organization.

Martin rose to fame as a member of the Latin American boy band Menudo, after which he became a solo artist in 1990. During forays into acting on Broadway ("Les Miserables") and soap operas (General Hospital) he released numerous albums of Spanish music, which sold millions of copies throughout Latin America and Europe. In 1995, Martin refocused on his music career through his third album, A Medio Vivir. With this album, Martin made a shift from formulaic hit ballads to a more risky fusion of music centered around traditional Latin sounds, with the hit "Maria", which epitomizes this new sound. "Maria" broke Martin into Europe through Spain. With the ballad "Te Extraño, Te Olvido, Te Amo", Martin began his expansion from Latin American and Spanish-speaking audiences to the European and Asian markets. He was chosen to sing the anthem of the 1998 FIFA World Cup, the famous hit "The Cup of Life"/"La Copa de la Vida", that reached number one on the charts in 60 countries.

He broke into the English-language market with his mega-selling hit single "Livin' la Vida Loca," which reached number one in many countries around the world, including the United States, the United Kingdom, Argentina, Australia, Brazil, France, Greece, India, Israel, Italy, Japan, Guatemala, Mexico, Russia, Turkey, and South Africa. He followed up with the hit "She's All I Ever Had" which peaked at #2 on The Billboard Hot 100. This album became one of the top-selling albums of 1999, and was certified 7 times platinum, selling over 22 million copies worldwide to date.

During the Livin' la Vida Loca era, Martin's personal life went under the microscope due to his large Gay following, and he was questioned about his sexual orientation. In December, 2000 during an interview in The Mirror, Martin was asked, '"So what about all these rumors?" "There's not a lot I can do about that," he said. "I guess these rumors were started by people who don't have a life, or perhaps it's because they want me to be like them and I'm not. I try not to pay attention to any of these allegations. I could have been married with kids for years or have 27 girlfriends, and if people still want to go around saying that I'm gay, they will."'

In August 2008, Martin became the father of twin boys, named Matteo and Valentino. The babies were delivered via gestational surrogacy.

On March of 2010, Martin publicly came out as Gay in a post on his official web site by stating, "Today is my day, this is my time, and this is my moment. These years in silence and reflection made me stronger and reminded me that acceptance has to come from within and that this kind of truth gives me the power to conquer emotions I didn't even know existed ... I am proud to say that I am a fortunate homosexual man. I am very blessed to be who I am."

"What will happen from now on? It doesn't matter. I can only focus on what's happening to me in this moment. The word 'happiness' takes on a new meaning for me as of today. It has been a very intense process. Every word that I write in this letter is born out of love, acceptance, detachment and real contentment. Writing this is a solid step towards my inner peace and vital part of my evolution."

In January 2018, Ricky Martin married his long-time partner artist Jwan Yosef.

Ricky and Jwan

1973 – Paul Foot is an English comedian. He commands a significant cult following called The Guild of Connoisseurs. Foot is known for his musings, rants, 'disturbances' and apparent aversion to pop culture. The Daily Express likened Foot to "a rare exotic bird", whilst six national newspapers including the The Independent and The Age have declared Paul to be "a comedy genius".

Foot was born and raised in High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, he studied mathematics at Merton College, Oxford.It was during his studies he first started performing stand-up. As of 2011 Foot has refused to discuss his years at Oxford or former pursuits as a mathematics student.

Graduating from Oxford in 1995, Foot was head-hunted by a computer software company in the run-up to the dot-com bubble, however he loathed the industry: "I had to read manuals on HTML and just write websites from scratch. None of us really knew what we were doing".

He started to pursue a career in comedy, doing open mic slots at various venues, in the hope that show business would allow him to meet his idol Ella Fitzgerald. Tragically Ella Fitzgerald died a few days after this decision was made, but Foot decided to stick with comedy as a career anyhow.

He is openly gay. Foot also has a much admired collection of pre-war Toby jugs, which he parades on a custom made milk float on his yearly trip to the Edinburgh Comedy Festival.

1981 – Chris Kluwe is a former American football punter and writer. Kluwe played at Los Alamitos High School in Los Alamitos, California, where he was a 1999 USA Today High School All-American, and then attended the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), where he played college football for the UCLA Bruins. He was signed by the Seattle Seahawks as an undrafted free agent in 2005 and played professionally in the National Football League for the Seattle Seahawks, Minnesota Vikings, and Oakland Raiders.

Kluwe is widely known for his eight seasons with the Minnesota Vikings, where he set eight individual team records. During this period, Kluwe became an outspoken advocate on social issues, including same sex marriage and gay rights, which ultimately led to tension between Kluwe and coaching staff.

Kluwe publicly released a letter on September 7, 2012, via sports website Deadspin he had sent to Maryland state assembly delegate Emmett Burns, defending the opinions of Baltimore Ravens linebacker Brendon Ayanbadejo and condemning Burns on his attempt to stifle Ayanbadejo's free speech. Ayanbadejo has been a vocal supporter of same-sex marriage and Burns had sent a letter requesting that the Ravens ownership "inhibit such expressions" by their employee. On October 1, 2012, Kluwe published a letter to the editor that responded to a video statement released by former Viking Matt Birk in supporting a ban on same-sex marriage. In the letter, Kluwe outlined six primary reasons why he disagreed with Birk's statement. Kluwe was also featured in a documentary called The Last Barrier which aired on NBC Bay Area on December 8, 2012. During this interview he spoke about his feelings towards equality.

Kluwe and Ayanbadejo filed an amicus brief to the United States Supreme Court on February 28, 2013, regarding Hollingsworth v. Perry, in which they expressed their support of the challenge to California Proposition 8. Kluwe appeared on the January 18, 2013, episode of The Ellen DeGeneres Show, to discuss his support of same-sex marriage. Ellen DeGeneres inducted Kluwe as the first inductee in her Hall of Fame, since NFL punters are unlikely to be voted into the league's hall of fame. On April 16, 2013, in recognition of his steadfast support of same-sex marriage and for starting a conversation about LGBT issues in athletics, Kluwe was named the Grand Marshal of the 41st annual Twin Cities Pride festival in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

On January 2, 2014, Kluwe alleged that he was released from the Vikings due to his support of same-sex marriage. He stated that the Vikings requested that he "deliberately sacrifice my own numbers to help the team, a request with which I always complied." The team stated it was not previously made aware of Kluwe's allegations, and countered that he "was released strictly based on his football performance." Kluwe said that special teams coach Mike Priefer in 2012 made homophobic remarks and criticized the player for his views on same-sex marriage. Priefer responded with a statement saying that "I do not tolerate discrimination of any type and am respectful of all individuals. I personally have gay family members who I love and support just as I do any family member.” Kluwe called the coach's acts "inexcusable", and hoped he prevented Priefer from ever coaching again. He also alleged that head coach Leslie Frazier told him to stop speaking out on same-sex marriage. Kluwe later said his comments on Priefer were "a little too harsh originally", and stated that he preferred that the coach get therapy and counseling and return to the league as a role model.

Kluwe was released by the Vikings after the 2012 season, signed with the Oakland Raiders prior to the 2013 season, and was subsequently released. Kluwe was unable to find another NFL team with which to sign and retired from professional football in 2013. Following his departure from football, he has pursued a writing career and is a humor columnist for the sports website Deadspin.

2012 – The Serbian Parliament approves changes to the Penal Code to include sexual orientation and gender identity as protected classes when it comes to hate crimes.

2013 – Alan Turing considered the father of computer science, was a code-breaker who helped shorten WWII. Since he was gay, the British government offered him the choice of prison or chemical castration after he was convicted of gross indecency. He selected hormonal castration via estrogen. He died in 1954 of cyanide poisoning. In 2009, Prime Minister Gordon Brown made an official apology, and Queen Elizabeth II issued Turing a royal pardon on this day in 2013.

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ishanijasmin · 6 months ago

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alive alive

contemplating the living forces of nature, thinking about life beyond biology (the layperson's perspective)

i have been thinking a lot about how the earth is alive. maybe even how the world is alive. like, alive alive. the all-singing, all-dancing, moving, caressing, feeling, vibing atmosphere that we have all found ourselves in. the twinkle of the stars, the erosion of a cliff face, the coming and going of the seasons, the whip of the wind, the rise and fall of the sea, the trickle of a stream. so much of the earth is not what we regard as being alive, and i find it fundamentally unusual that we reserve the idea of life for things that manifest in a specific way. i’m not a biologist, and the science of the universe baffles me. but i don’t know how to stand at the edge of an ocean, my feet slowly being consumed by the waves, wet silt building slowly around my ankles to stabilise me, without thinking, ‘what is this, if not alive?’ what does the ocean do if not soothe? what do the cliffs do if not hold?

last week i took a boat trip to berlenga island, just off the coast of lisbon. i am always humbled by the ocean—by its vastness, and as someone for whom the titanic is always in mind, by its mercy. on the journey back to the hotel, i sat on the floating front of the prow of our little boat for a while and let my legs dangle, watching the waves, and it was as close as you can probably be to riding the sea.

as i got progressively more queasy, i followed the patterns for a long time, and i couldn’t really figure out which direction anything moved in, including myself. lost at sea, immeasurably. so later, i looked it up. did you know waves move in circles? you probably did. i didn’t. i have absolutely no idea how these natural processes work. if i were in an ancient civilisation, i would get hit by wind exactly one time before being like, ‘wow, this is witchcraft, i’m doomed.’ wind: caused by the varying pressures in the atmosphere? hot air rises and cold air rushes in? a mystery! feels plenty alive to me! why does it hit my face the way it does—why some days the gentle stroke of a breeze on my sweaty back in the summer, and others a force big enough to move oceans? why at the same time? lisbon is a particularly significant place to be thinking about this: a city plighted by earthquake, great fire, and tsunami in a matter of hours, and left to rebuild from the wreckage.

i’ve had this in over my head experience with windsurfing and paragliding, as well. the wind, never tamed, but understood by people who’ve been observing it for a lifetime and who still prefer to use modern technology to double check their voyages are safe. a respect and a fear instilled by regarding these changes around us as almost alive. almost.

it’s not that i don’t trust scientists when they explain simple geological concepts to me—i suppose it’s like intellectually knowing something rather than intrinsically knowing it deep, deep in your bones. how can you demystify that? how can the winds—the oceans, the lakes, the tectonic plates, the rock formations and volcanoes—how can they not be alive? they are growing, shrinking, subsisting and existing like all of us, not just to hold life as an ecosystem, but as motion in themselves—erosion, weathering, death and becoming.

i have been reading braiding sweetgrass of late, which is where a good deal of thinking about this comes from. in the book (at least the half of it i’ve read so far), kimmerer talks a lot about the reciprocity between people and land, and the idea that we are all alive and that the earth, the sky, the land and its processes are not a dead ‘it’ while we are an alive ‘they’. the earth is being all the time and so am i and so are we all, and it’s kind of hard to think about and also to not think about.

where am i with all this? breathing through the crushing feeling in my chest that has kept me company every day since i can remember; thinking about doing laundry, about growing a flower trail up the side of my apartment that the kids next door won’t prick themselves on, on getting rid of the fungus gnats that are plaguing a couple of my plants, about my husband who has a headache and is squinting, about recharging. the ecology and community of self is as alive as anything else. dwelling on the world and where we all fit into it and how to preserve ourselves and each other—the human each other, the animal each other, the plant each other, the tectonic plate rock formation beach gravestone church road brick wall limestone cliff fossilised shell firewood smelted and mined ring earthquake each other.

#long reads #spilled ink #writing #rejects corner #nature #essay

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viesantewrites · 10 months ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

(𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Robert Fischer (Inception) x Reader

note: Hey guys, I‘ve rewritten this story a bit and decided to post it on my sideblog. I've changed some of the themes and also that the main character is no longer an OC named Victoria, but the reader. I think this story is kinda difficult to write, which is why I've rewritten it several times. I love plots like Shutter Island and tried to do something similar here & it‘s also a story about parasocial relationships and unrequited love. I think this is my darkest story and the one that stays with me the most, even years after I wrote it…

summary: The reader is hopelessly in love with her boss Robert Fischer, but he doesn't seem to be interested in her. By an unexpected coincidence, they meet in the city and his sudden intense affection for her confuses her. The reader begins to suspect that something is wrong, and when she finally uncovers the truth about her encounters with Fischer the heartbreaking reality is revealed to her.

you don‘t have to watch the movie to understand the story.

age gap, but the characters are both adults. Robert is 37-39, is divorced and has a child. The reader is about 28/29.

word count: 5000+

warnings: topics like mental illness, depression, this is a quite dark and heavy story

It was just half past seven when she heard the familiar footsteps in the corridor approaching the office next door. A key was inserted into the lock and a moment later the door opened.

Glancing around to make sure her workspace wasn't too messy, she threw an old paper cup into the bin before her boss poked his head through the door.

"Good morning, Miss YLN, so busy already?" he asked with a tired smile. "It doesn't reflect well on me as a boss to have my assistant here before me. I'm sorry, Monday mornings are always a bit stressful for me."

"No problem, Mr Fischer. I've already sorted the mail for you, it's on your desk," she said kindly, watching him as he took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack, a little damp from the rain.

"Thank you, I can count on you."

He was a very elegant, handsome man, about ten years her senior, with dark hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones and an elegant black suit. She must have stared at him a little too long, because he turned to her with a questioning smile.

Immediately her cheeks flushed and she turned back to her computer screen, but by then Mr Fischer had already approached her and put some documents on her desk. "Please scan them all and email them to Mr Parker, he's been waiting for them for days," he said to her. "It would be best if we sat down together later and quickly discuss my tasks for today, there is a lot to do. If I'm not mistaken, I have a client meeting at three today."

"At two, sir," she corrected him, handing him a planner with today's date thickly underlined.

He started to grin. "You see, this is exactly why I have an assistant."

Fischer disappeared into his office.

She sighed slightly and went to work scanning the documents. She had been working for Fischer Morrow, one of the world's largest energy companies, for barely a month. Their headquarters had moved from Sydney to London after the death of their CEO, Maurice Fischer. Her current boss, Robert Fischer, was a direct descendant.

She liked Fischer Jr a lot. He was friendly, supportive and didn't get angry when things didn't go to plan. But in some ways he always seemed so unapproachable. For example, he never talked about his private life and YN had no idea who he was outside of work. Then again, he was her boss and his private life was none of her business. But deep down she admitted that she was very interested in him.

The days flew by and she finally felt as if she had been employed by Fischer Morrow for an eternity. But who Robert Fischer really was remained a mystery.

One evening, as she was about to leave, she quietly opened the door to Fischer's office. He was sitting in front of his computer, his chin resting on his hands. "Have a nice evening, Mr Fischer." He jumped slightly, obviously not having heard her come in, but then he smiled. "Thank you, you too."

YN looked at her watch. "It's almost half past seven, don't you want to finish your work soon? Don't you have a wife waiting for you?"

Mr Fischer shrugged. "I've been divorced for a few years now, and I only see my daughter at weekends. The only thing waiting for me is an empty, dark apartment."

YN held her breath. It was the first time he had told her anything about his private life. But in the same second, he seemed to regret his words.

"No one waits for me either," she said. "Except for my cat."

Fischer raised an eyebrow with a smile. "At least that's something."

Finally she said goodbye and left the office. But all the way home, she kept thinking about her conversation with Fischer.

Was he perhaps as lonely as she was?

Tired, YN lay in bed. She didn't even have the strength to change her clothes and remove her make up. Although she wanted nothing more than to get out of that itchy, uncomfortable dress and tights. A quiet meow sounded beside her and she felt something soft brush against her arm. Smiling, she pulled the cat closer and buried her face in its white fur.

Since leaving her small home village for London, she had no one to talk to. Her old friends had all left her and moved on with their own lives. Robert Fischer was the only one she spoke to regularly, though it was far from a friendship. With the cat in her arms, she turned to the other side. But what if she had feelings for him?

Maybe she should tell him. But wasn't that too much? He was still her boss, after all, and there were probably plenty of women who were interested in him.

She quickly pushed the thought aside and closed her eyes.

Robert Fischer turned curiously when he heard the quick clicking of heels in the corridor. Panting, his assistant opened the door and dropped her bag on the desk.

"Miss YLN, are you okay?"

Her hair was messy, her coat hung loosely over her shoulders as if she hadn't had time to put it on properly, and her lipstick was a little smudged.

"I… overslept," she said, panting. "I'm sorry."

Fischer looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It's okay. But it shouldn't happen again."

"Of course not, sir," she replied immediately.

He quickly disappeared into his office and returned with a thick stack of papers and a folder.

"Would you be so kind as to sort these documents alphabetically for me? They've been on my desk for days and I haven't had a chance to get to them. I know it's not an exciting task."

She nodded and took the heavy pile from his hand. Fischer thanked her and hurried back to his office.

Sighing, she set to work. But with each page, she found her concentration fading and her mind wandering. Her head ached, her eyes burned and she felt incredibly tired. But she tried not to show it, kept working as hard as she could and finally put the sorted file back on Mr Fischer's desk.

Exhausted, she walked back to her office, sat down in her chair and buried her face in her hands. She was shivering and her ears were ringing. Was it because she had forgotten to take her medicine today?

"Miss YLN?" she heard her boss' voice.

She turned immediately and forced a smile. "Yes, Mr Fischer?"

"I have an job interview scheduled for ten, would you be so kind as to prepare the conference room for it?"

"Of course, sir."

He stopped halfway and looked at YN questioningly. "Are you okay? You look so pale." She nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Everything's fine, Mr Fischer." Fischer looked at her, raised his eyebrows, then handed her the key to the meeting room and disappeared back into his office.

A strange feeling of dizziness spread through her head as she walked down the long corridor leading to the conference rooms.

What was wrong with her today?

When it started to get dark outside, YN finally turned off her computer and reached for her bag. The strange dizziness had improved during the day, leading her to conclude that she simply needed a break from work. Fortunately, it was Friday. She knocked gently on Fischer's door, as she always did before leaving, to wish him a pleasant evening. He was sitting there as usual, his chin resting on his hand, deep in thought. He glanced up briefly and nodded politely, noticing her in the doorway. He looked stunningly handsome today, even after this long and exhausting day.

"I didn't ask you how the job interviews went this morning," she asked curiously. Fischer shook his head. "Terribly," he said. "None of these people I'd want in my company." His voice was cold and dismissive, and for a moment she thought he was referring to her, even though she knew he meant someone else. She smiled awkwardly and shrugged slightly. "Well, maybe the next one will be better."

Fischer remained silent.

"Have a good weekend, Mr Fischer."

"You too, Miss YLN." He gave her a friendly smile.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend? I know a good restaurant, would you like to join me?" The moment she realised what she had just said, she bit her lip, her face turning red. Had she completely lost her mind? She desperately hoped he hadn't heard what she'd asked, but it was too late. She could see Fischer raise his eyebrows in confusion and stare at her.

"No, Miss YLN. I'm not interested. I keep my work and personal life strictly separate." She immediately looked down, embarrassed. Thoughts raced through her mind like a rollercoaster and her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. "I'm sorry, Mr Fischer, I shouldn't have asked you that." She finally grabbed her bag and left the office without another word, feeling Fischer's gaze on her back.

It was drizzling lightly as she walked through the busy streets of London. The cold air did her good and she felt her head clear a little.

Why had she done this? It had been clear from the start that a man like him would reject her. But the words had come out of her mouth as if she had completely lost control. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. She didn't want to have a mental breakdown in public, even though it felt like Fischer had torn her heart into a thousand pieces. Suddenly the strange dizziness returned and her vision blurred slightly. The sounds of London became muffled, as if she were incredibly far away.

"Miss YLN, wait!" she suddenly heard a voice behind her that seemed to be getting closer.

She turned around. The dizziness had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Startled, her eyes widened as she saw the person in front of her - it was Mr Fischer. What was he doing here? Had he followed her? She tried to speak, but all she could manage was a hoarse stutter.

"I wanted to apologize, Miss YLN. It wasn't very nice of me to brush you off like that," he said with a gentle laugh. His voice sounded strangely different, softer than usual. Wordless and spellbound, she stared into the pair of light blue eyes before her, apologetic and gentle in their expression. She knew Mr Fischer had blue eyes, but she'd never noticed how incredibly bright they looked.

"It's okay, don't worry," she managed to say, her knees shaking with excitement.

"No, no, Miss YLN. I'll think about the dinner offer, okay? Just because we work together doesn't mean we can't have dinner together, does it?" Fischer suggested, and she nodded slowly, then smiled.

Why this sudden change of heart?

"Well, see you soon." He waved goodbye and YN, still completely confused, raised her hand in response. But before she could form another thought, he had disappeared into the crowd.

Carefully, YN pressed the shutter on her old camera, focusing the lens on the small lake in front of her. Satisfied, she lowered it. She was confident that this snapshot would turn out well. This park was a place she often visited to clear her head and pursue her passion, photography, as it offered many beautiful subjects. Especially now, in autumn, when the trees were covered with colourful leaves and the silence was slowly descending, with only the occasional pedestrian passing by.

Her dizziness had eased a little, but not completely. Fortunately, it was Saturday and she had the whole day to herself. YN sat down on a bench under a tree that looked to be at least a hundred years old.

She sat there for a while, lost in thought. Eventually she got up and made her way to the West End. The streets of London were noisy and busy as she walked, looking for a warm place in a café and something to eat. Crowds of people rushed past her, music played from somewhere and loud voices filled the air. Exhausted, she rubbed her temples. Maybe she should have stayed home and rested.

Suddenly she held her breath as she spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Dark hair, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Fischer. But before she could think, he had already noticed her and started to smile at her.

"Miss YLN, how nice to see you! What a coincidence!"

It was the first time she had seen him in his casual clothes rather than one of his business suits. But this was no less elegant and stylish. He was wearing a well-fitting black coat, a grey knitted jumper underneath and black trousers. It was so strange to see him outside his office at Fischer Morrow Company. Suddenly he didn't seem so unapproachable and distant anymore.

"What are you doing here?" she asked curiously.

He paused for a moment. He seemed to be considering whether or not to tell her.

"I took my little girl to her friend's house for a sleepover. She's been asking me for weeks because her mum won't let her."

"So you're a cool dad," YN replied.

Fischer rolled his eyes. "I'm the one who lets her get away with everything. We had to turn back twice because she realised she had forgotten her favourite stuffed animal and her toothbrush."

She laughed softly. In a strange way, she enjoyed him talking so openly about his life.

"Oh wow, that looks amazing. It's quite old, isn't it?" Mr Fischer pointed to the camera around her neck. "From the 1960s. But it takes incredibly good pictures for that time," she explained. Fischer seemed genuinely impressed. "Do you have more like it?"

"I have quite a few. From the 50s to the 80s, actually, and of course some modern digital cameras. Photography has been my passion since I was a child," she explained. Fischer looked at her with an interested smile. "So there's actually film in there that needs to be developed?" she nodded in confirmation. "Some photo shops still offer that service, yes."

Mr Fischer seemed genuinely interested in her hobby, asking her questions about it as they walked side by side through the streets of London. She felt incredibly comfortable in his presence and hoped he wouldn't leave so soon. Finally he pointed to the camera again. "Would you take a picture of me, please? I'd like a 60's style photo of myself." YN's heart began to beat faster in her chest. What had he just said?

"Of course, Mr Fischer," she replied nervously. "Robert. My name is Robert," he replied. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, completely surprised. No one at Fischer Morrow Ltd called him by his first name, and outside the company she had only heard his uncle, Peter Browning, call him Robert.

"Let's find a nice spot for the photo," he said, letting his gaze wander until it settled on a beautiful fountain.

Carefully, she picked up the camera, took a few steps back and held it directly in front of Robert's face. "Smile, please," she instructed him, finally pressing the shutter.

A pedestrian who had just passed them looked at YN with a confused expression and shook his head. Frowning, she looked after him before carefully tucking the camera into her handbag.

Are you hungry?" asked Robert. "We could go to a restaurant."

Surprised, she looked at him. "I don't know…" she said hesitantly, biting her lower lip. In fact, she had never expected to be asked such a question.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows and she could see the disappointment in his eyes. Finally, she worked up the courage to say what was on her mind.

"It's just… To be honest, you told me yesterday that you were someone who kept your work and personal life strictly separate. Maybe it would be better if we did. After all, I'm your employee."

As much as she wanted to spend time with him, she was afraid of developing even more feelings for him. Robert nodded slowly and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

"I really like you. I just never wanted to show it, that's why I was so reserved with you and told you I wasn't interested in you".

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as a ton of thoughts went through her head. Robert finally nodded at her with a slightly disappointed look on his face and turned on his heel.

"Wait!" she called after him.

He stopped immediately and looked at her hopefully.

"Let's give it a try, shall we?"

"YN… is that a French name?"

Robert's voice sounded slightly tipsy as he grinned curiously at her, twirling his wine glass casually in his hands.

He had taken her to a rather fancy and expensive place, the walls were dark wood panelling, the chairs were covered in red velvet and soft jazz music was playing on one of the radios. Robert looked hauntingly beautiful that night. His skin seemed incredibly soft and flawless, his jawline even more prominent, and his blue eyes shone almost ghostly in the dim light, almost like he wasn’t real…

She smiled, nodded and took a sip from her glass. "My father is French. I grew up in France but moved to England when I was 15."

He nodded with interest, rubbing his chin with his finger.

"And you? I heard you're Australian," she asked curiously.

Robert laughed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, my accent makes it obvious."

YN blushed and looked down at her plate. What a stupid question.

But Robert didn't seem to mind too much, because he started talking about his life in Sydney, how he had finally moved to London after his father's death, and she listened with interest.

But suddenly he stopped and looked at her thoughtfully. "But I'm probably just boring you."

YN immediately shook her head. "No, you're not," she told him. "I find it really interesting to find out all this about you."

At that moment a waitress came to their table with a smile and asked YN in a friendly tone if she had enjoyed her meal. But the waitress paid no attention to Robert, YN noticed with surprise. Perhaps she was just being extra polite to the lady.

Robert pulled out a black leather wallet and rummaged through it. Quickly, YN pulled a few notes out of her habdbag and handed them to the waitress. "Keep the change," she said.

The waitress looked at her with wide eyes, "Thank you, ma'am," she said gratefully, "have a nice evening.

Then she turned and left the table.

"You didn't have to do that," Robert said. "As a gentleman, it's actually my job to pay."

She shook her head in amusement. "I bet that's never happened to you before, has it?"

Robert shook his head and took the last drink from his glass. There was a moment of silence between them.

"Okay. So what's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

She looked at him in surprise. As soon as he said the words, she felt a tingle in her stomach.

The church clock struck twelve as she crossed the street hand in hand with Robert. It was freezing, and she had pulled her scarf so far up her face that only her eyes and nose were visible. Her date looked at her with amusement. "Are you going to rob a bank?" he asked, laughing out loud.

"Shh!" she snapped at him, putting her fingers to his lips. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

Although it was quite dark and she could only make out Robert, she knew that his typical mischievous grin was back on his face. She pulled him firmly behind her until they reached the small white building.

"Is this where you live?" Robert asked.

She put her finger to his lips for a second time until Robert stopped talking and looked silently into her eyes. Her heart was beating in her chest as she finally stood on her toes, put her arms around his neck and placed her lips on his. Robert returned the kiss without hesitation and gently pulled her into his arms. YN could hardly believe what was happening. It was everything she had secretly wanted for months. They remained like this for a moment before she finally let go of him and reached for her key.

She felt for Robert's upper arm and finally pulled him into her apartment, closing the door behind him. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and began to kiss him again. His lips were a little cold and tasted of wine. Together they stumbled backwards into her bedroom, taking off his coat, which she tossed carelessly to the floor.

Robert's fingers stroked carefully along her hip and fumbled a little with her belt while she was busy putting little kisses on his neck. With slightly trembling hands she pulled his jumper over his head and Robert took her hand.

"Are you nervous?" he wanted to know. She remained silent.

"Don't be," he whispered softly into her ear, taking her in his arms again and pulling her onto the bed. Breathing softly, she clung to his chest, leaned back and finally closed her eyes as she felt his warm skin against hers.

The sun shone through the half-open curtains, creating a narrow, bright streak across the floor. Blinking, she opened her eyes and stretched. But immediately a sharp pain shot through her head again and she held her forehead tiredly. Confused, she sat up and tried to remember what had happened yesterday.

But when she heard soft breathing next to her, she turned quickly and all the events of last night came back to her. Smiling, she looked over at Robert, snuggled up next to her in her beige blanket, sleeping peacefully. Tenderly stroking his messy hair, she lay down beside him again and then began to caress his bare chest. Perhaps what they had done was wrong. After all, they were two people who should never have fallen in love. But it had happened, and it felt so right. They remained in this position for some time, Robert asleep and YN lost in thought.

Her eyes swept through the bedroom until they settled on a small white box on her dresser. Quickly sitting up, she reached for it and put a small pill into her mouth. Eventually, Robert began to move a little beside her, opening his eyes tiredly. Smiling broadly, she gave him a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," Robert murmured in a raspy morning voice.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Yes, wonderfully." He yawned loudly and took her into his arms as she laid her head lovingly on his shoulder.

"Wait, what time is it?" he suddenly wanted to know.

"Quarter past ten, why do you ask?" she replied.

"Shit," Robert muttered as he let go of the hug, jumped out of the bed and started to pick up his clothes, which were strewn all over the floor.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" she asked, looking at him in confusion.

"I should've picked up my daughter by now," he replied, hurrying to get dressed.

Sighing, she pulled the blanket around her a little tighter. "Can't it wait? Can't you stay for breakfast?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure she's already waiting for me.“ Robert dodged her questions, grabbing his coat on the floor and sighing when he saw her disappointed look.

He walked slowly towards her, stroking her chin with his finger, and finally whispered: "We can catch up later." Then he put a soft kiss on her lips before turning around and disappearing through the door. She sank back into the pillows and pulled the blanket over her head.

The rest of Sunday flew by. Mostly because her mind was on Robert and she could hardly wait to see him again tomorrow at work. She had probably never looked forward to a Monday in her life as much as she did that day.

The next morning, YN carefully applied her lipstick and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She noticed that the collar of her white blouse was a little crooked and quickly adjusted it. She wanted to look her best for Robert today, so he wouldn't change his mind and lose interest in her.

Humming softly, she put on her black high heels and grabbed her handbag. She quickly put another pill into her mouth and put the box in her bag. Her headache was completely gone and her head finally felt clear and light again. In a good mood, she breathed in the fresh morning air and made her way to work.

Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked down the familiar corridor of Fischer Morrow. The lights were on in Robert's office. She ran a final hand through her hair, smoothed her blouse and opened the door to her own office.

The air was stuffy and hot. Coughing, she ran to the window and opened it.

"Good morning, Miss YLN, I hope you had a nice weekend," a familiar voice sounded from behind her.

Startled, she turned to see Robert's face as he stuck his head through the door, as he always did.

Why didn't he call her by her first name? Confused, she stared at him, trying to form a clear sentence. "But… But… we spent it together…" her voice finally broke. Her head suddenly hurt again.

He seemed so different again. Not the Robert she had spent the weekend with, not the one who had apologised for being too rude to her, not the one who had made her laugh and told her about his life. He seemed more like the one she had worked with for months, the one who never revealed anything about himself.

"Miss YLN? I haven't seen you since Friday, when you left my office after… asking me that question."

Her heart almost stopped. Suddenly her knees gave way and she sank to the floor.

"Are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?" Concerned, he bent down to her. "Do you want to go home and rest?"

She nodded slightly and wiped a tear from her eye, which had turned her fingers black from the carefully applied mascara. Then she got up and left the office.

At home, she lay motionless on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't think straight and her throat felt incredibly dry. The door to her room, which was only ajar, opened gently and something small and white slipped through. Sniffling, she stretched out her arms and lifted her cat onto the bed.

Everything that had happened that weekend had been fake. She had made it all up. And all of this happened because she had forgotten to take the pills against her hallucinations. Robert hadn't really followed her on Friday evening; it was all a figment of her imagination. While his real self was still sitting in the office, probably not thinking about her at all. Everything suddenly made sense: why Robert looked a bit different, why his voice sounded different, the waitress who ignored him on Saturday because she couldn’t actually see him, the pedestrian who gave her a confused look because she was talking to herself while taking the photo.

The photo.

She immediately got up, put on her shoes and ran to the photo shop where she had left the film to be developed. Her heart raced as the staff handed her the envelope with the photos. Trembling, she finally grabbed the Saturday night photo, without looking at it herself, and held it up to the staff's face. "What do you see?" she asked.

The young man looked at her in confusion, but remained polite. "The fountain at Piccadilly Circus. Great picture, it turned out really nice."

"Anything else?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," he replied, and it felt like a slap in her face. Fischer had never been there with her. Only her lonely and sad mind had led her to believe that he was interested in her and loved her. Tears welled in her eyes and she left the shop without another word. When she got home, she immediately took the white box of pills from her handbag, rushed into the kitchen, opened it and poured the pills into the bin.

Crying and with burning eyes, she finally lay down on her bed and buried her head in the pillow as her cat purred softly beside her. She must have stayed like that for hours, as the sun began to set again outside her window. When she finally lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face, she saw a dark haired man sitting beside her bed, looking at her lovingly with his pale blue eyes. A smile suddenly appeared on her face and she began to laugh, pulling the man into a tight hug.

some explanations because i know that story is kinda mind-fucking:

• Is Robert Fischer all a creation of the readers mind?

- No he actually exists, he’s her boss and she‘s in love with hin but she imagines dating him.

• When is he real, when is he fake?

- - The Robert Fischer in the office is real, he turns her down when she asks him out, leaving YN heartbroken. The moment she leaves the office, she starts to imagine what it would be like if he apologised to her, so the man who follows her is just her imagination. The real Robert Fischer is still in his office at Fischer-Morrow.

When she visits the city on Saturday and meets "Robert" and goes on a date with him, it's also just her imagination. That's why other people react to her with confusion, because she's basically talking to herself all the time. On Sunday morning, when she wakes up next to him, he's still fake. When she takes her pills, he quickly "disappears" (he says he has to pick up his daughter...) because they stop her hallucination.

On Monday morning, when she gets back to her office, the real Robert Fischer is there again, who hadn't seen her since he had rejected her on Friday evening.

When she gets home, she throws away her pills and her hallucination starts again. The man who sat next to her on the bed and comforted her is again the imaginary version of Robert.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian #robert fischer x reader #robert fisch x yn #cillian x y/n #cillian masterlist #cillian x fem!reader #inception #inception fanfiction #Oppenheimer #tommy shelby

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