#redemption arc of a lifetime | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monzabee · 4 months ago

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the alchemy - cs55

masterlist || part 1 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where not Carlos, nor you, have the power to fight the alchemy.

Pairing: dad!carlos sainz x mom!reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: absolute fluff (been a while), possible ovary explosion bc of dad!carlos, cursing (because i use way too many f-bombs in real life too), kids (apparently, it’s a tw for some people), i tried hating charles but it’s not happenning so a cheater redemption arc (kinda, he's trying okay??)

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! first of all, thank you all so much for the love you showed for part one, i really appreciate it and i'm sorry that this part has been a little delayed, but i just wanted it to be just as drama-filled as the first part whilst still being a bit lighter so i hope i found the right balance for it. while we love dad!carlos, i felt like charles still deserved a chance to redeem himself and come to his senses so we love that redemption arc for him (well, kinda guess?). also, i know we have one more part of this little mini-series to go, a social media au (yay!), but i just wanted to let you all know, once again, that i do not have a taglist, and no i will not be making one!! however, i do appreciate all your support and comments, and please do let me know what you think about this part! thanks to @percervall once again, who had to listen me talk about this part for many many hours and who was kind enough to help me proofread!! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

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

It only happened once every few lifetimes.

You honestly did not expect to end up with one of your closest friends – especially not after you told your cheating husband that you were getting a divorce, after he chose his lover over you and your baby; and most definitely not after the said close friend told you that he would step up instead of your cheat of a husband.

But there you are, in the arms of non-other than Carlos Sainz, your boyfriend, having just woken up by the excited pitter patter of feet right outside your bedroom door. “Carlos,” you whisper, nudging him softly to wake him up, “Carlos, wake up.” You watch as he stirs, and then buries his head onto his pillow mumbling all the reasons why he doesn’t want to be awake, but you just chuckle softly as you poke him again. “Carlos, please.”

With a disgruntled grunt, you watch as his eyes open, and with a scratchy voice he whines, “What, amor, I was sleeping.”

Rolling your eyes, you point to the bedroom door, “Listen,” you tell him, and watch as his eyes widen as realisation sets in at the same time his expression turns into a smiling one. “I think someone is excited for today.”

“You think?” He retorts, snorting lightly as he pulls you closer, “That’s all he’s been able to talk about for weeks, amor.”

“Well, can you blame him?” You nudge him, ignoring the sound of scraping of your son’s step stool outside your door. “He just wants to watch his father win.” Watching the smile on your boyfriend’s face grows as the door handle is jiggling, you point to the pillows with your head, “Let’s just pretend we’re asleep, he’ll be happier that way.”

With a deep sigh, the happy kind, he pulls you closer to himself – at the right time too, as you hear the patter of footsteps getting closer. With a tug at the comforter, you hear, “Papa, wake up.” You can hear Carlos, badly, muffling a chuckle by burying his head deeper into your neck, but the little voice beside him is non-relenting. “Papa! You promised me we’d go to the race today!”

“Carlos,” you whisper covertly, “you’re going to make him cry.”

Giving you a look that silently says, No I won’t, he turns towards the little intruder in your bedroom, quickly gathering him in his arms as he puts him on the bed next to you. The sound of laughter coming from two of the most important men in your life bring a sleepy smile to your face as you watch Carlos tickle your son despites his protests for him to stop.

“Mommy!” Your son exclaims, climbing over Carlos to reach you, “Tell Papa to stop! We need to get ready!” His face is flushed with excitement and laughter, a sight that fills your heart with warmth.

“Alright, alright,” you say, giggling as you pull him into a hug, “let’s get ready then. You don’t want to be late for your big day, do you?”

Carlos finally stops his playful assault, sitting up and stretching with a groan. “She’s right, buddy. We should all get up and get going. Lots to do before the race, you still remember our plan for breakfast?” Your son’s eyes light up even more, if that were possible, and he scrambles off the bed, running back to his room to get dressed. You and Carlos exchange a glance, something you seem to do more now than ever.

You wait until Rafael is out of the hearing distance before you tilt your head sideways and narrow your eyes in question, “What plan are you talking about?”

“Nothing for you,” he boops your nose with his pointer finger as he straightens up and gets out of the bed, “to worry your pretty little head about. Just come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued but willing to play along. “So, you think I’m pretty?” you ask, batting your eyes at him exaggeratedly as he gently shoves you back into the bed. Getting up and stretching, which you shamelessly take the opportunity to ogle him, you watch him with a smile as he heads towards the kitchen following your son. Getting ready consists of brushing your teeth and hastily throwing on a robe for you, too anxious to see what you son and husband cooking up in the kitchen – literally.

The scene in the kitchen is enough to melt your heart on its own – Rafael is standing on his trusty step stool at the counter, his little hands busy arranging an assortment of fruits on a plate. The concentration on his face is evident by the way his tongue peeks out slightly in that adorable way he does when he’s focused, a habit that he picked up from his father. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, is busy with flipping something in a pan, shirtless might you add.

“Oh my God, look at my boys!” You croon, leaning against the doorframe with a playful grin. “You even have matching hats and everything!”

“Boys?” Carlos scoffs, turning to Rafael and pointing his finger towards you, “Can you believe her?” He then turns to you as he places his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. “We are not boys, amor, we are men.”

You chuckle at his exaggerated display of masculinity, shaking your head as you walk further into the kitchen. “Oh, of course, how could I forget? The two manliest men I know,” you tease, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Rafael, picking up on the banter, puffs out his little chest just like his father, mimicking his stance. “Yeah, Mommy! We're strong, right, Papa?”

Carlos grins, his eyes twinkling as he looks at Rafael. “That’s right, we’re the strongest men in the world." He turns back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And we make the best breakfast too. Isn’t that right, Raf?”

“Yes!” Rafael exclaims, beaming with pride as he holds up the plate of perfectly arranged fruit. “Look what I made, Mommy!”

You lean down to inspect his handiwork, smiling softly. “Wow, this looks incredible, sweetheart. You’re so talented!” You give him a big kiss on the cheek, making him giggle.

Carlos steps closer, holding out a fork with a piece of pancake speared on it. “And how about a taste test, amor?” His voice is softer now, the playful tone giving way to something more tender.

You take the fork from him, taking a bite of the pancake. The fluffiness and warmth of it fill your senses, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh. “This is amazing, Carlos. You’ve outdone yourself.”

He watches you with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Only the best for you.”

Rafael, not wanting to be left out, grabs a piece of fruit and holds it up to you. “Try mine too, Mommy!”

You take the fruit from him, savouring the sweetness as you chew. “Delicious! You’re both going to spoil me with all this great food.”

Carlos chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. “That’s the plan,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shiver slightly. “I can also spoil you in the other way you like,” his voice drops enough for only you to hear.

You glance up at him, meeting his playful yet heated gaze, and feel a blush creep up your cheeks. “Carlos,” you murmur, half-warning, half-inviting, as Rafael happily oblivious to the exchange, chatters away about his breakfast creation. “I would like to still be able to walk by the time we get to the paddock.”

But Carlos just smirks, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “Later, amor,” he promises, his voice thick with affection and mischief.

Before you can respond, Rafael tugs at your robe, breaking the spell. “Mommy! Let’s eat now!” His voice is filled with the kind of innocent excitement that only a child can muster, and it instantly brings you back in the present moment.

You smile down at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Alright, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Carlos gives you one last knowing glance before stepping back to grab the plates. As the three of you settle down at the table, you try to ignore his lingering gaze that makes your heart race just a bit faster, though you’re not exactly that successful.

It would be safe to say that it had been a crazy few years for Carlos Sainz. Or at least, that’s what Charles would say – if, you know, anybody was to ask him his opinion. First, he had lost his seat at Ferrari, and Charles really felt for him at first; after all, he was his teammate. But he was also the man who ended his marriage, so his feelings for Carlos changed for the worse very quickly. The whole situation had him coming to some revelations.

First revelation he came to was the fact that he was wrong for cheating on his wife, however complicated the situation might be. He had tried to justify it to himself, blaming the stress and the strain, but deep down, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done.

Second revelation was that you deserved to be happy, with or without him – he was just being petty because it was with his old teammate. You deserved to be happy, and while Charles could admit that in theory, accepting that your happiness was now tied to Carlos was a bitter pill to swallow.

Third, and probably the biggest, revelation was that he had royally screwed up when he chose the other woman over you and your son, and it was a loss that he mourned every single day. If he thought seeing Carlos thrive after his own life was crumbling down was hurting his ego, seeing Carlos be the father to his son, was a thousand times worse.

Life took an interesting turn for Carlos after that night at the hotel in Monte Carlo. You had no expectations for him, you didn’t expect him to stay true to his words and be there for you and your baby. But that was the thing, because he kept his promise. He was at your door the next morning with a short list of apartments and penthouses in Monte Carlo. Anticipating your need of getting out of the country, he was prepared – he also looked at apartments in New York, houses in LA and townhouses in London (the few apartments he chose in Madrid also didn’t escape you, but it was a conversation you weren’t ready to have yet). So, when you were having, yet another breakdown in front of him, he just stood next to you and held you until you calmed down. He was always next to you, somehow managing his schedule for the racing season and coming out to see you between races. He kept true to his promise as he made waffles for you at midnight, grumbling about how pancakes were superior, and he held your hand when you were in the delivery room even though you were probably close to breaking the poor man’s hand. The bigger shock came when he announced that he would not be racing for the next season – something he had conveniently not told you in the months leading up to your pregnancy. It also led up to your first fight, and your first real confrontation since this unexpected journey began. The news that Carlos wouldn’t be racing the next season blindsided you. It wasn’t just the fact that he had made such a monumental decision without consulting you; it was the realisation that he had chosen you and your child over the sport he loved so deeply.

“What do you mean you’re not racing next season?” you had asked, your voice edged with disbelief. You were standing in the kitchen of the new apartment he had helped you find, your baby—your son—napping peacefully in the next room. Carlos was casually leaning against the counter, arms crossed, as if he had just announced something as mundane as what was for dinner.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you had come to recognize as a sign that he was about to say something serious. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he said, his voice calm, and God it drove you insane how calm and rational he was being with a decision so irrational to you. “And after everything that’s happened... I just think it’s the right decision for now.”

“But racing is your life,” you insisted, the weight of his words settling in. “I don’t understand how you can just walk away from it.”

Carlos met your gaze, his brown eyes steady and full of determination. “It’s not about walking away,” he explained. “It’s about priorities. You and Rafael... you’re my priority now. I want to be here for you both, not halfway across the world, missing out on everything.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. For so long, you had been used to being let down, to promises that were made and then broken. But here was Carlos, standing in front of you, willing to give up something he loved more than anything for you and your son.

“That’s not fair to you,” you whispered, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you give up on your dreams.”

Carlos stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “You’re not taking anything away from me,” he assured you. “You’re giving me something I didn’t even know I needed. I’m choosing this, because I want to. I want to be here for you, to be the father Rafael deserves. I want us to be a family.”

His words broke through the wall you had been holding up, and you let the tears fall. It wasn’t just about the sacrifice he was making; it was about the fact that he was doing it willingly, without hesitation, because he wanted to be with you and Rafael. It was a love that was deeper than anything you had ever known, and it terrified you as much as it filled you with hope.

“But what if you regret it?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of your fears.

“I won’t,” Carlos said firmly, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears. “I know what I want. And if I ever go back to racing, it’ll be when we’re ready. When we both decide it’s the right time. But for now, this is where I need to be.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was as serious as ever, and in that moment, you realized that this wasn’t just about him making a choice— it was about him choosing you, over and over again, in a way no one ever had before.

The argument you had anticipated fizzled out before it could even begin. There was nothing left to fight about, not when he had laid his heart bare for you. All you could do was fall into his arms, holding onto him tightly as you let the weight of his decision sink in. It was overwhelming, knowing that someone loved you that much, that they would uproot their entire world just to be by your side.

So, yeah, Carlos Sainz had not raced for the 2025 season. If it were up to him, he would stay with the two of you for the 2026 season as well, but you and Carlos Sainz Sr managed to convince him to get back to the real world, no matter how much he was enjoying being a stay-at-home dad. But the biggest shock for the world, and Charles, wasn’t that Carlos was returning to the F1 grid – no, the biggest shock was that he was returning to the F1 grid in one of the most coveted seats; right next to Max Verstappen. The reaction to the news had been mixed. Some were thrilled to see him back, eager to see what he could do in a car as competitive as the Red Bull. Others were skeptical, wondering if a year away from the sport had dulled his edge. For Charles, the news was a bitter pill to swallow. Carlos wasn’t just returning to the grid—he was stepping into one of the most sought-after seats in F1. But more than that, it was the reminder that Carlos had taken something else from him, something far more personal and painful. Watching Carlos step into his new role at Red Bull, knowing that he was now part of your life and Rafael’s life in a way Charles never could be, was a constant, aching reminder of everything he had lost.

And so began the Leclerc-Sainz rivalry – which although sounds riveting, is probably the reason why you had to visit your cardiologist more times than necessary within the last couple of years. On the surface, it was the perfect storyline: two former teammates, now on opposing sides, battling it out on the track in some of the most intense and thrilling races the sport had ever seen. But for you, it was far from entertainment. Each race weekend became a new source of anxiety, and Carlos knew how much it affected you, so he tried his best to keep the rivalry on the track. He would reassure you, telling you that whatever happened during the race, it wouldn’t change how he felt about you or Rafael. But even he couldn’t deny that the tension between him and Charles was personal. It was more than just racing—it was about proving something, not just to the world, but to themselves and each other. And so, race after race, you found yourself on an emotional rollercoaster. The thrill of seeing Carlos perform at his best was always accompanied by the fear of what might happen if things went wrong. The rivalry wasn’t just a storyline for the media—it was a real, living thing that had a profound impact on your life.

So, when Rafael told you that he wanted to watch his father race live, you were hesitant to agree. The thought of bringing your son into that world—where emotions ran high, and the stakes were even higher—filled you with dread. The last thing you wanted was for Rafael to witness the intensity of the rivalry that had consumed not just Carlos and Charles, but your entire life.

Carlos, however, was adamant. He knew how much it meant to Rafael to see him race, to be a part of something that had been such a significant part of Carlos’s life before Rafael was born. “He needs to see it,” Carlos told you one evening as you sat together, discussing Rafael’s request. “He needs to know what I do, why it’s important to me, and why I went back to racing in the first place.”

You couldn’t deny that Carlos had a point. Rafael idolized his father and seeing him in action would only strengthen the bond between them. But the idea of watching the race unfold, of seeing Carlos and Charles go head-to-head while your son was there, was almost too much to bear. The days leading up to the race were a blur of preparation and anxiety. Carlos did his best to reassure you, but the tension was palpable. He understood your fears and promised to keep things professional, but you both knew that once the lights went out, everything would be on the line. So, you weren’t exactly surprised that your boyfriend spent the entire morning buttering you up and getting you to relax as much as possible about the day ahead of you.

And to be perfectly fair, he was right for the most part. It had been fine from the moment you made it into the paddock, which somehow worked wonders on your anxiety. As you made your way to the circuit, Rafael’s excitement was infectious. He was practically bouncing in his seat, his little face pressed against the window as he took in the sights. You couldn’t help but smile, his joy momentarily easing the knot of anxiety that had been tightening in your chest since the moment you agreed to come to the paddock in the first place.

Seeing him so happy and in his element, you know instantly that the paddock, no matter in which country, is going to become his safe place. Rafael keeps asking Carlos questions about everything from how they manage to keep the cars so clean to what would happen if they didn’t wear helmets. And Carlos is patient as he answers all his questions, no matter how childish or obvious they might seem. So, when he told Rafael that maybe, just maybe, he might end up in one of the cars he admires so much one day, you know your son won’t miss the beat. “Can I?” He asks you, eyes widened with a pleading look as he clasps his hands together under his chin, “Please, Mommy, I promise I’ll be very careful.”

“Absolutely not,” you shake your head, mind immediately starting to think about all the things that could go wrong, “it’s so dangerous! Just think about how afraid you’d be of the speed.”

Rafael scoffs, arms crossed on his chest as he pleads through the pout he has on his face, “I’m not afraid of the speed! Papa, tell her I’m not afraid of the speed!”

Carlos reaches over Rafael’s head as he takes off his cap and ruffles his hair, which manages to get a series of giggles from the little boy, and he affirms, “You are not afraid of the speed, but your mother is right.” You have to hold in your laughter when you see the indignant look on Rafael’s face, but Carlos continues talking as he signals for his son to listen, “We can talk about it when you are older, but for right now you are my lead strategist, capisce?”

Rafael steers his pout towards you, and you shrug innocently in response, which gets a resigning sigh from him. “That’s fine, I guess.” He mumbles, and points to the garage door behind the table the three of you are sitting, “Can I look at your car again?”

“Be careful, and make sure you tell Caco where you are.” Carlos reminds him, as Rafael excitedly scurries off toward the garage, leaving you and Carlos to share a quiet moment.

Carlos leaned back in his chair, a content smile playing on his lips as he watched Rafael dart off. “He’s got the bug,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice.

You sigh, shaking your head playfully. “I know. He’s already got the attitude. I don’t think I’m ready for him to jump in a kart and never look back.”

Carlos reaches for your hand, his touch grounding you. “We’ll keep him safe,” he says quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “I promise. Whatever happens, we’ll make sure he’s ready, and we’ll protect him from the worst of it.”

You nod, squeezing his hand in return, trusting him like you always have. As you sit together, watching Rafael’s excitement fill the garage, the sweet moment is interrupted by a voice both of you know very well. “Seriously? You’re using him to get to me on a race day now?”

Your fingers nearly crush your poor boyfriend’s hand as you look at the intruder, your heart immediately racing. You turn to see Charles standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. His eyes flicker from Carlos to you, then toward the garage where Rafael had just run off. “Excuse me?” You manage to get out, your voice sharp with surprise. The audacity of his accusation stings more than you expected. Charles' gaze hardens as he steps closer, clearly not backing down.

“You heard me,” Charles says, his tone edged with bitterness. “Bringing Rafael here, right in the middle of everything... it’s not a coincidence. You’re just trying to—”

“To what?” Carlos cuts in, his voice calm but firm. His protective instincts kick in as he stands, placing himself between you and Charles. “To have a good day with our son? To let him enjoy the race?”

Charles scoffs, shaking his head. “He’s not your son, he’s mine. Stop fooling yourself into thinking you’re his father just because you’re here.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, everything goes silent. Carlos' expression tightens, but he doesn’t move, his body still a shield between you and Charles. You feel your breath catch in your throat, the weight of Charles’ words hanging heavy in the air. “I know who his father is, Charles,” Carlos says, his voice calm but steely. “And considering the fact that he doesn’t even know you exist, I’d say me being here is more than proof that I am his father.”

Charles' jaw clenches, and his eyes flicker with something raw—pain, jealousy, frustration, all mixed together. “You think you can just step in and take my place? Be the dad, play happy family with my son?”

“Cabrón,” Carlos warns, and though you’ve heard him use that nickname for his friends countless of times, this voice is devoid of all affection, “you lost all right to call yourself Rafael’s father when you decided to choose whatever flavour of the month you were with at the time.” You feel your heart race, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of the moment and the murderous look on Carlos’ face. Carlos steps forward, his voice low but terse. “You think being a father is about biology? About showing up when it’s convenient for you? Rafael doesn’t even know who you are because you’ve never been there for him. I have. I’ve been the one tucking him in, I've been there when he was sick and crying, and I’m the one showing him love every single day.”

Charles flinches, the sting of the truth evident in his expression. For a moment, the fire in his eyes dims, replaced by something else— regret, perhaps. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and he straightens his posture, trying to regain control of the situation. “I made mistakes,” Charles says, his voice quiet but defiant. “But you can’t just erase me from his life. He has a right to know who his real father is.”

Carlos’ gaze doesn’t waver, his protective instincts blazing. “Rafael knows who his real father is. He may not understand all the details yet, but he knows who’s been there for him. And when the time comes, when he’s ready, we’ll tell him the truth. But that decision isn’t yours to make anymore, Charles. You gave up that right a long time ago.”

“You’re just going to sit there and let him talk to me like this?” Charles hisses, turning towards you in an attempt to find sympathy. His eyes are pleading, but there’s anger simmering beneath the surface.

Your chest tightens as you meet his gaze, feeling the weight of everything that has been left unsaid between the three of you for so long. You take a deep breath, your voice soft but firm when you finally respond. “It’s time to let go, Charles.” Charles' face falls at your words, the weight of their finality hitting him hard. His lips part slightly as if he wants to argue, but no words come. The tension in the air is suffocating, each second stretching out painfully. Carlos remains silent, standing tall beside you, his hand subtly resting on your back for support. He knows this conversation is yours to finish. “It’s not about erasing you from Rafael’s life,” you continue, your voice steady though your heart is pounding in your chest. “It’s about doing what’s best for him. And right now, that means protecting him from the confusion and hurt that the fact that you were too much of a coward to choose him.”

Charles takes a step back, the anger in his expression dimming into something more fragile. His eyes search yours, perhaps looking for a trace of the bond you once shared, but it’s clear that things have changed too much. Too much time has passed. “I’m not trying to hurt him,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I apologised countless of times, what more do you want from me? I am sorry, okay?”

“Are you quite done?” Charles flinches at your sharp tone, the weight of your words settling heavily between the three of you. His gaze drops to the ground as if he’s searching for something to say, but nothing comes. Carlos stands steady beside you, his presence strong, comforting, even. “I am sorry, too, about it all.”

You can feel Carlos’ confused stare on you, and Charles looks at you with the same expression as he asks, “You... do?”

“I’m sorry that you were cheating on me from the start, I’m sorry you were too weak to stay faithful to me after we got married,” you continue, the words heavy but resolute as they fall from your lips. Charles' expression shifts, a mixture of guilt and pain crossing his face. Carlos’ hand tightens slightly on your back, offering silent support as you finally lay bare what you’ve held inside for so long. “I’m sorry I ignored it for as long as I did, and I’m sorry that I ever found out.” Charles’ face hardens, his eyes clouded with guilt and perhaps a hint of defensiveness as your words hit him. The weight of what you're saying seems to pull him down, and he takes a deep breath as if trying to absorb the impact. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, not willing to let this moment slip away before you say everything that’s been weighing on your heart. “I’m sorry I ever found out about the lies, but most of all, I’m sorry for Rafael. He deserved better, he deserved a father who was present and loved him without conditions,” you say, your eyes locking with Charles’. “You weren’t there, Charles, you weren’t there before Rafael, and you weren’t going to be there after him. So, I suppose what I’m not sorry for is falling in love with a man who was courageous enough to fill that role for both me and him.” Charles’ lips part as if to argue, but no words form. His eyes betray the guilt and regret he’s been carrying, but there’s nothing left for him to say. He knows it. You know it. Even the mechanics and people around you who have stopped what they are doing to watch this whole thing go down know it. “Finally, I’m sorry that you felt the need and audacity to come down here, now not only have you ruined our marriage, but you’ve also ruined my day-off which I intended to spend with my boyfriend, and our son.”

Charles flinches at your final words, his face crumpling under the weight of it all. The sting of your truth, laid bare for everyone to hear, leaves him speechless. His bravado has completely evaporated, replaced by a hollow sense of regret and defeat. He opens his mouth as if to respond but quickly closes it, realizing there’s nothing he can say that will undo the damage he caused, the pain he inflicted, or the years he lost. His eyes flicker to Carlos, who stands steady, unmoved by Charles’ turmoil. There’s no room for pity here. “I—” Charles begins but stops as Carlos raises his hand.

“I think you’ve said enough,” his voice lacks all sympathy for his old friend, his old teammate, “it’s best you should go before you distress my girlfriend, or my son any further.

Charles’ eyes widen slightly at Carlos’ words, the final blow landing hard. He looks as if he’s been physically struck, his shoulders slumping as any remaining fight drains from him. His gaze flickers between you and Carlos, searching for something—anything—but finding no redemption, no sympathy. There’s nothing left to say.

He swallows hard, his lips pressed into a tight line, before finally nodding in a reluctant acceptance. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. He turns on his heel, walking away with slow, defeated steps. The tension that had gripped the air slowly begins to dissipate as he disappears into the distance, leaving only the echoes of his footsteps behind.

Carlos turns to you, his hand still resting on your back, but now it’s a comforting gesture rather than a protective one. His expression softens as he searches your face. “Are you okay?” he asks gently.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s just happened, but also a sense of relief. “I think so,” you reply, your voice steady despite the emotional whirlwind you’ve just gone through. “It needed to happen.”

Carlos nods, his thumb brushing soothingly against your back. “He’s not going to ruin this for us. Not today, not ever.”

You smile faintly, grateful for his support. “No, he’s not. He’s gone now, and I’m finally free of it all.”

“We’re free of him,” Carlos adds, a reassuring strength in his voice. “You, me, and Rafael. That’s what matters.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful on the track today,” you plead, chin resting on his chest as you look up to him.

Carlos chuckles softly, his warm smile easing the tension that still lingers. “I promise,” he says, his voice light but sincere. He tilts his head, giving you a playful wink. “But you know me, I can’t drive too carefully. It's in my nature to push the limits a bit.”

You roll your eyes with a small laugh, but your heart flutters slightly at the thought of him racing. It’s something you’ve grown used to, but there’s always that edge of worry. "Just... don’t make me regret asking," you tease, though the concern in your voice is real.

Carlos leans down, brushing his lips gently against your forehead, the gesture filled with tenderness. "I’ll come back to you both, safe and sound," he whispers softly, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment. "Always."

You smile, feeling reassured by his words, and you give him a small nod. "Alright. Go show them what you’re made of, then."

As Carlos pulls away, you can see the familiar spark in his eyes, the passion and excitement that he always carries before a race. He gives your hand one last squeeze before turning to head toward the car. You watch him for a moment, taking in the sight of him—confident, composed, and ready for whatever comes next. Just before he reaches the garage doors, he turns back and flashes you that signature grin that always makes your heart skip a beat. “For you and Rafael,” he calls out. Your smile widens as you watch him go, knowing that no matter what happens on the track today, you’ll always have each other.

It’s not hard for you to find Rafael when you head back to the garage yourself. He’s completely engrossed in conversation with one of Carlos' engineers, pointing out different tools and parts of the car with wide-eyed fascination. His little hands gesture excitedly, and the engineer listens with a warm smile, clearly amused by Rafael’s enthusiasm. Carlos stands off to the side, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching his son with a look of pure affection and pride. His eyes sparkle as he takes in the sight of Rafael’s excitement, and there’s a certain softness to his expression that makes your heart swell.

You walk over, standing beside Carlos, who doesn’t take his eyes off Rafael but greets you with a small grin. “He’s already talking like he’s part of the team,” Carlos says quietly, his voice filled with pride. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s taking over the pit crew in a few years.”

You chuckle softly, watching Rafael explain something animatedly, his little voice echoing through the garage. “He’s got your passion,” you say, leaning into Carlos slightly, feeling the warmth of his presence.

Carlos hums in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist. “Maybe,” he says, his tone affectionate, “but the way he talks about everything… that’s all you. He’s got your curiosity, your heart, so, all my favourite parts of you.”

“My boyfriend the charmer,” you mumble as you lightly hit him on his chest.

Carlos chuckles, catching your hand gently against his chest before pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Just telling the truth,” he murmurs, his eyes twinkling as he holds your gaze for a moment longer. “You deserve all the charm in the world.”

You roll your eyes playfully, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re good at this, or I might think you’re just trying to get out of bath time for the next few days.”

Carlos laughs, his warm, deep voice sending a wave of comfort through you. “I’d never do that. Bath time is part of the job.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice with a mischievous grin. “But if I do this race right, maybe we can negotiate something.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning suspicion, but you can’t help the flutter in your chest at the way he always manages to make you feel light and cared for, even in the most mundane moments. “Alright, we’ll see how you perform today,” you tease back “if you win, I’ll let you put a baby in me, how about that?”

Carlos freezes for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise before a slow, playful grin spreads across his face. “You’re serious?” he asks, his voice filled with both excitement and disbelief.

You nod, biting your lip, unable to hide your own smile. “If you win today, we can start thinking about it.”

Carlos lets out a short laugh, running a hand through his hair as if trying to process what you just said. “Well, I’ve never been more motivated to win a race in my life,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a new intensity.

You chuckle, your heart racing at the look on his face. "Just make sure you’re focused on the track and not… well, other things."

“Oh, I’ll be focused,” Carlos says, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “But now, I’ve got the best reason in the world to win.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “For you, and for giving Rafael a baby sister or a brother.” Your breath catches at the sincerity in his voice, and as he pulls back, he flashes you that charming grin again before heading off toward the car. You watch him go, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness settle in your chest.

Eventually going behind the barriers and watching the race is harder than you’ve expected, you realise. As the laps go by, you keep glancing at Rafael, who’s glued to the action, his eyes wide with admiration for his dad. You smile at the way he clutches his little racing helmet, a miniature version of Carlos’ gear, his excitement evident. It’s clear he’s living every moment of the race through his dad’s performance, just as you are. When Carlos is in the lead, you hold your breath, willing him to stay ahead. When he’s fighting for position, you’re on the edge of your seat, cheering him on with every ounce of energy you have.

As the final laps approach, you glance at the clock and then at Rafael, who’s practically bouncing with excitement. You can tell he’s just as invested in the outcome as you are. You squeeze his hand, giving him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a determined nod.

When Carlos crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd is deafening, and you let out a cheer of your own, tears of joy welling up in your eyes. You look down at Rafael, who’s jumping up and down, his face beaming with pride and excitement. “He did it!” you shout, lifting him up in your arms as you join in the celebration.

Caco and a couple of the mechanics help you and Rafael to get to the barriers, weaving through the throng of celebrating fans and team members. As you approach the barriers, Rafael’s excitement is noticeable. His eyes are wide with wonder, and he clutches his mini helmet tightly, bouncing with every step. Caco, with his warm, reassuring smile, offers a few words of congratulations and gives Rafael a high-five. Carlos comes into view, his car parked in the parc fermé. His grin is infectious, and you can see the joy and relief in his eyes as he looks up at you and Rafael. The moment he gets out of the car, he’s enveloped by his team, but his gaze quickly finds you and Rafael. He finds his way to you after getting weighed and you can see him grab his cap before finally rushing towards you. Carlos scoops Rafael up into his arms, spinning him around as they both laugh, and then turns to you, his eyes shining with gratitude and affection.

“Well, looks like we’ve got a baby sister or brother to start thinking about,” Carlos says with a wink, setting Rafael down so he can pull you a in for a kiss.

You smile against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the joy of this moment. When you pull away, you look up at Carlos, your eyes sparkling with love and excitement. “We do, don’t we?” you say softly, your heart full as you take in the sight of your family together in this victorious moment.

Rafael, still buzzing with excitement, tugs on Carlos’ sleeve, his little voice bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Papa, did you see me cheering? I was so loud!”

Carlos laughs, his eyes crinkling with joy. “I heard you, buddy. You were the loudest cheerleader out there.”

As the celebration continues around you, you feel a profound sense of contentment. The day’s events, the race, the emotions—everything has come together perfectly. You take a deep breath, savouring the feeling of being surrounded by the people you love most.

Carlos pulls you close, wrapping his arms around both you and Rafael. “Thank you for everything today,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’ve made this day even more special.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart. “It’s been an incredible day,” you agree, looking out at the jubilant scene around you. “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend it with anyone else.”

As you watch him savour the moments with your son before he needs to go for his interview and the podium celebrations, you realise just how lucky you are to have something that only happens every few lifetimes.

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

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brunchable · 3 months ago

Text

POV: You're sucked into your Fanfic - Part Three

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Writer!fReader Themes/Warning: Comedy - Chaotic Duo (mainly y/n), breaking 4th wall. Fanfic Bucky meets his writer. Swearing. Summary: So you got kicked out of your own fanfic and know you have to go to work and face real life problems. . . or so you thought. A/N: Listen, don't expect this fanfic to be well organized because it's not supposed to be. I don't know where I am going with this yet, do enjoy this chaotic fanfic with me for now lmfao.

tags: @winterslove1917 @zeeader @iamdedsthingz @hzdhrtss @almosttoopizza

@yiiiikesmish @literaryavenger @aquabrie @ramp-it-up @nash-dara

@winchestert101

You leap out of your car like a bat out of hell, convinced that you’re finally back to normal life. No more fanfic shenanigans, no more redemption arcs gone wrong. Just a regular, boring job where I definitely won’t have to deal with anything weird.

As you stumble into the elevator, trying to untangle yourself from your coat and shove a half-eaten granola bar into your mouth, you breathe a sigh of relief. Finally. Back to real life.

You slap the “Close Door” button repeatedly, desperate to get moving. The elevator hums, the doors sliding halfway shut. But just as they’re about to close completely, they flicker—a sudden, sharp flicker of the lights overhead—and the entire elevator rumbles like it’s having a midlife crisis.

Your eyes widen as the lights dim and flicker again, the walls creaking.

“Uh... what the hell?”

You press the button frantically, but the flickering intensifies for a brief moment, making the whole thing feel more like the start of a horror movie than an office elevator ride.

Weird. Really weird. But then, just as quickly as it started, the flickering stops, the lights stabilize, and the doors begin to glide open again.

The doors glide back open, and in walks CEO Bucky Barnes, striding into the elevator like he owns not only the building but the entire damn planet. And the universe beyond that. He’s dressed in a sleek, tailored suit, the kind that screams: I make more money in an hour than you’ll see in a lifetime.

Your granola bar nearly falls out of your mouth as you press yourself against the elevator wall like a frightened mouse, eyes wide.

“Oh, come on.”

Bucky glances at you, arching an eyebrow as he steps inside, completely unbothered. He casually hits the close button, taking a bite out of the apple he’s holding, and then gives you a look, as if your entire existence is mildly amusing.

Oh, no. When I said I want to go back I meant in my other fanfic, NOT THIS. You swallow hard, gripping the railing in the elevator. Is this another one of those fanfics I wrote and abandoned?

You glance at him again, suddenly realizing the flickering, the rumbling, the tailored suit, and the attitude. This is definitely not the action Bucky from before. Nope, this is CEO Bucky, and apparently, he has zero patience for your existence.

Great.

You groan internally, wishing you could rewind the last five minutes of your life.

He’s holding an apple—eating it, actually—like some kind of smug Greek god. The crunch echoes in the small space of the elevator, and with every bite, you can practically hear your sanity cracking.

You backup more—if it’s even possible—against the corner of the elevator, eyes wide, heart pounding.

“Oh my God. Oh no, no, no—” you mutter to yourself, eyes darting around like you might find an emergency escape hatch.

Bucky side-eyes you, not missing a beat as he takes another crunch of his apple. He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your sudden and very visible panic attack.

“You’re late,” he says casually, as if pointing out the weather. The way he speaks, smooth and lazy, is enough to send a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t even look fully at you—just a quick glance that screams you are insignificant in my kingdom.

Your eyes dart around the elevator, fully cornered now.

“Wh— I—Late? What—no, I’m not late!” You tug at your coat, flustered, hands shaking as you clutch your bag like it’s a lifeline. “I mean—yes, I’m late, but also... what are you doing here?”

CEO Bucky pauses mid-bite, looking at you as if you’ve just sprouted two heads. He finally turns fully toward you, taking another slow, calculated bite of his apple.

“What am I doing here? I own this building.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like you should already be bowing down to him or, at the very least, shining his shoes. His eyebrow arches higher, and his lips quirk up at the corner into the slightest smirk. A smirk that makes you want to scream and faint simultaneously.

You sputter, pressing yourself further into the elevator corner like you’re trying to melt into the walls.

“Right. Of course. You’re the CEO. That’s... that’s normal. Completely normal. You just... randomly show up in elevators eating apples and ruining people’s lives.”

“You always this chaotic first thing in the morning?” He shakes his head slowly, clearly unimpressed with your rambling.

“What—excuse me? Chaotic?” You blink, momentarily thrown off.

He takes one last bite of his apple before tossing it in the trash bin in the corner with a smooth flick of his wrist.

“Yeah,” he says, turning to face the elevator doors as they slide shut. “Usually you’re nice and quiet”

You gape at him, jaw practically on the floor. “Nice and quiet?!”

The elevator starts to move again, and you just stare at the back of his head, blinking rapidly. This can’t be real. This CAN’T be real. You glance up at the ceiling, half expecting the universe to laugh in your face.

“Right, okay,” you mutter to yourself. “Cool. I’m in a scrapped fanfic where CEO Bucky Barnes exists and I’m... late for something. That’s fine. Totally fine.”

The elevator dings as it reaches another floor, and you brace yourself for whatever happens next.

Bucky side-eyes you again, folding his arms, his suit jacket stretching over his broad shoulders in a way that is entirely too distracting.

“Try not to make this a habit,” he says coolly, his voice dripping with condescension.

You blink. “What—what habit?”

He shrugs casually. “Being late. And whatever this is,” he gestures to you, still cornered and clearly flustered, “your whole... thing.”

“My whole thing?” You’re so flustered you don’t even know what to say. “This isn’t even a thing! I don’t have a thing! This is just... my life, okay?”

Bucky smirks, his gaze sliding over you like he’s assessing whether or not you’ll survive the next five minutes.

“Yeah,” he mutters, stepping out as the elevator doors open again. “Totally, your thing.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You’re left standing there, dumbfounded, staring at the empty space where he was just seconds ago.

The elevator doors close again, and you let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I hate this fanfic already.”

× × × ×

You sit at your desk, your fingers tapping anxiously on the keyboard, but your brain is doing everything but work. It’s going a million miles a minute, trying to piece together what exactly happened to land you in this ridiculous situation.

You glance down at the stack of papers on your desk, all labeled with the company’s sleek logo, and let out a long, tortured groan.

Then it hits you like a freight train: You’re Bucky Barnes’ assistant. This is what you wrote months ago before you rage-quit the whole story.

Your head drops into your hands. Fuuuuck.

“What was this about again?!” you mutter under your breath, trying to dig through the mental files of your abandoned fanfic plot.

You remember vaguely setting this story up to be some kind of CEO!AU where Bucky was... what? Brooding and powerful? Sexy, for sure. In control of everything? Definitely. You were supposed to be some mild-mannered assistant who totally had her life together.

But that was so not you either. You had given up on this story for a reason—writer problems. Why did I even scrap this plot again? Oh right. Because it got so cringey you couldn't even finish it.

You try to think back to why this fanfic had hit the writer’s block wall. It was something to do with the plot going absolutely nowhere. You had no idea where to take it, so naturally, you abandoned it like a badly cooked lasagna and moved on to the next story with more action and less... corporate nonsense.

And now, here I am, stuck in the very fanfic I gave up on because I couldn’t figure out what would happen next. Fantastic.

You sigh dramatically, rubbing your temples. Great. I’m in an unfinished fanfic where I don’t even know the plot. Awesome. Totally normal day.

Just as you’re contemplating throwing yourself out the window—or at least hiding in the bathroom for the next eight hours—you decide to take a break. Maybe you can sneak out for five minutes and regroup. Get your chaotic brain together before CEO Bucky calls you for something ridiculous like filing his taxes or fetching his tenth coffee of the day.

You push away from your desk and stand up, trying to be stealthy. But just as you make your way toward the door—

“Hey, you.”

You freeze mid-step. Oh for fuck sake.

Slowly, like a guilty child caught sneaking out of class, you turn around. There’s CEO Bucky, leaning against his office doorframe, arms crossed like some kind of modern-day Greek god. His suit is perfectly tailored, every inch of him screams I own this place, and of course, he’s got that little smirk that makes your brain short-circuit.

He gestures with two fingers, that damn lazy motion that makes you feel like you’ve been summoned by royalty.

“Come here.”

Your eye twitches.

“I have a name, you know,” you say before you can stop yourself, crossing your arms defensively. It’s completely out of character for the version of yourself that you wrote into this fanfic, but your chaotic brain can’t help it.

Bucky pauses, clearly not expecting you to talk back. His eyebrows lift slightly, and then that smirk grows even wider, like you’ve just amused him.

“Do you now?”

You groan internally. Oh crap.

But now you’re stuck, because CEO Bucky Barnes, in all his smug glory, is eyeing you like a predator who’s just found something interesting to toy with.

“Yeah, last I checked,” you say, now fully committed to the chaos as you shuffle closer, arms still crossed like you’re trying to shield yourself from the intense vibes he’s putting off. “It’s not ‘hey you,’ it’s Y/N.”

He chuckles softly, leaning back slightly and watching you approach. “Y/N, huh? Interesting.”

You squint at him, already regretting your entire life. “Why is that interesting?”

He shrugs, still smirking. “I don’t know. I like ‘hey you.’ It fits you.”

You resist the urge to scream into the void. “Well, I’m taking a break, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“Break?” He interrupts, his smirk not fading. “You’ve been here what... five minutes?”

You open your mouth to argue, but the way he’s looking at you—like he knows exactly how to push your buttons—makes your brain scramble.

“I need to regroup. You know... organize my thoughts. Get my head in the game.”

His smirk widens as he watches you try to squirm out of the conversation. “Right. Organize your thoughts. Good luck with that.”

You blink at him, genuinely baffled by how this man manages to look so smug while saying so little.

“This is why I scrapped this fanfic,” you mutter, too quiet for him to hear. “Why did I write him like this? All smirky and... and haughty and... ugh.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, clearly noticing your muttering, but chooses not to comment.

“You’re really something,” you grumble under your breath as you turn and make a beeline for the door, desperate for some air.

You can feel his eyes on you as you walk away, and just before you leave the room, you hear him chuckle again.

“I’m sure you’ll do great. Don’t get lost on your... regrouping.”

You grit your teeth, giving him a tight smile as you exit the office. “Sure. I’ll be regrouping. Totally.”

The moment you’re out of his sight, you let out a groan, practically melting against the hallway wall. How do I survive this fanfic?

And then, like a jolt of lightning, you remember why you gave up on this fanfic. Because Bucky Barnes as a smug, controlling CEO is TOO MUCH!

You smack your forehead, slumping down the wall. “I am so screwed.”

× × × ×

You return to your desk, a glass of water in hand, mentally cursing your decision to ever write CEO Bucky Barnes the way you did. Smug, intense, and probably the reason for my inevitable breakdown. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as you plop into your chair.

I can do this. I survived getting my ass beat up by action Bucky. I just have to survive the day. No more weirdness.

But, of course, life—or rather, your fanfic—has other plans.

As you sit down and try to focus, you hear the sound of high heels clicking against the floor, getting closer. You glance up, and there she is: Bucky’s soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. The character you completely forgot about when you abandoned this fanfic. She turns on her heel, clearly satisfied with her silent insult, but something inside you snaps.

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out in a deep, gangster voice, “Da fuCK you lookin’ at, Discount Cruella?”

She freezes mid-step, as if you’ve just slapped her with a fish. Her head turns slowly, like she can’t quite believe you just called her that. You add a taunting little eyebrow raise, tipping your chin up like you’re daring her to respond.

What the hell just came out of my mouth? You blink, stunned by your own voice, but you don’t back down. Commit, commit!

She glares, her jaw tightening. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” you say, leaning back in your chair, sipping your water. “You struttin’ around like some budget Bond villain? What, you think I’m intimidated by your off-brand designer knock-offs? Please. I’ve seen scarier outfits at Walmart.”

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she turns with a dramatic huff and stalks off, her heels clicking furiously against the floor.

You lean back even further, casually waving after her. “Yeah, you better walk away, Dollar shop Donatella!”

She disappears down the hallway, leaving you feeling victorious, if not a little surprised at your own audacity.

You take another sip of water and mutter to yourself, “I swear, this fanfic is making me brave... or stupid. Probably stupid.”

As you’re mentally patting yourself on the back for that little victory, you hear footsteps approaching again. You look up, expecting it to be her again, but nope—it’s Bucky.

“Hey, you,” he says, that smooth, infuriating voice drawing your attention.

You roll your eyes but try to act casual. “Yeah, what now, boss?”

Before he can answer, you take a sip of water—probably the worst-timed sip of your life.

Bucky’s just about to say something, but the sight of him leaning casually against your desk, all brooding and smug and tall and sexy, makes you choke on your water. You try to hold it in, but before you can stop it—

PFFFFTTTTT!!!

You spit your water all over him. Like, right in his face.

Time freezes. Bucky blinks, water dripping from his face and his perfectly styled hair. He looks stunned, as if this is the first time in his entire smug CEO existence that someone has dared to water-blast him.

You freeze, your eyes wide in horror. “Oh. My. God.”

Bucky wipes his face with the back of his hand, his expression unreadable as he stares at you. You panic, leaping out of your chair and rushing over to him, grabbing the nearest paper towel in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“I am so, so sorry!” you babble, dabbing furiously at his face, then his shirt, then—oh no, his chest. Holy crap, his chest.

You keep muttering in a frantic whisper. “Oh my God, his muscles. I’m touching the muscles—holy crap, I am such a perv. This is inappropriate workplace behavior—so much muscle—why did I write him this way?”

You write every Bucky character this way.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, watching you with a mix of amusement and confusion as you continue to pat him down like he’s a spilled drink.

“Are you... okay?”

You blink up at him, paper towel still in hand, your brain short-circuiting.

“I—uh—what? Yeah! Totally fine. Just, you know, touching muscles—I mean—patting you down! Because of the water! That I... spat in your face. Oh my God, I spat water in your face.”

Bucky chuckles, his smirk back in full force. “Well, this is definitely a first.”

“I’m going to die of embarrassment now. Please, just... let me dissolve into the floor.” You groan, backing away from him with the soaked paper towel in hand.

Bucky, now completely unfazed by the whole situation, shrugs and gives you a half-smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just water.”

You stare at him, still mortified, and mutter under your breath, “I hate this fanfic.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. Instead of heading back to his office, though, he leans in slightly, his gaze flicking down to your water glass and then back to your face.

You freeze. Oh God, why is he leaning in? Your brain is already preparing to short-circuit again. What now? Is he about to call me out on my water-spitting habits? Does he smell fear?!

“Actually…” Bucky says, his voice dropping, his smirk now in full dangerous levels of smirkiness mode. “There was something else.”

Your heart skips a beat. Oh no. Oh no, not again.

“Yeah?” you squeak, gripping your water glass like it’s your last hope of survival. “What’s that?”

He leans in a fraction closer, his eyes practically dancing with mischief.

“I was going to ask you for the Henderson file, but now I’m thinking...” He pauses dramatically, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “Maybe you should get me a towel first.”

Your jaw drops. “A towel?!”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, not missing a beat, “since you’re so keen on throwing water at people.”

You blink at him, utterly mortified. “I didn’t throw it! I just—ugh, fine! I’ll get you a towel.”

He grins wider. “Good. And then... you can grab the Henderson file.”

“I’m not your assistant and your personal dry cleaner!” You groan, turning to leave, but of course, you have to get in one last grumble.

Bucky watches you, highly amused. “You sure? You seemed pretty eager to pat me down a minute ago.”

You freeze mid-step, spinning around with wide eyes.

“Oh my God, I—I wasn’t—I was just trying to—you know what? Never mind!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m getting the damn towel!”

You rush off toward the break room, muttering under your breath the entire way. “This fanfic is literally out to humiliate me. Why did I write him like this? Why, past me, WHY?”

Behind you, you swear you hear Bucky chuckle softly, and it only makes you walk faster.

× × × ×

Y/N, now on a mission to redeem herself after the whole spitting water fiasco, rushes back to her desk with the Henderson file in one hand and a towel in the other. No more screw-ups, you tell yourself. No more embarrassing moments. I’m going to act like a professional human being for once.

You take a deep breath before stepping into Bucky’s office. He’s seated behind his desk, looking as composed as ever, typing away on his computer. Cool, calm, collected, you remind yourself. You carefully place the file on his desk, and then with way too much flourish, dramatically whip out the towel.

“Your towel, sir!” you announce like you’re a butler in an old movie, bowing slightly for extra effect.

Bucky glances up from his computer, one eyebrow raised. “Thanks... I think?”

You nod seriously, trying to keep a straight face.

“Only the finest hand towels for the World’s Wettest CEO,” you add, clearly not able to stop yourself from clowning.

Bucky’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s definitely a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“You know, usually assistants don’t mock their boss right after spitting water on them.”

Before you can fire back with something clever, he stands up and—without breaking eye contact—starts stripping off his jacket.

Your eyes widen to saucer-size. Oh SHIT. Look at those biceps, I bet he could crack an egg with those.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you blurt, taking a cautious step back. Your eyes dart to the door, your brain immediately thinking of the worst possible scenario.

Bucky casually shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto his chair, and takes a slow step toward you. His sleeves are rolled up just enough to show off those forearms—and, holy hell, is it getting hotter in here?

You gulp, stumbling back another step. “Why are you coming closer? What—no, don’t come any closer!”

But he doesn’t stop. In fact, he smirks as he undoes the top button of his shirt, rolling up his sleeves even higher as if he’s about to give you some kind of private show.

Your brain completely short-circuits.

“I will call the police!” you shout dramatically, pointing a shaky finger at him. “Don’t make me do it! I have a phone!”

Bucky takes another step, clearly enjoying watching you unravel.

“Stop!” you squeak, backing up so fast that you almost trip over your own feet. “I swear, if you come any closer—Please! I’m a virgin!”

Wait. WHAT? Did that actually just come out of my mouth?

Bucky stops in his tracks, his brow furrowing in pure confusion. His smirk falters, and he blinks at you like you’ve lost your mind—which, honestly, you might have.

“Wait, what?”

You slap your hands over your mouth.

“Not... not really!” you blurt, mortified, feeling your face turn a thousand shades of red. “I just—what—I mean, I don’t know why I said that! Forget I said that! WHY DID I SAY THAT?”

Bucky stares at you, clearly torn between laughing and being genuinely confused by your outburst.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You point at him again, eyes still wide. “You were stripping! I thought—I don’t know what I thought! I thought you were about to—look, can you just—stop doing whatever it is you’re doing?”

“I was just getting comfortable. You’re the one making this weird.” He finally gives in and lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“I’M MAKING THIS WEIRD?!” you shout, nearly flailing in disbelief. “You just started stripping in your office like we’re in some kind of romance novel!” Well. . .technically. . .

Bucky shrugs, clearly amused by your total meltdown. “I wasn’t even halfway through, and you’re already threatening to call the cops.”

“I panicked!” you cry, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “What do you expect when you come at me like some... some walking smirk with biceps?”

“Relax, hey you, I’m not gonna bite.” He takes one more step toward you, the grin on his face infuriatingly smug.

“Right... okay... great. But, uh, no more sudden movements, okay? I don’t think my dignity can take another hit today.” You’re still staring at him, pulse racing, trying to get your heart back to normal.

Bucky, still smirking, unbuttons his shirt completely, slipping it off and tossing it aside as if the entire interaction hasn’t completely short-circuited your brain. Now, he’s shirtless, and your brain is screaming

NOPE, NOPE, yes NOPE.

But he doesn’t stop there. Bucky takes another step closer, clearly enjoying the absolute chaos unfolding on your face. He gestures toward the towel still clutched in your hand.

"Since you’re so eager to help, why don’t you pat me dry?”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?!”

He tilts his head, completely unfazed by your reaction. “You spat water on me. Now it’s only fair you clean up the mess.”

You clutch the towel tighter, staring at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Do you not have arms? You seem perfectly capable of drying yourself off with all these...” you gesture wildly to his bare chest, your voice rising in pitch, “...muscles!”

“I’m not saying I can’t. I just thought you might want to.” Bucky chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Your face is practically on fire at this point. “Oh, I’m sure you’re more than qualified to handle it yourself!” you say, thrusting the towel toward him. “I’ll just—uh—get you some new clothes! Right?”

Bucky shrugs, clearly still enjoying your mortification. “Sure. Or you can keep patting me down. Your call.”

“I WILL NOT BE PATTING ANYTHING,” you declare, your voice an octave too high as you spin around and dash toward the door. “I’ll get your clothes!”

“Take your time.” As you stumble out of the office, you can hear Bucky’s soft chuckle behind you.

You groan internally, your face still burning as you make your escape.

“This is getting worse and worse,” you mutter under your breath, gripping the door handle a little too tight. “I miss action Bucky. At least he wasn’t... shirtless and smug! God, why is this happening to me?”

You rush out the door, praying for some kind of divine intervention—or at least for your brain to stop short-circuiting every time you’re within ten feet of his ridiculous muscles.

You blink, and suddenly the world shifts beneath your feet. One second you’re in the office, still mentally head-slamming yourself for your awkward slip-up, and the next, you’re standing in front of two massive, intimidating double doors.

You blink again, confused. “Wha—What the—Wait... where the hell am I?”

Your eyes scan your surroundings, and it finally hits you—you’re in some fancy penthouse building, way too expensive-looking to be anywhere near your normal, boring life. And then, just as you’re about to piece things together, glowing words flash above your head:

Business Proposal, Part 4: Sick Leave

You stare up at the words in disbelief, slowly lowering your water bottle. It went up to Part Four?!

“That’s new,” you mutter, looking around as if someone’s watching you. “Why does this feel like some kind of twisted game show?”

Before you can contemplate further, a voice—loud, deep, dramatic, and all-knowing (totally not Bucky’s voice)— suddenly echoes around you, narrating your life like it’s the season finale of a telenovela.

“It’s been a few days since Bucky’s break-up with Yasmine, and Y/N has been very worried—”

“No, I’m not,” you cut off the voice, raising your hand like you’re silencing an annoying ad.

The narrator pauses, then comes back, clearly annoyed. “Yes, you are.”

You cross your arms defiantly. “Nope. Not worried. Zero percent concerned. I barely even remember her name—Yasmine, was it? See? Forgettable.”

There’s an exasperated sigh from the unseen narrator.

“Yes. You are. Bucky’s been distant, and you can’t help but wonder if this is affecting him more than he’s letting on—”

“Oh my God, I literally do not care,” you interrupt again, dramatically rolling your eyes toward the sky, wondering if you could just teleport out of this madness. “Can I at least care about something that doesn’t sound like a rejected soap opera plot?”

“You do care,” the voice insists, the irritation building. “You’ve been wracking your brain about how to comfort him, wondering if now is the right time to—"

You wave both hands in the air like you’re directing traffic. “Nope. Absolutely not. I’m not showing him anything. If anything, I need a vacation. A spa day. A break from all this fanfic insanity.”

There’s a very heavy pause, like the narrator’s deciding whether to keep talking or just yeet themselves into the void to escape you.

Then, with maximum exasperation, the voice finally asks, “Do you ever just shut up?”

You gasp, clutching your chest in mock horror. “Wow! Rude! Is that how you treat all your characters? Is this why all my stories keep getting abandoned halfway through? Is this your fault?”

There’s a very, very tired sigh. “You do know this is your story, right?”

You blink, then scratch your head. “Oh yeah...”

You can practically feel the narrator rolling their eyes, probably contemplating retirement.

“Fine,” the narrator says, now with the exhausted tone of someone who just ran a marathon through an obstacle course of idiocy. “You’re not worried. But you are here at Bucky’s penthouse, and he’s expecting you. And deep down—”

“I literally do not care!” you yell, flailing your arms like a cartoon character.

The narrator groans again, even louder this time. “Why do I even bother?”

“Honestly? I’ve been wondering the same thing,” you mutter, finally stepping forward to push open the ridiculously huge doors. “Let’s just get this over with. What’s next? Is Bucky going to burst into song? Or is this the part where I accidentally knock over some expensive art?”

“For the love of—Just get your ass inside!” the narrator snaps, sounding like they’re one sarcastic comment away from quitting entirely.

You pause, your hand hovering over the doorknob, and then snort. “Wow. Testy, aren’t we? Someone needs a narrator spa day.”

There’s a long, drawn-out sigh that echoes in the hallway, clearly done with your antics.

“I’m just saying,” you add with a shrug, “I’ve been through a lot today. I feel like a little sass is warranted.” You push open the door with an exaggerated flourish, muttering, “I swear, if Bucky’s standing there with some dramatic lighting or a tragic backstory about Yasmine, I’m out.”

The narrator doesn’t respond, probably because they’re off somewhere wishing they had another job. You step through the doors, bracing yourself for whatever ridiculous fanfic nonsense is about to hit you next.

You step through the doors, fully expecting some serious businessman vibes from Bucky. Maybe sitting behind a giant mahogany desk, brooding over paperwork, casually looking out at the city skyline like the high-powered CEO you wrote him to be.

But no. Instead, you find Bucky on the couch, wrapped in what can only be described as the world's most excessive blanket burrito.

His hair’s a mess, his nose is red, and—oh my God—he’s holding a mug like it’s the last ounce of warmth in the universe. Surrounding him? A small fortress of tissues and cold medicine.

This is not CEO behavior!

His head slowly turns toward you, his eyes slightly puffy, and you swear there’s a pitiful sparkle in them. He sniffs dramatically, like a rom-com hero in his darkest hour.

“Y/N?”

Your brain stutters. “I—uh—what?”

“I think... I’m dying,” he whispers hoarsely.

You blink at him, completely dumbfounded. Oh, this is bad. This is really bad. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It’s the “sick love interest” trope. Your life has officially hit peak cliché.

“Dying?” you repeat, hands on your hips. “Aren’t you, like, a super soldier? And a CEO? You manage hostile takeovers and boardroom battles, and now you’re... this?”

Bucky sniffles again, managing to look both miserable and somehow, annoyingly attractive. He shifts under the mountain of blankets and croaks out.

“I’ve never been this sick in my life.”

“You have a cold. A cold.” You cross your arms, staring down at the pathetic excuse of a man swaddled like a sad burrito.

He coughs dramatically, like the very act is draining his soul.

“It feels like... more than that.” His eyes meet yours, shining with exaggerated sorrow. “Can you... can you make me some tea?”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. This man is running an entire company, and right now, I’m supposed to be... what? His nanny?

“You’re serious?” you ask, incredulous.

Bucky nods weakly, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

“With honey. And lemon,” he rasps, voice full of the weight of his tragic illness. “Please.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes so hard you might strain something, and head to the kitchen.

“What happened to you, man? You’re supposed to be intimidating! A force to be reckoned with! What is this?”

He sneezes loudly from the couch, followed by a pitiful groan. “I’m emotionally compromised.”

You pause mid-step. “You’re emotionally compromised... because you have a cold?”

Another tragic sniffle. “It’s more than a cold. It’s the end.”

You fill the kettle, trying not to laugh. “The end? Of what? Your dignity?”

From the couch, Bucky coughs again—this time sounding even more over-the-top dramatic, like he’s trying out for a role in a period drama.

“I think it’s... fatal.”

“Oh my God, you’re unbelievable,” you mutter, pouring the hot water into a mug, stirring in honey and lemon. “How are you the same guy who intimidates boardrooms? This is embarrassing.”

Carrying the tea back to him, you set it on the table in front of him with a flourish. “Here’s your tea, Mr. CEO. I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You’re... my hero.” He takes the mug with both hands, looking up at you with wide, grateful eyes.

You deadpan at him. “If you expect me to wipe your nose, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Bucky takes a sip of the tea, then stares at you like you just saved his entire existence.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You sigh, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, staring at him like a tired parent. “Is this what rich people do? Get over-the-top colds and drag innocent assistants into their melodrama?”

“It’s not just a cold. I’m suffering.” He pouts, snuggling deeper into his blanket cocoon, clearly loving every second of the attention.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m suffering too, buddy.”

Bucky coughs again, though you notice it’s less dramatic this time. “You’d do this for me, though... right?”

“Do what? Be your unpaid nursemaid?”

“Would you?” Bucky flashes a smirk, though it’s weak and slightly pathetic due to his current burrito state.

You sigh, feeling like you’ve officially reached rock bottom. “Sure, why not. What’s next? Should I bring you soup and read you a bedtime story?”

His eyes light up. “Could you bring me soup?”

You throw your hands in the air, standing up in mock surrender. “Oh my God, I walked right into that one.”

From the couch, Bucky manages to look even more pitiful. “Please?”

“I swear, if this turns into a romantic montage, I’m jumping out the window.” You groan dramatically, heading back to the kitchen.

Somewhere, the narrator’s voice hums, clearly enjoying this too much. "And so, Y/N found herself drawn into a reluctant role of caretaker, tending to Bucky's every need—"

“OH MY GOD, NO!” you shout to the ceiling. “Not this trope! Why is this happening?!”

Bucky, now fully alert, blinks at you. "Who... are you shouting at?”

The narrator sighs dramatically. “You’re really ruining the ambiance.”

Bucky's eyes narrow, looking around the room as if someone's going to pop out of the walls. "Seriously, who are you talking to?”

“GOOD,” you snap, ladling soup into a bowl. “Ambiance is overrated.”

Bucky frowns, staring at you like you've completely lost it. "You're... really freaking me out right now."

You mutter under your breath, "Join the club, pal.”

As you return with the soup, you place it in front of Bucky, who looks up at you with the sad puppy eyes again. “Thanks for taking care of me, Y/N.”

“This is my life now, isn’t it? Fanfic sick-nurse tropes and soup.” You groan, staring at the ceiling.

The narrator hums again. “Exactly.”

You dramatically flop down on the couch next to Bucky. “Next time, just write me into an action scene. I miss action Bucky.”

“Action Bucky’s tired. Let CEO Bucky have his moment.”

You groan again, burying your face in a pillow. This fanfic is literally trying to kill me.

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mage-ical-character-person · 1 year ago

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He’s an insecure little robot who is very stupid and probably doesn’t understand the concept of children in the first place.

So he thinks it’s acceptable to mock the science projects of dead children. I guess. Children that if they somehow survived the initial incident probably died under his care later because he can’t be bothered to properly care for the smelly humans.

stupid insecurity ball says well I could be better at science than. A baby. And convinces himself that’s a legitimate accomplishment.

one thing that completely and utterly baffles me is how people can play through the bring your daughter to work day but and still delude themselves into thinking that wheatley is nice. like okay maybe i can understand the lack of media comprehension anywhere else bc he backtracks a lot. but he does not say ONE nice thing about those childrens science projects at ALL. and find every way to belittle them. like come onnnnn. you have to see that right? right?? whats the excuse??

#My first instinctive thought when I see him is still: friend!! :D!! And I can’t stop myself from responding that way to him #but he’s a little jerk who does not consider the consequences of his actions #Like on some level I can relate to sometimes saying things that sound mean out loud but not in my head. But seriously #I don’t think he’s intentionally malicious most of the time? But he is very selfish. And doesn’t consider the feelings of others #like at all #We got GLaDOS redemption arc sorta (still mean but less murdery. Not that I blame her for the murder given the circumstances.)#Wheatley redemption that also avoids over-villainizing the other characters and acknowledges WHY he needs a redemption when #like GLaDOS and Chell got some kind of closure. GLaDOS also got over her fear of birds in favor of weaponizing them #which is additional something?#and Wheatley and the other cores get nothing. Like I get that they’re secondary characters.#But Wheatley. Little Wheatley. He got the wake-up call of a lifetime and then what?#Companion cube got more closure than Wheatley #wheatley #portal

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damnfandomproblems · 8 months ago

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Fandom Problem #4928:

One interesting thing I've noticed is how much antis hate redemption arcs for sympathetic villains who canonically have suffered from a lifetime of abuse and manipulation (or "were sad once for five minutes 🙄" as antis always call it every time the topic comes up) but they also think THEIR history of past abuse gives them license to abuse others without criticism or consequence as ling as they think they're justified and righteous.

I think it involves the mindset of how "abusers" and "abuse victims" could never ever belong to the same category and are in fact two entirely separate species of human. its "How DARE you say I'm anything like my abuser??" When abuse IS a cyclical and generational problem.

News flash, those redemption arcs don't exist to try to "make us feel bad for abusers." They're there to help us forgive ourselves and give hope that we could stop the cycles of abuse. If you're the type to go "ew, I can't believe people say they RELATE to this VILLAIN??" maybe try and think why you think you're exempt from that, rather than going "nope, nuh uh, not me, that could NEVER be me, because I've been abused that means I could never abuse, it's impossible" Reflect on the fact that it IS possible, and have the self-awareness required to avoid it, instead of thinking that it could never happen.

#ask box submission #fandom problem 4928

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pridesobright · 3 months ago

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hours later and it still doesn't feel real. i'm heartbroken and even more distressed due to the gruesome nature of his passing.

after 12+ years of being a directioner, i know all too well that one direction achieved immense highs at the cost of many lows. people see harry styles selling out massive venues but i see a 16-year-old boy being called names no minor should ever be called. i see louis and the grief he already suffered through enough for a lifetime. i see zayn coming back from so far. i see niall. i see liam.

i'll never be able to forget what the media, the industry, and their own label expected of them at such a young age. i'll never look past some of the vile people who gravitated around them for too long.

and i think perhaps this is why i'm all the more sad. because i know not everyone gets a redemption arc. i know not everyone deserves one. it is true liam made choices i'll never understand or excuse. i just naively thought that after everything those five men went through, life would finally be kinder. i guess i was wrong.

#it's just-#f*ck #one direction deserve solace #jess parle à la lune #1d #lp

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mswyrr · 11 months ago

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After twenty years, the thing I still don't get is that everything cruel that can be said and has been said against Zutara romance can also be said against their friendship--and Zuko's friendships with the other characters!--and yet somehow friendship is always good and pure but romance would immediately make their healthy friendship dynamic bad and abusive???

But that's not how relationships work. If they can have a healthy friendship, then they could have a healthy romance. If any romance is inherently unhealthy, then the friendship must be inherently unhealthy too.

You've got the original writers saying women who think that Katara and Zuko should be together will forever have "failed relationships"... and then, at the same time, those same writers are like yay let's write them bonding and building a friendship.

People calling a brutally abused child who went on a redemption arc and turned against his father's ways a "colo/nizer" when it's a romance, but when it's friendship it's all good somehow. If lips never touch, it's not possible for a relationship to be toxic??? But if lips DO touch, then a healthy friendship based on mutual respect immediately becomes a Lifetime movie about toxic boyfriends...

The only way this logic works is if you think romantic love immediately "corrupts" or "taints" in a way friend love doesn't. And that's an incredibly ugly, sad idea to push.

#zutara #atla meta #i'm actively hoping that if the live action does k/a they do it better #and in a way where K is treated more like a heroine #falling in love #than an object of desire for K #but... at the same time #i can't believe the stuff people say about z/k #i get my ship isn't going to be canon but i don't think it needs to be to be a good interesting dynamic nonetheless #and people just say the wildest most asinine things

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kuzann · 1 year ago

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Idk if anyone's played around with this idea but post-AGIT clone-body Dan visits Amity Park where Dash mistakes him for the real Danny and tries to bully him

which is a huge mistake

because Dan happily gives him the thrashing of a lifetime and strolls away in a really good mood.

Dash tries to blame Danny but no one believes him because Danny Fenton, being able to beat up Dash Baxter?? You've seen how small that kid is right? Dash stop messing around, you got hurt doing something super embarrassing or illegal didn't you? Come on man what was the actual thing you did come on you probably realize that saying Fenton beat you up makes you look worse than whatever thing you probably did right?

Cue Dash trying to prove that Danny is secretly stronger than he actually is, only to be foiled at every turn because Danny and friends caught on to what he's trying to do. Maybe Vlad foils him too cause Dan is supposed to be his responsibility and it was Dan who got Danny into this mess to begin with.

Eventually Dan lets Dash see him with Danny, they explain that Dan is his cousin, but also so Dash doesn't go back to bullying Danny he tells Dash that if he ever touches his cousin again Dan will have to take a hand as recompense.

Dash never bothers Danny again. Maybe he gets to go on a redemption arc where he realizes how trash he's been to everyone below him on the social pecking order and how much those teens hate his guts for it and decides that he wants to change. idk. But he stops harassing Danny.

#Danny Phantom #Dark Danny #Dan Phantom #Danny Fenton #DP A Glitch In Time #Post-AGIT #Not tagging this with Dash's actual tag cause idk if Dash fans want this in the character tag??#Just gonna play it safe #What are the odds that one of the first things Dark Danny did after his creation was to go murder all the A-Listers except for Kwan #I wouldn't put it past him given how much Dash tormented him while he was still a half-ghost #Kwan was left alive so he could tell people what happened and spread fear of this horrible new murderghost #So any opportunity to torment Dash in the present is a hell yes for Dan

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soopersara · 2 years ago

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Recently, I've pondering Book 2 and 3 of ATLA, and I reached a conclusion that surprised me a little.

Specifically, this: Zuko would have been very unlikely to join Team Avatar if not for Katara.

Now I'm not saying that Zuko had a secret crush on her or anything. As much fun as that concept can be to explore in fics, I don't love the idea of Zuko's redemption being motivated by romantic interest, and his canonical arc is clearly driven by his own evolving understanding of the world and the morals that come along with that understanding. Still, if you cut out his interactions with Katara, especially in the crystal catacombs, I just don't see him ever taking that last step to turn against his father and join Team Avatar. He would have been discontented in the Fire Nation, sure. Spending a few years away from home with a guardian who genuinely cared about and protected him could easily push him that far all on its own. He might have become disillusioned enough with the Fire Nation and its role in the war to run away too. Zuko spent enough time in the Earth Kingdom, learning about the people and their suffering, to have doubts and regrets when he finally learned about Ozai's true plans.

But without Katara reaching out to him in the crystal catacombs (or more accurately, Zuko reaching out to sympathize with Katara, and Katara reciprocating), I'm not convinced that he would have considered his future or his place in the world enough to go farther than that. To leave and to join the enemy. And even if he had considered joining Team Avatar, I'm not convinced that he would have thought he had a chance of being accepted if he hadn't shared that moment in the crystal catacombs with Katara.

I mean... sure, Aang sort of reached out to Zuko way back in Book 1. But even leaving aside the fact that that was one moment several months before Zuko finally left home (and an offer that brief and that old is probably shaky at best), it wasn't an offer of friendship in quite the same way that Katara's kindness was. What Aang said to Zuko was:

You know what the worst part of being born over a hundred years ago is? I miss all the friends I used to hang out with. Before the war started, I used to always visit my friend Kuzon. The two of us, we'd get in and out of so much trouble together. He was one of the best friends I ever had, and he was from the Fire Nation, just like you. If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends, too?

"If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends, too?"

It's a hypothetical question. Aang is thinking back to a time before the war, to the people he knew in the Fire Nation an entire lifetime ago, and trying to imagine where Zuko might have fit into that time and those relationships. He doesn't reach out a hand to directly offer Zuko a friendship in the present (and frankly, it wouldn't make sense in the moment if he had), nor does he ever make another offer of friendship until after Zuko actually joins the team. Every encounter between Zuko and Aang from The Blue Spirit on through The Western Air Temple is either a) a fight, b) Aang sparing Zuko's life while Zuko is unconscious (and therefore unable to see the kind gesture and interpret it as an offer of friendship), c) unwilling cooperation against a common enemy, or d) ... That Face that Aang makes at Zuko after interrupting him and Katara in the crystal catacombs.

Maybe it's just me, but... none of those interactions exactly set up a strong foundation for a future friendship, or even a future alliance. If Aang's old "offer of friendship" was all Zuko had to go on, then joining Team Avatar would have been a long shot. An extremely long shot.

By contrast, Katara bares her heart to Zuko and, at least in the moment, makes it clear that her kindness is deliberate. They've fought against one another time after time, they've been unwilling allies in the fight against Azula, and they've had some... generally antagonistic face-to-face interactions as well. But even after all of that, Katara offers to heal Iroh with very little hesitation in The Chase, then offers compassion to Zuko himself in The Crossroads of Destiny. She openly shows Zuko that there's a chance for him, and even when he turns against her in CoD, her angry dialogue still reflects the fact that she thinks he can be better. That she wants and expects him to be better. "I thought you had changed" isn't just anger, it's also a sign that her trust and kindness in the catacombs was genuine.

It's a sign to Zuko that if he can become the person who Katara thought he was for those few minutes in the caverns beneath Ba Sing Se, he might be able to prove himself worthy of that same trust and kindness again. And once Zuko has finally had enough of living under his father's thumb, of sitting silent on the sidelines while the world burns around him, once he leaves his old life behind for good, it's the beacon that draws him onward into a new life and a new purpose.

I can't claim to know exactly what would have happened if Zuko had never shared those pre-redemption moments with Katara. I'm just one random fic writer in a quiet corner of the internet, but I don't think it's unreasonable to say that her kindness to him in Book 2 made his decision easier. Without Katara, Zuko still might have left the Fire Nation behind. He still might have told off his father and tried to rescue Iroh from prison during the eclipse, but that doesn't necessarily mean that his next step would have been to run off to the Western Air Temple and offer himself up as a teacher.

Without Katara, Zuko might have fallen into the cracks in between the Fire Nation and Team Avatar. He might have become a different type of dissenter - maybe a less obtrusive one, like Piandao or Jeong Jeong, or he might have fallen back into his vigilante persona. He might have gone searching for his mother while the war kept raging on the other side of the ocean, or he might have tried to settle down into the type of quiet life that Iroh wanted for them both in Ba Sing Se. But regardless of what choice Zuko would have made, I think it would have been much harder for him to choose Team Avatar if he hadn't had Katara's voice in the back of his mind, telling him that he could be better, and that if he was, he might have a place with her and her friends.

Ship them or not, Zuko and Katara had an incredible bond that shaped a lot of the show. And while I'm not exactly on Team 'Zuko had a secret crush on Katara from the beginning' because of what it can do to his character arc if it's not handled carefully, I think I just found myself squarely on Team 'Zuko changed because it was right, and Katara opened the door for everything that came after.'

#zutara #not necessarily romantic in this post #but you know how the fandom is #atla meta #zutara meta #zuko #katara

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everlastingdreams · 11 days ago

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The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 37

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Sins Of The Flesh

Notes: If It's too much, skip to the bottom part past the ~~~~~

!!!Special Warning for this chapter: Smut: Oral F/M recieving. Manual Stimulation F/M recieving. Scent-kink (yup). Some spicy talk.!!!

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter: 37/47

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Your mind came to a stop and took seconds to even try to find a response to that brave confession. He was so clearly nervous to speak of this, so worried he had blundered and ruined all.

Your response came, albeit delayed, “I was waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to tell me.”

He pushed the question out, “Is it common to think of it often?”

There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Did he truly fear there was something wrong with him for feeling desire?

Your hand caressed his chest. “More common than people might confess to. What has been going through your thoughts?”

Two seconds passed before he leaned in and quietly told what had been filling his daily thoughts. “I want to make you come undone, to see you like that again… Quivering from pleasure, my name rolling off of your tongue when you moan. The scent of your wetness putting me at your mercy.”

“You can smell…” You had forgotten how to breath normally, suddenly feeling far warmer, heart racing. Were your legs trembling or was it your heart beating so hard it shook your bones?

His stubble grazed your cheek while he whispered the confirmation that his heightened sense of smell was that strong. “Yes. I can.”

The scent was enticing and hit a deep instinct within him. He would never forget it, even just the memory of it shot lust into his being.

It had you flustered. “I’m not… not right now.”

He was boldly suggestive. “You could be.”

That bawdy comment left you speechless, almost did a small stunned laugh escape you but you covered your mouth to muffle it. His cheeks tinted a bit at his own bold comment. Still, you could read the mischief from his eyes and quickly tried to get out of his reach. That ended with with him wrapping you into his arms and pulling your back against his chest. The laugh escaped you, no matter how much he tried to hush you before it would wake half the inn.

“Shhh.” he chuckled, just a hint of hidden embarrassment in his tone again. “The walls are thin here.”

“I’m sorry.” you snorted another, quieter, laugh. “I am guessing that means you are not comfortable enough to bed me here, where others could hear it?”

It made him nervous to even think of copulating where others could possibly hear. That bed looked anything but quiet, it had seen a lot of use in it’s lifetime. He would be nervous enough as it is.

“Not here.” He proposed a solution, “Another way? As we were in Gramaire.”

You turned in his arms to face him. “You want me to help you seek your relief tonight?”

He would not deny himself of it tonight. “Let me learn it all, teach me all the ways.”

“Well then…” your hands grazed down over his chest to his abdomen. “Come here and let me make sure you are not aching anymore.”

That touch of innocence still in him made it irresistible not to make him a ruin by tending to his carnal needs. His breathing instantly quickened when you started to kiss him whilst reaching down for his groin. He was letting it happen, trusting that you knew what you were doing. You had never been this forward while touching him, rubbing him lightly through the fabric of his trousers. He held on tight, leaning into your form as he snaked a hand into the back of your hair. A slow deep kiss was gifted upon your lips and they parted when his tongue asked for access. He let you guide him and taste him, a lesson that was done with the utmost attention. He let out pleasant sounds the longer you caressed his groin.

You smirked against his lips. “It seems like I got your attention.”

He gave you a rougher scolding kiss for that jest, but you broke your lips free from his.

It was better to ask openly so it would not startle him. “Would you like my mouth on you?”

He blinked, confused at what that meant considering your mouth was on him just a second ago before you stole it away again.

A brush of your hand over his groin again. “On you.”

It clicked right away then, he didn’t fully know how to respond.

He had heard of this, of course he had. But he did not know the details of it. Yet, the idea that you were proposing to use your mouth on him had piqued his interest.

His thumb touched your lips. “Your mouth…”

You watched his reaction carefully. “Have you heard of it?”

He gave a slight nod. “The paladins made comments of the sort.”

You gently rubbed him a bit more. “May I?”

The more he was stimulated, the more eager he grew for friction. He put a hand over yours and kept it on his groin, a signal to keep going that he wouldn’t have dared to give earlier.

He wanted this, he needed this. His body was heating up, his hips grew restless, that pleasant pressure was building in his lower self. And then there was the view of you in that chemise that had instantly caused a heat to spread into his abdomen. He needed this. He needed you.

You reassured him, “I want to try that for you. I promise I will be careful.”

He could still hardly believe what was being offered. “You will do such an act for me?”

You couldn’t help but sound a little daring. “Do you think you can handle it?”

He loved that coy smile. Loved the spark of mischief in your eyes. He needed to be confident… he wanted to be confident…

He took on that dare without hesitation. “Kneel down.”

Your eyes had widened at the request. The haze of lust in his own as he looked at you made it so easy to oblige. Still, there was a sudden change in his demeanor that you hadn’t really expected, an increase of confidence you thought would take a while for him to get. You knelt down on the ground and looked up at him, putting a hand on his thigh. An array of things had their presence in his eyes, intrigue and desire, firmness and gentleness. It was the darkened gaze he bestowed on you that made you nervous.

He cupped your cheek, making you look up at him, he touched your bottom lip, pushing the tip of his thumb against your mouth a bit. “Show me?”

You could sense that he was trying to be more confident, he was hiding his self-consciousness under the mask of it.

His thumb slid gingerly into your mouth. You realized he wanted to feel an example of what he could expect, gently you sucked on his digit to give him an idea. It didn’t last long, he withdrew his thumb and graced over your lips with it. He knew you had seen how his trousers were restraining him, like this you were at the perfect height to notice. He looked around himself for a moment, making the decision before your very eyes.

“Do you want me to still your ache?” Your question made his attention snap down to your face again.

He cupped the side of your head, thumb caressing your cheek. “Yes.”

That was all you needed to hear to start working at his trousers. His gaze constantly moved from you, to all that was around him.

Any fear of blundering faded to the back of his mind. All that truly mattered was the woman on her knees, willing to grant him this generous act. He was safe in your hands, he trusted you.

Before you freed him from his restraints, you rubbed him through the fabric of his trousers, warming him up further. He closed his eyes, his forehead creased at the carnal frustration it build up in him. It lasted a while, you loved to see how pent up he got. When softly kneading at him he drew in sharp breaths, his mouth opened just a little.

You slowly freed him, placing one light kiss on the tip, teasing by breathing hotly on him. A length and girth that would surely be interesting to get more acquainted with. Your mouth enclosed around him and he let out a very relieved sound.

“So warm…” The comment fell out of him as he shuddered.

Hot. Wet. All around his aching member that needed little encouragement to be at full hardness. The sensation of it was one thing, but to know that the one he loved was tending to him was what send his mind into a daze. An act of worship he did not believe himself to be worthy of, and still you made him feel like he was.

With a hand on his hip, you began to work on stilling his ache. His fingers scratched softly at your scalp, he let you set the pace and how much you took of him.

You could hear him struggle to take air into his lungs properly and spoke soothing words, “Breathe, Lancelot.”

He took the advice, doing his best to take in deep breaths. You tested and searched for what and how he liked it. He would not last long, you could tell. He was careful, holding control over his hips as they instinctively wanted to move forward into the sensation. The sounds he tried to swallow down, the squeezing of his hand on your shoulder, the changing of his breaths, it all came to an end sooner then he might have wanted it too. A warning was given by him, but you were determined to let him experience it fully, swallowing what you could when he spilled. A low shaking moan ran through his lungs into the air. He was trembling, using your shoulder for support to keep himself standing. The stimulation of your mouth had stopped, you held his hips to ensure he was steady. He stretched his neck, tilting his head back, quietly catching his breath. The walls were thin and he was trying his very best to keep any noise down. While letting him come down from his height of pleasure, you admired him for a moment discreetly and then gently stored him back into his trousers. He was caressing your head, pads of his fingers massaging your scalp in gratitude.

You enjoyed the feeling of it. “Good?”

He could only hum, still overwhelmed by what had rushed through his body. You got off of the ground and began to undo the belts that held his jerkin closed. He was quick to tilt his head down again and look at what you were doing.

“You’re staying here, right?” You saw him nod. “Good. Then let’s get you prepared for bed.”

He could barely keep track of his thoughts. “My weapons.”

Oh, that was right. Taking that jerkin of without taking of the belts first would not be simple. But you had thought that loosening up the jerkin would help him with his breathing.

“Sorry.” You started at the belts. “I thought opening your jerkin would help you breathe better after that.”

A small boyish smile. “It is not the leather that caused it.”

You could hear the approval laced in his voice and evaded his gaze. The belts came off and you hanged them on the foot of the bed. He took off his cloak, handing it to you to place it there as well. By the time you turned around he was behind you and your elbow bumped into him.

He gingerly collected your hands and put them back on the belts of the jerkin. “Now then…”

A quiet giggle escaped you at that. Of course you obliged and worked through the belts, taking of the jerkin. He took the leather from your hands and tossed it onto the bed. Determination set in his eyes, his breathing was calm and deep. He took you by the elbow and gently steered you to sit down on the bed right in front of him.

Your curiosity grew instantly. “What now?”

His gaze had fallen right into the neck of your chemise for a second too long, then he knelt down in front of you. “What that woman said to me. You heard it?”

Your mood threatened to turn at the memory. “I heard.”

“It did make me think of it.” he said.

You hoped you had misheard. “Pardon?”

It took him a second to understand his blunder. “I did not mean-” Panic set into his eyes. “Not with her!”

Your eyes were widened, a sigh of relief fell out. “Gods… my heart.”

He sighed at his ill-choice of words. “Let me explain myself to you.”

His fingers grazed your bare ankles, suspicious because they had been covered by the chemise. He trailed up his hand, curving it around your lower leg, moving it so that the hem of your chemise was riding up.

You gripped the edge of the bed in anticipation. “Lancelot?”

He hinted at what was coursing through his thoughts, “There is only one that I wish to kiss the way that woman alluded to.”

“The only one you would kiss like that…?” you processed.

His question fell out so quick, “Will you let me?”

The fact that he did not ask if that was what you wanted, but instead asked permission, told that he had an unspoken interest for it. His sense of smell was more attuned than yours, had he already picked up on the change in your scent? Was that why he was interested?

“Yes.” you answered.

The chemise was lifted higher, to your thighs. He brushed his bottom lip over your knee, kissing it warmly. He got closer and you instinctively opened your legs to make room for him. It was hard not to feel self-conscious and vulnerable with him between your legs. An intimate and fragile moment that displayed trust. Feeling him touch your bare skin was awakening the ache for him. He moved slowly, mouth never truly lifting from your skin as he tended to it. His fingers teased at your thighs not long before his mouth arrived there. An oddly ticklish sensation ran through you, having him so close and intimate made you want to keep the chemise where it was for coverage. He moved your hand out of the way when it went for the chemise and began to kiss your upper leg, squeezing the back of it in his hand. A whimper fled your lips when his mouth touched your inner thigh, the way he trailed his lips had changed. He kneaded at your soft flesh and slid his hand up to stop just before reaching your rear. Gods, you struggled not to feel self-conscious when he explored you with such vigour. You decided to lay back on the bed, he made you scoot your hips closer to the edge.

A content sigh. “Your mouth is warm.”

His caressed the back of your thigh. “I have yet to correct an imbalance.”

You melted into the feeling of him touching you. “And that means?”

His thumbs dared to push the hem of the chemise further up your thighs. “You have put yourself on your knees and gave me pleasure. I will not rest tonight until I hear my wife moan.” His hand traveled up, under the chemise and right where it needed to be to start that task. “We have more time than we had in Gramaire, dawn is not our enemy. I will take my time with you tonight.”

The scent if your arousal was present and warned him long before he got near it. One day he would catch the scent and grow hard in the most inconvenient time, he just knew it. He saw you tilt your head back on the bed when he grazed his thumb through your wetness, searching and finding the right spot you had taught him to focus on. He couldn’t stop kneading at your thigh, but held back from doing the same with your rear. There was time, time to warm you, time to learn what brought pleasure. The scent of you filled his lungs, he withdrew his hand only for a moment, to take in the scent, to taste your arousal off of his fingers. Was it strange to taste it? Perhaps. But that one taste was enough to know that he wanted to taste it right from the source.

He returned to manually stimulating you whilst his mouth traveled up your thighs. Too engulfed in the sensation, you did not fully realize his intent until his hot breath had replaced his fingers. The first touch of his mouth had you jolt in surprise, and him holding you in place by the hip. He kissed you, using his bottom lip to taste your arousal. The warm breath on you mixed with the lack of friction was torment. He did not know, you could not expected him to just know.

You needed to tell him, to ask for what you wanted. “Lancelot?”

A very content sounding, “Hmm?”

It took courage to say it. “It would feel very good if you used your tongue or fingers while you do that.”

It was as if he had been waiting for permission, he did not hesitate. He was tasting you slowly, tongue moving carefully where your ache was building. He had a hand on your lower abdomen, a signal to stay as you were.

“I should have done this in Gramaire…” he mumbled to himself, quietly groaning in contentment.

“Yes…” you agreed. He moved a little, just right, and you couldn’t prevent the request from spilling out of you. “Kiss me there…”

He had not a single objection.

Finally he could taste it, he could fill his lungs with the scent that made desire tighten his abdomen. He had grazed his nose over it, then did as you had requested of him.

You didn’t think he would be so eager, but he was quick to engage in the task. He gave one tug at your hips to get you even closer. On his knees he served you, letting his hands wander over your most intimate places. You laid down on the sheets, grasping at them to get a hold on something until he reached out and laced a hand with yours.

He did enjoy hearing the set of orders that spilled from your lips. ‘Right there’, ‘stay’, ‘keep going’. He loved how you tried not to clench his head between your thighs at the sensation his actions evoked in you. The sound of his name falling from you now was all the encouragement and reward he needed. And his favorite thing to hear was undoubtedly ‘Please, don’t stop’, a request he happily obliged to. His body was powerless against the stimuli his mind received like this. He was hardening again and just enjoyed the warm pleasurable pressure that build in his groin.

You whimpered when unable to moan too loud. “Please.”

He hushed you. “Shh… let it come to you, Sweetheart.”

Manually he continued to urge you to your release. A few circling motions of his thumb and the tightness in your core was reaching it’s peak. He knew you were close and started to slide his index finger through the wetness, grazing over your entrance in a teasing manner. It was what caused your unraveling to hit. You squirmed, trying to muffle your moans in the sheets while he kept stimulating you until the last shock went through your body.

Your eyed were still pressed shut when you felt the bed dip, he crawled onto the bed and hovered above you. You were still dazed when he lowered himself unto you and began to shower your neck and collarbone with the attention of his lips.

He scolded himself for briefly considering this inn a proper place to consummate his marriage. But he could not help thinking about being between those warm thighs, in those loving arms and sinking himself inside the mess he had just made. A selfish fantasy, a bad place and time. It would not aid his performance in the future if he were heard or caught like this in the midst of the act.

His fierce display of affection prolonged the feeling running through you. And then when he moved against you a little, you became aware that his body had recovered from tending to him earlier, his hardness was against your leg. You moved further back onto the bed to be comfortable and he followed that movement.

“You’re hard again.” you commented softly.

His teeth grazed your jaw gently before he sucked at the skin there. “I cannot help it.”

Again his hand disappeared under your chemise, this time not slow but right to where he intended for it. It felt so natural to continue. You were still sensitive and told him to start slow again, he obliged. You loved the intimate embrace, the slow kissing, the weight of him on you. Your lips were pampering his neck and jaw. It all build up to the second chase for pleasure. After only minutes to recover, he was back to the task of pleasing you. You had snaked your hand into his trousers to palm him, slowly stroking him while he did the same to you. But it was the feeling of his fingers grazing at your entrance that forced a gasp out, you could feel him use your wetness for lubrication on them, and your body reacted with anticipation.

He locked eyes with you. “May I feel you?”

You needed no explanation when he grazed at you again. “Yes.”

He watched your reaction. “Tell me if it hurts.”

Only after you nodded did he proceed. His index finger breached what had been forbidden for him for so long, your back arched. He slid his digit inside with care, inch by inch, feeling you writhe in response to it. The angle of it felt good, and it was an overwhelming feeling to finally feel a part of him so connected with you.

He stroked slowly inside, feeling your arousal coat him to the knuckles. Feeling you writhe restlessly under him. He could see you try to keep your moans to a low volume.

He announced his middle finger, the wetness made it easy to join his digits together into your warmth. You had put your free hand over your mouth to keep yourself from letting everything in the vicinity hear how heated he had made you. When he leaned in closer, you grabbed him firmly and pulled him to your lips. With a demanding kiss you let him know what you desired. The more he noticed your lewd responses, the less he held back. He moved his digits in a steady pace, pumping them at the angle you so craved and in return you pumped him in the same rhythm.

He leaned in, breathing into your ear. “Does that feel good?”

“Hm hm.” You were a mess.

“Good.” He smirked against your ear. “You become so wet for me…”

How could he still make you flustered while doing this? Why was it so titillating to hear how heavy and deep his voice had gotten?

“Gods.” A moan fled your lips, you pressed them shut.

His thumb began to circle against you again, his fingers sinking deeper into you. “Not ‘Gods’,” he tsked with a smirk, “You know my name. Use it.”

You grabbed hold on his shoulder when feeling your peak nearing. “Lancelot- I’m…”

He hushed you and you couldn’t believe how that slight arrogance was making you even more heated.

“Are you imagining it is my cock?” His whisper was right into your ear, followed by the admission. “I am.”

You locked eyes with him, watching him let his gaze travel down your body and back up again. The sound of his fingers sinking themselves inside was making your cheeks burn.

But he enjoyed it all, the sound, the feeling and the mess you became as a result. “Stroke me a little faster, Sweetheart.”

You gave a nod and changed the pace of your hand, his previous release was what now made it easier for him to hold back longer.

He could tell that his words had a positive effect on you. Interesting.

“One day I will have you.” he purred into your ear with confidence. “I promise I will have you.”

It was pushing you right to the edge. “Lancelot…”

He continued to arouse you further, “It will be my cock, and not my fingers, coated in your slickness.”

You were whimpering, clenching around his fingers every few seconds already. “Lancelot, please…”

The calmness in his voice was astounding, as if he was truly trying to get an answer out to learn more about it, “Is this what I need to do for you? Sink myself into you, feel your hold on me…” His fingers sank deep then withdrew, only to insert quicker than expected to the knuckles. “Would you fit around me?”

You could only nod, a desperate noise forced it’s way out.

“Yes?” He thumb circled over you a few times, then he pumped his fingers again. He lowered himself, supporting his weight on his elbow, feeling your chests meet in their desperate efforts for air. The closeness took it to another height. Your knees moved to clench his hips. Unbelievable that he was using this moment to draw out answers and information. Ridiculous how well it worked to bring you close to unraveling, just because you loved to hear how intrigued he was growing towards it. Feeling him move against you with each pump of his fingers worked wonders to imagine it was indeed his cock. He was starting to breathe harder, he was close too.

“Moan for me, Little Ember. Let me hear you.” he spoke into your ear.

It was bringing you the verge of despair, the feeling inside had gotten so strong you couldn’t lay still. Moaning came effortlessly.

He hushed again, “Shh… Let it come.”

He lured the height of pleasure out of you with each stroke of his fingers, gaze gliding of your hazy eyes and over your heaving chest.

“Faster…” his eyes fell shut. “Please…”

You tightened your hold on him, pumping him, feeling him swell and throb.

He brushed his lips to your temple and it was the last thing your body needed for the coil to snap inside. Your release hit hard, a cry forced it’s way out, and the feeling did not dissipate quickly because he chose to kiss the moans of relief right off of your lips to silence them. Your fingers had to be digging into his shoulders, he relished in it. You couldn’t help but clench his hips between your thighs as the feeling coursed through your being. He lowered himself, took over from your hold on him and for the first time in his life he was able to break free of the mental barrier he had when it came to handling himself. He moaned into your shoulder and only needed to stroke himself a few times before spilling unto your thighs. Your name fell as a moan from his lips as he stroked every last drop of him out. All was quiet when he laid his head down against your shoulder while both enjoyed the afterglow. You played with his hair, feeling your eyelids getting heavier. There was always tomorrow to wash up, it was far too comfortable to get out of bed again.

“What did you do to me… gods…” your fingers were entangled in his sleeve.

His answer was a forbidden thought spilling from his mind. “Anything you want…”

Everything was entangled, the sheets, you and him. The moon’s light was on his hair, the mark of the Church had long since been overgrown by it, and you noticed that he must have cut it not long ago with how the ends looked. Had he used a dagger to do so? It was fascinating to start noticing things that could be so easily missed.

“You cut your hair?” you spoke softly.

“I have to. It grows quickly.” his voice was as quiet as yours.

Your heart had calmed down. He moved away just long enough to take of his shirt and simply put it on the end of the bed. He laid down, facing you and hooked an arm around your form to keep you close. His breathing was calm and deep, those hooded eyes had grown weary.

It was a whisper. “Your stubble and mustache never seem to grow.”

He struggled to keep his eyes open. “I prefer to keep it this way. Did they bother you when I…?”

“Not at all.” you smiled.

He was glad to hear it. “Old habit, to have it like this. Father Carden wanted all to be presentable. I was one of the few that was.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how ‘presentable’ he looked now. “I believe that. It’s no wonder those women were staring at you, you’re very handsome and look after your appearance.”

“Women?” he frowned a bit.

Had he truly not noticed it? “The table of women where that woman came from that plopped into your lap.”

A light chuckle fell. “You are still upset with her.”

“To put it lightly.” you mumbled.

“I did not notice them staring.” he stated. “I did notice the table in the corner where three men kept looking over at you. I went to find you outside when I thought one of them had followed you, but he was still in the inn when we walked back inside.”

“At least none of them fell into my lap.”

“No. Someone groped your rear.”

You hummed. “And unfortunately it wasn’t the one who I’d wanted it to be.”

His eyes landed on yours, trying to read them. He saw you grin at him, cocking a daring brow.

You feigned innocence then. “But you are too proper and sweet to do that. Aren’t you?”

Not two seconds later he made you take back that statement when he grabbed a hold on your rear, a firm hold that took you so off-guard that a gasp forced it’s way out of you. Your fingers dug into his shoulder. “Lancelot!”

He couldn’t resist not giving it a small squeeze now that he had the chance. “Let us not question my devotion to proof that thought wrong.”

You cupped his jaw and connected your lips with his, a slow deep kiss all whilst he caressed your behind. You hooked your leg over his, intertwining yourself with him.

He was the one to break the kiss, smiling. “Are you trying to climb into my lap again?”

“You already had someone in your lap today.” you jested.

He shook his head at the jest. “I prefer the Ash Woman in the chemise that has slipped down her shoulder.”

It made you look, the neck of the chemise had indeed slipped down and bared your shoulder. You wanted to adjust it but he hooked the tip of his index finger under it to prevent it. His finger traced your shoulder, over your collarbone and down to your cleavage. He laid his head down on the pillow, tips of his fingers lightly dancing over the spot.

“Are you content?” you quietly asked him and hoped he would know what you were referring to.

His eyes locked on yours, searching them for a moment. “‘Content’?”

You swallowed down your nerves. “With… what we just did.”

There was a slight arch to his brow, a characteristic of him when he was nervous to tread on matters that were still new to him. “Can you not feel the answer still on your thighs?”

You smacked his chest light and playful. “That is the answer of your body, I am asking for the answer of your mind.”

That boyish smile settled on his lips. “I could never imagine a dream that could match this. I am content. Are you?”

Your fingertips traced his lips. “Very. No one ever kissed me the way you did earlier, I would have come undone by your mouth if you hadn’t stopped.”

He was genuinely curious, “Would you like that?”

You were quiet for a moment, taken aback by how forward he could be sometimes, then nervously chuckled. “I am processing the knowledge that a man raised as a monk just propositioned me like that.”

Almost did he tell you to just lay down on your back and allow him to taste you again, more and longer, until you trembled in bliss at the mercy of his lips. He had spend a life serving a God who would cast him out, spending the rest of his days serving his lover was much more rewarding.

His confidence was growing. “Say it… Say it, and I will lift your skirt again to tend to you. I will serve your desire.”

A tempting offer, but it was obvious that he was tired, not a surprise after the exertion. “You overexert yourself too often, my love. You have pleased me enough for tonight, the only thing I wish for is that you take some rest for yourself.”

The sweet words had it’s effect on him still, his intention was clear to be read from his eyes when he wanted to grab hold on your waist. You tsk-ed him, reprimanding him with your eyes for trying. He yielded, abandoning the thought to keep the both of you awake a while longer.

“Rest.” you whispered, laying down comfortably beside him.

He was grateful for it, he didn’t stop tracing your skin with his fingertips until sleep pulled him under. Born from the gods of the Fey, he indeed looked divine as he slept. Softened features, steady breathing, that arm around you. You prayed to the Hidden that they would allow you to have a long life with him, that you would have moments like this to experience again. You nested yourself against him, kissing his temple a few times, then let sleep carry you away.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

You woke early, not long past dawn. He still slept. You washed the remainder of the night from your skin and got dressed. While putting on fresh trousers and a shirt, you noticed something laying under the bed, at the foot of it. Kneeling down, you plucked the small shiny thing up from the floor. A ring, gold and engraved with a swirly pattern. You put it on the table next to the washbasin and continued to put your bodice on. Someone had to be missing the piece of jewelry and you debated on leaving it in the room for them to find or hand it to the innkeeper and hope they knew who it could belong to. Lancelot stirred, groaned at the sunlight that showed no mercy on his eyes when he opened them.

You were just putting on your boots. “There’s still more time to sleep. Don’t mind me.”

His eyes fell on you. “You’re dressed?”

You chuckled. “Well, yes. I’m afraid a chemise will not hold up well against the weather.”

“Come back to bed.” He was certain it was nowhere near noon by where the sun was.

“Maybe after I’ve spoken to the innkeeper.” you grabbed the ring from the table.

He sat upright, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Why do you need to speak with him?”

Your satchel was still on the floor by the bed and you threw it on. “I found a ring on the floor while you were asleep. I’m going to ask if someone might be looking for it.”

His eyes snapped to you, alert now. “A ring?”

You pointed to where you had found it. “It was under the bed. I know we could trade it for something, but I’d be upset too if I lost my bracelet and someone decided to keep it instead of trying to give it back. I’m sure the rightful owner will come back to the inn for it.”

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, feet on the ground. “Show me what you have found?”

You obliged and put the ring in his hand, letting him take a look, then noticed how pale he had suddenly gotten. “Are you alright? You don’t look well. Maybe you should rest a bit longer.”

He seemed distracted. “What were you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to hand it over to the innkeeper. Someone might return for it.” you said.

He shook his head. “No.”

It made you frown. “We have coin now. And this ring could be important to someone.”

You took it back and stubbornly headed for the door with it.

He was up on his feet in an instant and caught your lower arm, blurting out, “It is yours.”

That wasn’t true. “No, it’s not.”

He gave you quite a look. “Yes. It is.”

Your voice got ridiculously quiet. “What do you… why do you say it’s mine?”

“Have you forgotten your lesson already?” He plucked the ring from your fingers and made you look inside the band.

Carefully you took the ring from him between your fingers and noticed the engraving on the inside too. It was the first thing he had taught you to read in the language of the Fey, ‘Little Ember’. It was strange to fear wrongly assuming that he got you this ring, you needed him to explain, to tell you that this was indeed what you thought it was. Instead he was silent, you couldn’t really read his eyes now, he was back in the hurricane of his restless thoughts.

It must have fallen out from behind the sheath of his short sword last night. He had been distracted, too eager to be unburdened by the weapon belt. Your response to the ring was not what he had expected. It should have been given by him, not found on the floor of an inn. This was not how he had wanted it to happen, and you weren’t smiling…

“You do not like it…” It was a statement.

It had rendered you speechless.

He composed himself, accepting the situation and thinking of solutions, “We can trade it, or sell it for one you will love.”

You held up the ring a little, struggling to form a sentence. “Why…? Why did you….?”

He quietly explained it upon seeing the confusion in your eyes, “The chance to experience our wedding was stolen from us, I wished to at least do one matter correct. When I went to Ravenwick at night, I searched for a merchant who sold jewels. A gold coin open’s every merchant’s door even in the night. I saw this ring, asked to have it engraved.”

The engraving cost him more. He was fortunate the merchant made not a problem of having a patron who was Fey as long as payment was good.

You swallowed hard. “It’s a wedding ring… you got me a ring…”

He saw a mixture of emotions come down over your features. “I chose it because I believe it has the same sort of gem that sits in your bracelet.”

With shaking hands, you inspected the ring again, having failed to notice the small round gem set in the band. This time you paid more attention to it’s fine delicate details, to the thoughtful engraving and stone that matched your bracelet. It wasn’t until he touched your arm that you realized tears were staining your cheeks. You wanted to tell him it was alright, that you were just feeling a little overwhelmed, but instead a sob came out. He apologized. He apologized. You had grabbed him and pulled him into your arms not a second later.

He didn’t know what to make of it. Not until you cupped his face faster than you had ever done and kissed him so fierce that the air was out of his lungs that very moment. You did not stop, did not hold back, and he relished in that feeling.

You heard him make a sound and worried that your strong hold on him was hurting him. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He grabbed you by the back of your neck and brought you back to his lips.

He steered you by the hips to the wall just beside the door, kissing you with the same vigour, stopping only because people were walking past the door outside.

“Do you still wish to be rid of the ring?” He could guess the answer.

You were firm on that. “Over my dead body.”

“See if it fits?” He plucked the ring from your hand and took your hand in his. “I had to guess. We could go and have it altered in the city when visiting the market.” He slid the ring on your finger. “How is it?”

“It fits.” you said.

He tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing. “Does it fit well?”

You had to admit the truth, “It’s a little tight.”

To him it was not a hard problem to solve. “We will have it altered. Store it in your satchel, don’t let it hurt your finger.”

It was a wise idea, you put it in the satchel to keep it safe. “You should get ready for the day too, we can’t stay in this room forever.”

“We have until noon.” He smirked, getting closer and cupping the side of your neck. Obviously he had something on his mind to spend the remaining time on.

Chuckling fell from your lips. “Gods, Lancelot!” You stepped away from him. “Wash up. Get dressed. Try to be done by noon.”

There was a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Since when do you command me?”

You fired your risque jest, “Since I know that you take commands well in a bedroom.”

He scoffed, but it turned into a chuckle. Even after last night a pink flush spread near his nose.

It fell from your thoughts, “Gods, I love that.”

He eyed you inquisitively. “Hm?”

You got closer, cupping his cheek, and touched your thumb where his skin had flushed a bit. “When you blush, I love to see it. It’s endearing.”

He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek to try and stop the embarrassed smile. Pointing it out only seemed to make him blush more.

You brushed your lips to the marking that ran across his cheek. “I love you.”

His eyes snapped to yours again, blinking two times rapidly. He slowly took hold of your wrist and pressed his lips to the inside of it, closing his eyes whilst he did. “And I you.”

More people were waking up, you could hear them pass by the room. He let go of your wrist, went to the washbasin and took off his shirt.

You went to the wardrobe to take out fresh linen for him to use. Picking out a large linen cloth to dry himself. “There’s linen in here to wash and dry with.”

You lost all knowledge of language when turning around and seeing that he was undoing the cords of his trousers. A hot flush came up into your face and you swiftly turned around.

He did not even notice your reaction at first, it was the sudden silence that alerted him. The reaction had seemingly amused him. “Are you concerned to see me wash a part of me?”

You did not turn around and ignored how he was clearly going to tease you about this. You heard him wring out the water from the rag.

He took it a step further. “Did you not acquaint yourself well with it last night?”

That smug… “It’s different.”

His wit was strong that morning. “That is because it is at rest now.”

Almost did you throw him a look for that. It was such a bawdy thing to say that it did manage to make you laugh. “You know that is not what I meant!”

“I know.” He finished washing his lower self. “Why do you find it different to see me like this now?” There was no judgment in his tone, just genuine curiosity to understand.

“I did not expect to see you like that now.” A quiet sigh. “My previous experience with matters like this does not make me immune to feeling shy or flustered. I often feel more self-conscious and shy now because I am with someone I love and it’s different. Now my head spins just seeing you clothed, try to imagine what it feels like for me to see you unclothed.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you feared you had said something wrong. Had you made a fool of yourself?

Finally he spoke, “I am trying to imagine how I would react if I would see you without your trousers on unexpectedly after having acquainted myself with you last night.”

“Don’t imagine too hard.” you quipped.

Half a laugh escaped him before he muffled it into his fist. “You can turn around. I am almost done.”

You threw a careful glance over your shoulder, his trousers sat securely on his hips again. “How are your wounds? Do you want me to put some of that salve on them?”

He dried his face with the linen cloth you handed him. “They do not hurt anymore. But I will not decline that offer.”

You took the salve out from the package in your satchel that the healers had given and began to apply it onto the wounds that still looked too red to your liking. In the meantime he borrowed the comb from your satchel to tend to his hair, plucking your straying fingers out of his locks a few times when you couldn’t resist raking them through his hair.

Someone knocked on the door, Lancelot waited to respond and heard Gawain announce his presence.

“Good morning, Gawain.” You opened the door for the knight who entered the room but he came to a sudden stop at the sight of Lancelot.

“Green knight.” Lancelot greeted him.

Both of you knew that the knight had just seen Lancelot’s scars for the first time. Shock was present in Gawain’s eyes before he composed himself.

The knight came to inform him on some matters. “We are heading into the city around noon. Purchase wares we need and food. Percival is awake and eating breakfast down with the others who are awake.”

Lancelot noticed that Gawain was trying not to stare at his scars. “You can ask.”

Gawain frowned, then understood what the Ash Man meant. “Flagellation?”

A nod. “Yes. Scourge.”

“You have stopped?” The knight sounded hopeful.

Even Lancelot was glad that he could answer, “I have.”

Gawain looked around the room until he saw the sword still hanging over the foot of the bed. “You treat the sword of our people like a rusted blade.”

He put his shirt on. “Am I to worship it on my knees all day?”

Gawain gave him a look. “Do not lose the sword, Brother. We are counting on you.”

“I will not fail you, Gawain.” He stepped towards him. “But I will not be at the mercy of any gods again, even if I share their blood.”

“There is another matter,” the knight said, “Percival needs a better jacket and cloak. Those tears in them will not shield him from the rain long.”

You took responsibility for solving that issue. “I’ll find him something at the market.”

“Thank you.” Gawain nodded gratefully. “The weather is colder today and the sky betrays rain. Prepare to sleep in the forest tonight unless we make haste and travel ahead to this fort Merlin is leading us to.”

“What comes after? When we do find this place to be suited as a sanctuary for the Fey, you believe they will trust my presence there?” Lancelot doubted it. “Who is to say that they will not avenge their loved ones that perished at my hands?”

Gawain took no offense to his worries. “Will you let that fear alter your wish to help your people?”

“I will not.” His voice got quieter, “but when it comes to that-”

The knight stopped him there. “Do you believe I will not stand by your side when you would be threatened? I swore to protect the Fey, all Fey. And I have yet to be proven wrong for putting my trust in you. Stand by us, and we will stand by you.” He took a breath. “Not even Arthur and Red Spear have forgotten that you slayed Trinity Guards that would have killed them otherwise. Your efforts are being noticed, Lancelot.” The knight turned and headed for the door. “Get dressed and head to the horses if you prefer to visit the market with us before the rain. I will arrange for something you can eat whilst riding.”

Lancelot nodded in agreement. “Thank you.”

After Gawain left the room, Lancelot was quick to get dressed for the day while you packed up your clothes again.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream

@coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff @the-fangirl-diaries @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927 @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies @stclairesplace @katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot @sahvlren @lancedoncrimsonwings @weird123abc @elizabeth-holland24 @kissingandromeda @timeshiptraveler

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

#lancelot x reader #the weeping monk #cursed #weeping monk x you #weeping monk x reader #cursed netflix #weeping monk #cursed lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot

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ourflagmeansgayrights · 8 months ago

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man i saw this and i was gonna write a whole post abt how maybe the problem for these ppl isn’t that ed wasn’t punished enough (even tho that’s what they say) maybe it’s that it’s a poorly-executed redemption arc but they don’t know how to verbalize that.

and that would actually make sense bc ed doesn’t have a redemption arc in s2. bc the show does not think ed needs redeeming. even at his worst and most harmful to the people around him the show is deeply sympathetic towards him and gives us sooooo much screentime dedicated to showing us that everything ed does he only does bc he’s hurting. which doesn’t excuse any of what he does but it does shift the narrative framing away from an actual redemption arc, where a character needs to like, learn why the things they did were bad and try to make amends. but ed never needed to learn anything, he knew his actions were unacceptable and that’s why he did them. he was trying to be the most horrific monster he could be in hopes that someone would get sick of him and kill him.

so then i went looking for an old post i wrote abt redemption arcs to talk abt why ed’s s2 arc probably reads like a poorly-written redemption arc for ppl who are expecting an actual redemption arc and. i change my mind actually. because “is this character willing to accept that their behavior is harmful, to make amends for their past behavior if at all possible, and to try and become a better person?” yeah we see ed do all of that tho.

Accept Their Behavior Is Harmful: i mean aside from the fact that ed knew this the whole time, we also see ed talking to fang about how guilty he feels for how he treated the crew. but like this isn’t zuko slowly unlearning an entire lifetime of fire nation propaganda, ed doesn’t need a season(s)-long arc abt this. He Already Knows

Make Amends For Their Past Behavior: like literally the whole thing with getting pushed off the ship!! wearing a sack and a collar at the crew’s behest!! he’s very much trying to make amends!!!!!

Try To Become A Better Person: there’s a lot i could talk abt here but just on a surface level, he’s trying to quit his job where he attacks and steals from random innocent ppl for a living. like objectively that job does not make you a good person. and also that job makes him miserable and when his mental health is in the shitter sometimes he hurts other ppl in his efforts to hurt himself so like!!! he is very much trying to not be the kind of person who forces crew members to fight to the death anymore!!!!

so yeah, thinking this was abt a “poorly-written redemption arc” was giving these ppl too much benefit of the doubt lol they just want to see ed grovel and suffer for an entire season, which was never going to happen lmao. the show thought izzy had more to apologize for than ed and that’s why ed’s apology was one sentence and izzy’s apology was a whole speech on his deathbed. the show thought izzy needed more punishment for his actions than ed did and that’s we see izzy get put through the physical ringer in the beginning of s2 and ed getting beat to death by the crew happens off-screen. ppl can argue all they want abt how ed did so much worse than izzy but at the end of the day the show disagrees with those takes and that’s why it treats these characters the way it does. die mad about it.

#txt #meta #ofmd meta #edward teach #ed teach #edward teach born on a beach #izzy hands #izzy critical #link #s2e01 #s2e02 #s2e05 #s2e06 #s2e08 #if this post is in the izcourse tag no it isnt u just dont know how to use tumblr

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giveamadeuschohisownmovie · 1 year ago

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Just to emphasize how much of a left turn “Saw X” is for the franchise, you need to consider what “Saw” is to most people. Aside from the first movie which has been mostly re-evaluated as a decent thriller that was more focused on story than gore, the series has been criticized for being an excuse to show off people being mutilated in the worst ways possible. The series has been credited as a “pioneer” in the torture porn label, which you can’t really argue due to it being mostly true for the sequels. The series has also never been a critical darling (all the movies before X have all had negative Rotten Tomatoes scores), which I think contributed to the series’ image as low-grade torture porn.

As the story got more convoluted and frustrating, the more the series seemed to focus on killing people. For me, I started noticing this when the 4th movie featured a trap that didn’t really have a purpose in the story (the mausoleum trap with Art Blank). That trap felt more like the makers wanted to do a really brutal scene and didn’t care if it made sense.

Main characters would only last one movie. It was pretty much useless getting attached to any protagonist since they usually got axed off by the end of the movie. Because protagonists kept getting killed off, further sequels tended to focus on characters who played more minor roles. Rigg is probably the best example of this since I’m pretty sure no one was expecting this character to be a protagonist. Point I’m making here is that character development was essentially useless since protagonists were just glorified cannon fodder.

Then there’s the unfortunate existence of “Saw 3D”, which made the series look like it was just trend-chasing.

The series died for a few years. It then tried to come back with “Jigsaw” and “Spiral”, which the makers claimed to be a reinvention of the series that would renew interest in the franchise. Instead, they were both just sorta lackluster and didn’t really convince people that Saw was worth revisiting.

So, “Saw X” clearly had an uphill battle. But lo and behold, the movie gets released and ends up being:

1) A surprisingly good character piece centered around Jigsaw and Amanda. Yes, there are still death traps and gore, but the focus on story and character development is definitely felt more in this installment.

2) The only “Saw” movie with a positive Rotten Tomatoes score. In general, seeing positive critical reception about a “Saw” movie is crazy to me.

3) An actual, successful reinvention of the franchise since it’s centered around Jigsaw instead of having him be the mastermind in the background. Just by being a straightforward thriller instead of a convoluted horror-mystery is enough to distinguish this from the other 9 movies.

Kudos to “Saw”. This is why in one of my posts last night, I called it one of the greatest redemption arcs I’ve seen in horror. It’s the TENTH installment in a series that’s been critically savaged its entire lifetime, it shouldn’t have succeeded. But here we are.

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oneknightlight · 1 month ago

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I like reverse redemption arcs. Hey what if we made a slow decent into evil after a lifetime of being good

#Walt talks

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purpleheartskies · 8 months ago

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Johnny's redemption story (so far)

Since s1, the series has been pitched as Johnny's redemption story. However, by the end of s5, Johnny's story doesn't narratively include a "redemption" in any meaningful way. Although many fans claim that Johnny redeemed himself in earlier seasons (s1 in particular), I think the "redemption arc" part of Johnny's redemption story hasn't even started yet. After all, in most redemption stories, there is a lot of story/setup before a character even starts to be redeemed. I'm going to talk about Johnny's redemption. Then, I'm going to judge his story based on "five common problems with redemption arcs" to see if Johnny's story suffers from any of these problems.

Johnny needs redemption for his wrongs towards Robby, yet Johnny has done absolutely nothing of substance throughout the series to make up for his lifetime of failures with Robby.

In an interview after filming s5 but before s4's release, Billy said this about Johnny:

Johnny isn’t "consciously trying to find redemption as much as he’s trying to find himself without the Cobra Kai blanket on him... He’s trying to rewind time and go back to the belly of where this all started and undo all these knots. He just wants his kid back, he wants love, and he wants to run a dojo without any interference — [to] live a nice, simple life. But he’s got a long way to go there."

Billy's first and last sentence indicate that Johnny needs redemption but is nowhere near achieving it. Johnny wanting a nice simple life without actually working for it sounds pretty par for the course for Johnny. Johnny wants it easy. He wants to just move on without actually working for a redemption and making amends. He just wants rewards without having to earn them. In s3e10, Johnny set out to get an easy reward after his conversation with Ali:

Ali: "Sometimes it's good to visit the past to know where you are now. But you can't live in the past." Johnny: "No." Ali: "We have to live for today. And the future."

Johnny wanted to pursue more with Ali, although he had slept with Carmen the night before, but Ali shut that down. After this conversation, Johnny went to proclaim his "love" to Carmen while not caring at all where Robby was, that he was homeless, alone, and may even possibly be dead. Later, after Johnny's confrontations with his "past"---Kreese and Robby---, Johnny decided to leave them behind for good and move onto his "today" and "future"---Carmen and Miguel. In s4, he focused on his "do over" family, while not caring at all about Robby. Johnny "loves" Carmen because she enables him and completely overlooks his worst traits. Camen "loves" Johnny because he runs after her son while abandoning his own. This is definitely an unhealthy romantic relationship for Johnny to be in.

In general, instead of building healthy relationships with people who encourage him to be the best version of himself, Johnny has built codependent relationships with people, Miguel and Carmen, who encourage Johnny to only be the best version of himself that primarily benefits them. This of course adds to Johnny's failures with Robby, as Johnny prioritizes these people over Robby. Of course, Johnny doing this is an intentional choice on his part, and he is the one who is accountable to Robby for it.

Johnny's continued dysfunctional behavior with Robby is one of a few things that makes Johnny's story so far so unfulfilling, as this is supposed to be his "redemption" story. Instead, throughout the series, Johnny has been using Miguel and, since s5, the baby as well to feel better about himself. He does this to Robby's detriment, mistreating and traumatizing Robby even more. Starting out the series, Johnny's greatest, unforgivable sin is abandoning Robby his whole life. By the end of s5, Johnny has objectively dug that hole much, much deeper.... to the point that Johnny has crossed the "moral event horizon" (is beyond redemption) for some of us fans (specifically those of us who don't cheer on Johnny's behavior towards Robby, Johnny choosing the Diazs over Robby, the dysfunctional toxic blended family, and how it all came together at Robby's expense).

In the writers' interview with Koves, Josh Heald said this:

"Everything boils down to the type of karate that you learned. But it doesn't go to the actual punches and kicks. It's the type of teacher you have, the type of father or mother or sensei. However you define that. [Jon: And the lesson is behind it.] And what they're telling you to do and how they're telling you to help live your life and why. Are they in it for their own redemption or are they really in it for you? What have they been through that you don't know about? Like, you know, it goes back to that big why why why."

This is a really pointed statement. Given the storylines in the show, it's no question who Josh was talking about: Johnny and his relationship with Miguel. Josh is admitting that Johnny's intention in his relationship with Miguel is using Miguel as a "do over" for his own redemption. Of course, this was established in s1e4 as Johnny's purpose of choosing Miguel over Robby throughout the series. This interview with the Koves took place between the s4 and s5 releases, after s5 had already been filmed.

In a later interview after s5 came out, Josh said about Johnny and the baby plot device:

"He had one chance of being a biological father and kind of blew it for most of that kid's childhood. He had a second chance at being this kind of surrogate dad that is a work in progress, but is generally going kind of good. We wanted to kind of give him one more chance."

So, if Miguel is meant to be the "redemption" for Johnny, like many fans believe Miguel is, why did the writers give Johnny the baby as "one more chance"? Sounds like Johnny failed at his "second chance". In s5, nothing about Johnny's relationship with Miguel was detached from Johnny's relationship with Robby. Even Johnny's advice to Miguel in s5e3 about promising to do better tied into Johnny's scene later with Carmen. Johnny essentially promised Carmen that he won't fail her and the baby like he had failed Shannon and Robby. Going to rescue Miguel while not endangering Carmen in s5e1/2 involved mistreating and endangering Robby to do so. I've always said that the Johnny and Miguel hug at the end of s5e2 was more for the sake of Robby seeing it than for either Johnny or Miguel. Then, the s5e3 advice scene had its links to Johnny's failures with Robby. In fact, all of Johnny's s5e3 scenes were essentially about or referred to his failures with Robby. At breakfast, Carmen asked Johnny how things were with Robby. Then, in their next scene, she admit that she's late. After that, every conversation between them about the baby became about Johnny's insecurities because of his failures with Robby. S5e5 still was Johnny putting himself, Miguel, Carmen, and the baby over Robby. (In s5e6, it's implied that Johnny put Daniel over Robby.) S5e8 included the "fatherly advice" comment scene in which Johnny gave fatherly advice to Miguel and then got annoyed with Robby for essentially calling him out for not giving fatherly advice to Robby. Later, Robby was relegated to a side seat while Miguel sat across from Johnny during his talk with the boys in which Johnny didn't really address the impact that Hawk injuring Robby had on him and didn't address that Miguel had used the injury against Robby in this match in the s1 tournament. Johnny completely acted like Miguel hadn't cheated to win that championship. Johnny continues to pretend like Robby's traumas don't exist and wants Robby to do the same. The only thing to note positively is that Johnny looked at Robby's gi and told the judge to call the joint dojo Miyagi-Do. In s5e9, Johnny brought up Robby in the ultrasound scene. In fact, Vanessa Rubio said in an interview that Carmen originally had no lines in that scene, and that Vanessa insisted that Carmen needs lines in that scene. This means that the ultrasound scene was literally written for Johnny to muse about his failures with Robby. Later, while celebrating at a club, Chozen and Johnny have a conversation about their past mistakes. In s5e10, during the final brawl, there were the scene transitions between Johnny and Robby that sandwiched the line by Silver that Johnny's just going to screw up another kid. So even Silver finding out about the baby in s5e9 led to him commenting to Johnny in s5e10 about Johnny's failures with Robby. Again, essentially all of the baby plotline and Johnny's scenes with Miguel or Carmen in s5 acknowledged Johnny's failures with Robby---which is Johnny's reason for needing redemption and his reason for running after Miguel, Carmen, and the baby plot device to feel better about himself.

Johnny's entire arc in s5 was essentially rooted in and driven by his failed relationship with Robby, like his whole story has been since s1e4. The story, mostly through Johnny himself, kept reminding the audience that Johnny is not redeemed yet and that he needs redemption for failing with Robby. This is dramatic irony. Johnny believes he's already arrived: "If I can change, and you can change, everybody can change." But, we the audience have all the context we need to know that Johnny has a long way to go for redemption, like Billy said. However, the majority of the audience chooses to support Johnny prioritizing the Diazs over Robby, no matter how Johnny treats Robby, and wants Johnny's relationships with the Diazs to be the source of Johnny's redemption for failing with Robby. Even before s5 and the baby plot device, many fans didn't want Johnny prioritizing Robby over Miguel and Carmen in order to redeem himself to Robby.

In an interview with Cobra Kai Kid after filming CK s5, but before its release, Hayden said that they [he, Jon, and Josh] cared more about Johnny's redemption than about Kreese's redemption. WatchParty did a video about Hayden's comment. In his video, WatchParty tried to figure out what else Johnny could need redemption for, claiming that Johnny had been redeemed in s1 because Miguel had won the tournament. Though, this makes no sense because that win came at Robby's expense and Johnny himself was not happy with that win, at the time (before the school fight and Johnny eventually walking away from Robby for good at the end of the s3). WatchParty's second guess was Johnny needing to redeem himself to Robby. This is just one of many examples of the fact that many fans believe that Johnny is already redeemed because of his relationship with Miguel. Many also seem to believe that Johnny redeeming himself to Robby for abandoning Robby since his birth is either unnecessary/unimportant and/or Johnny's redemption for abandoning Robby should be about Johnny making it up to himself by focusing on his "do over" family instead of making it up to Robby. In turn, the story itself throughout all 5 seasons indicates, through Johnny himself most times, that Johnny still needs redemption for failing with Robby.

The interesting thing about the writers' comments that I've quoted above is how they write Johnny. They don't grow Johnny at all when it comes to Robby or Johnny's other character flaws. The trope usually is that the new people in the character's life sparks a change in the character that brings about his positive growth and eventual redemption. So, why would the writers have Johnny choose Miguel and later the baby over Robby since s1? Why would the writers give Johnny the baby if Johnny's relationship with Miguel were redemptive for Johnny? Why would the writers still be concerned about Johnny's redemption but not grow him at all in s5? Neither Miguel, Carmen, nor the baby plot device have resulted in any long-term positive growth for Johnny. In another interview, they said that Kreese was offered redemption in s5, and he didn't take it in the end. They haven't made a statement like that about Johnny choosing or not choosing redemption. Instead, Billy said that Johnny has a long way to go there. The writers also needed one and a half more seasons (an extra long final season) to tell whatever story they have left to tell, which is likely the redemption they have planned for Johnny. In s5, they kept Johnny unredeemed with no positive growth. He continued to neglect and abuse Robby. He continued to be an alcoholic with no real effort to stop. He continued to be a deadbeat, who is more indulgent in a karate war and committing crimes as part of it whenever he feels like it, instead of actually taking seriously that he has people depending on him. He didn't take that responsibility seriously before when only Shannon and Robby were dependent on him, and he doesn't take it seriously now when he will also have Carmen, Miguel, and the baby plot device depending on him. Shannon telling him that it's okay that they failed with Robby because she and Johnny were "young and dumb" doesn't change the fact that he failed then and is still failing now.

In s5e9, we're shown a very blatant contrast between Johnny's approach to redemption and Chozen's approach to it.

Johnny: "My whole life was haunted by one stupid kick. I thought if I could go back in time, do things different, dodge it, block it, my life would be fixed. The kick wasn't the problem. I had to stop focusing on what was behind. Start looking at what was in front of me." [indicates to Carmen] Chozen: "We are same. Both make mistakes. Both feel guilt for pain we caused. Now, you have, uh, friends. Family. Children. I always wanted same thing."

Chozen then mentions Kumiko to Johnny after he asks if there's someone back home that Chozen is interested in. Johnny mentions this to Daniel, so Daniel goes to Chozen.

Chozen: "When, uh, Kumiko and I were children, we would play in the ruins of King Shō Hashi Castle. I would hide, and she would always find me. After my disgrace in village... I tried to hide from everything. But Kumiko find me again. And her kindness brought me back." Daniel: "She's something special, all right." Chozen: "Hai." Daniel: "Does she know how you feel?" Chozen: "No. No! No. How I treated her, what I did to her... Unforgivable." Daniel: "You can't keep punishing yourself. You've done all you can to make up for what you did back then, and Kumiko knows that. Look, she's the reason you're here. She went after you. Maybe now it's your turn to go after her." Chozen: "Thank you, Daniel-san. You're welcome, my friend."

The contrast in these two outlooks and approaches is so important. Johnny simply walked away from his past, including his wrongs, and decided to move on. Hell, he even left Robby with Kreese, Johnny's own abuser and the real root of Johnny's trauma from the night of the stupid kick. Johnny has felt guilt for his mistakes, like Chozen said, but Johnny has never made up for them. Chozen's dialogue with Johnny distinctly left out making up for past mistakes, while Daniel's dialogue with Chozen included it. Chozen focused on Kumiko when he spoke about the past and how his actions had affected her. He said what he did was unforgivable. But Daniel told Chozen that he had done all he could to make up for what he did back then, and that Kumiko knows this. Now, whether you're okay with Chozen and Kumiko becoming a couple is another issue, but the point here is that Chozen has been making amends for over 30 years. Chozen has also sincerely expressed his remorse to Daniel for what he did to him in the past, while Johnny hasn't expressed his.

Making amends is something Johnny has yet to do. Johnny always speaks about his wrongs towards Robby as if it's too late and as if he can't fix it. He simply doesn't even really try to. When he gets even a little bit of rightful anger from Robby, he bolts. He runs from working for a real redemption. After all, redemption for Johnny wouldn't just be confronting his wrongs towards Robby but also confronting what happened with Kreese the night of the stupid kick and confronting the parts of himself that he loathes. Johnny is afraid to do so. Johnny told Robby while they were in Mexico:

"I'm out here trying to fix my mistakes so that I don't have to live with the regret of making them."

Johnny's guilt is all about himself, and he just wants to feel better about himself. Johnny doesn't consider how Robby feels or how his failures have affected Robby and keep affecting him. Johnny moving on is all about himself. In the end, after he committed a crime and almost got himself killed for no reason, Carmen told him that she thought she'd lost him. He responded:

"You can't get rid of me that easy. The thought of losing you and Miguel, Robby, our family, kicked me into a gear I didn't know I had. Couldn't stand the thought of missing the rest of our life together.

It's all about Johnny and what he would lose. He didn't care about how his loved one would be impacted by losing him.

Johnny's redemption with Robby is at the core of Johnny's character story. But, wrt the plot in general, Johnny also has to redeem himself for bringing Cobra Kai back. He let Pandora out of her box, and he himself hasn't actually done anything of meaning to put her back inside. In s2, Johnny had been trying to change Cobra Kai because his students had chosen to show no mercy to Robby in the s1 avt. Kreese however came crawling back and manipulated Johnny to let him back in. Kreese didn't like that Johnny was changing Cobra Kai and usurped the dojo from Johnny, using the events of the school fight against him. Johnny then, in true Johnny fashion, chose to walk away from Cobra Kai and Kreese. Johnny acted like none of this was his problem anymore. Johnny only got involved again in the dojo war at the end of s3 because the Cobras attacked Miguel. Johnny didn't care otherwise. Well, earlier in s3, Johnny did care that Kreese might try to come near Miguel and so threatened Kreese away from him while leaving Robby wide open for the taking, but Johnny did nothing otherwise to stop Kreese or Cobra Kai. Johnny only teamed up with Daniel to take down Kreese after he and the Cobras became a threat to Miguel. In s4, Johnny was more focused on keeping Miguel than on maintaining the alliance with Daniel or on getting Robby away from Kreese. Johnny trained Sam after she came to learn from him, but Johnny didn't do a good job of training all of his dojo students and pretty much focused on Miguel and Devon only. Johnny didn't try to make amends with Daniel first at the avt and still got upset with Daniel for talking to Miguel. Eventually, after Daniel apologized first, Johnny also apologized and then helped coach Sam during her match. However, in s5, after the loss at the s4 avt, Johnny once again washed his hands of the dojo war. He acted like Cobra Kai being back was no longer his fault. He only took part in helping take down Cobra Kai once again when he was prompted to, this time because Daniel had come to him for help and then Silver beat Daniel. Overall, just like Johnny doesn't actually make the active effort of making amends to Robby, Johnny also doesn't try to actively do more to stop Cobra Kai from spreading. Johnny drops the responsibility of making up for the problems he causes. Bringing back Cobra Kai is something Johnny has to make up for. In a way, Johnny made a vow to do that in s5: "You wanna know why I'm in this fight? So I can erase everything you did. And every mark you left. Every memory of you." Let's see how Johnny actually does in s6. Meaning, let's see how much active effort he puts into taking down Cobra Kai versus how much he lets Daniel and others try to fix his mistakes for him again.

I wrote this post because I came across an article about five common problems in redemption arcs and I wanted to judge Johnny's story so far in light of these problems.

Problem 1: The motive for redemption is weak - Johnny's motive for redemption is strong, so this problem isn't present in his story. After all, he himself can't stop talking about how he has failed Robby. Throughout the series, he has failed Robby even more. Also, Johnny is the one who brought back Cobra Kai and he needs redemption for this as well.

Problem 2: The character is entitled to forgiveness - This one is tricky. Johnny acts like he is entitled to forgiveness. Many of his fans also believe that he is because he gives speeches about how failing Robby makes him feel guilty and feel sorry for himself. However, whenever Robby doesn't give Johnny forgiveness instantly, Johnny gives up on him. In s4e10, Robby told Johnny that he is sick of blaming Johnny. Johnny smiled in a relieved way. (I guess, good job, Johnny, for giving your son so much trauma that he's now too tired to keep hating you. /s) In s5, Johnny didn't tolerate Robby talking about Johnny's wrongs against him. Johnny has no genuine humility towards Robby.

I don't think the narrative has been making the case that Johnny is entitled to forgiveness. The entitlement comes more from Johnny himself. We're shown contrasts to Johnny's behavior, like with Chozen's real redemption and with Robby trying to be better than Johnny and not end up like him. We're also shown the parallel of Silver and Kreese acting entitled to forgiveness/trust while not deserving it. Johnny said about Kreese in s2e9, "I thought he could change. Turns out I was wrong, so I pushed him away." Johnny doesn't realize what a hypocrite he himself is when it comes to Robby pushing him away.

Every season, including s5, Robby has called out at least one thing about Johnny's behavior with him or how it affects him (Robby's trauma narrative). However, after the apartment fight and baby news, Robby stopped speaking out about it. In s5e7, Robby burying the egg during the egg lesson is a metaphor for how Robby is burying his true feelings about Johnny and everything. Robby brushed off his own fatherly advice comment in the next episode. This isn't a coincidence and is another example of Robby having to hide how he feels so that Johnny doesn't abandon him and to make Johnny feel better about himself. Johnny immediately becomes defensive when Robby justifiably calls him out, and Johnny does things like abandoning and not visiting Robby in juvie for months or abandoning him at a random bus stop in a foreign country after lying to him to get him to go on the trip.

Johnny said that he's out there trying to fix his mistakes so that he doesn't have to live with regret of making them. lol Johnny himself doesn't make a good case for being entitled to forgiveness.

Problem 3: Something unrelated is addressed - So, this is where I think fan perception is playing a huge role. The "unrelated" thing that fans perceive as being the source of Johnny's redemption is Johnny relationships with the Diazs and prioritizing them over Robby. However, as I've described above, Johnny himself keeps mentioning his failures with Robby. Although Johnny consciously tries to use Miguel and the baby as "do overs" and uses the Diazs to move on from his failures, Johnny subconsciously can't get over those failures. That is, he himself doesn't believe that using "something unrelated" as his redemption is redemptive.

I believe Problem 3 exists for Johnny's story because of fan perception and not because of the story itself. The moment any fan starts pointing out the nuance in the story that proves that Johnny's, Miguel's, Carmen's, and Robby's behaviors and the blended family are dysfunctional, fans who want the "something unrelated" (Diazs) to be Johnny's redemption brush off the nuance and claim that there is no more nuance in the show, "it's not that deep". All these people wouldn't for a second forgive, trust, or be happy with Johnny if they themselves were Robby. I bet if someone did a poll asking "Who would you want to be in the blended family: Miguel or Robby?", all these people would say Miguel ... because no one, absolutely no one, would want to be Robby in this toxic family. Many act like Robby should be understanding towards Johnny as he mistreats Robby to prioritize Miguel and his family... because yeah, if someone wrongs you, they should run after random people at your expense to make up for it 💀 (/s).

Problem 4: The character is unforgivable - I personally think Johnny is irredeemable. I often find myself asking "Can I throw Johnny away now?" as I'm writing a post or comment about how Johnny treats Robby. However, from a narrative standpoint and based on interviews, I know that the writers are going for a redemption for Johnny. I just won't believe it myself, even if in s6 they do some or all of the subversions that they have been setting up in the story these past 5 seasons. I'm just so done with Johnny. I draw a hardline when it comes to parents behaving the way Johnny does with Robby. But, I also know that the writers are using the whole "generational trauma" thing to make Johnny seem sympathetic and redeemable/forgivable when it comes to Robby. I'm done with that, and I know some others who are done with that too.

Problem 5: Amends aren’t made - Ha! Of course Johnny has done absolutely nothing so far to make amends to the person he's hurt the most. In fact, Johnny is now in the negative since starting the series. In s5e4, Johnny asked Shannon for forgiveness: "It's what I should have done for him and you long ago. I quit too many jobs 'cause I didn't like 'em instead of considering what's best for all of us. I wasn't man enough to know it then, but I do now. I'm sorry I sucked, Shannon." But, Johnny still isn't man enough to say these things to and take accountability with Robby. In s6, Johnny has to be a real badass and start making amends with Robby directly. Though, I'm not sure how Johnny can do this. There seems to be no set up for Johnny actually redeeming himself to Robby other than the toxic blended family being put together like a flimsy, decrepit house of cards, that is Johnny's unearned rewards are written to fall apart. Johnny also has to play a vital role in taking down Cobra Kai for good. In s5e10, he was given the sidekick sensei fight, while Chozen and Daniel each had their fight with the Cobra Kai "Big Bad of the season" Silver. With his promise to erase Kreese's legacy and with Kreese's escape from jail, Johnny seems set up to have an important role in finally taking down Cobra Kai once and for all in s6. Also, the story is exploring generational trauma. The writers have always said that they're exploring how Johnny's relationship with Kreese affected Johnny's relationship with Robby. Part of Kreese's legacy is the generational trauma that Johnny has been passing down to Robby. Kreese's and Silver's interests in Robby since they each found out about him could possibly mean that Johnny making amends to Robby may eventually be tied to these storylines.

Because the story isn't over, it's not possible to judge the story completely at this point. I've only judged it based on what we have so far. However, given the fan perception of s1-s5, with most fans who believe that "something unrelated" has been addressed to redeem Johnny (Johnny's relationships with the Diazs at Robby's expense) to those fans who think Johnny has become irredeemable wrt Robby, Johnny's "redemption" story most likely isn't going to be lauded after it's over. It definitely won't compare to Zuko's redemption story from the original ATLA. Johnny's "redemption" story likely won't stand the test of time, and I wouldn't be surprised if it's soon forgotten after the hype of the show dies down.

(These are general thoughts and not directed at anyone I've interacted with in particular. Also, as always, please don't comment or reblog with dismissive comments about the nuance in the show. The nuance is part of the story, and the story is exploring important topics like trauma, bullying, dysfunctional relationships, and abuse.)

#cobra kai is robby's story #robby keene

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