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norrisainz33 · 2 days ago

Text

friend of a friend || MV33

☆ summary: max meets his dream girl through his friends good friend, pato o’ward

☆ pairing: max verstappen x mexican!reader

☆ fc & warnings: gala montes & poorly translated spanish and slightly suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for requesting and apologies for the delay 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynuser, redbullracing, schecoperez, charlesleclerc and 547,936 others

maxverstappen1: enjoying some much needed sun and relaxation before we head to vegas 😴

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user1: max i’ll meow if you need another cat

user2: i’m sorry who in the heck is in the last slide

user4: is he soft launching rn??? at a time like this???

user6: so this is why he still looks happy despite rbr woes

user7: is that his girlfriend?!

user8: max please give us the tea

user9: f1gossip im begging you to figure out who this is

redbullracing: happy you’re getting some r&r max 🤍

ynuser: mi novio es tan bonito [my boyfriend is so pretty]

[liked by maxverstappen1]

user9: now hold up ….. who is this and why did max like

f1gossip: taking note of this interaction

user12: ugh she’s private so we can’t even snoop but she’s followed by pato and elba oward, carlos, rebecca, rbr and checo

user13: this is pato and elba’s childhood friend!!! she’s good friends with them

user12: everyone say thank you user13

user3: the shirtless photos?? the soft launch??? how am i supposed to be normal

charlesleclerc: 👀

user4: i’m gonna miss ur fine ass when i scroll

user5: sometimes you just gotta say damn and move on

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

[staying here forever]

view all story replies

yourbff: in monaco???? no gracias. you can’t leave me like that 😭

ynuser: yes monaco!! it is so beautiful 🥹

yourbff: you’re not just saying that because of a certain man?

ynuser: oh no i am saying that bc of a certain man 😮‍💨 he is a dream come true bestie

yourbff: ugh do elba and pato have any other hot millionaire friends they could set me up with???

ynuser: i’ll ask them im sure they do

yourbff: preferably one who’s name rhymes with pranko dolapinto

ynuser: HAHAHA mi amiga

carlossainz55: te gusta monaco? [you like monaco?]

ynuser: yes!! i love it. you, me, rebecca and max should grab dinner one night while im here!!

carlossainz55: i’d love that

maxverstappen1: you can always move 🤷🏻‍♂️

ynuser: maybe one day 🤔

elbaoward: my work here is done 🥹

ynuser: you are a magician. how’d you know we were perfect for each other?

elbaoward: bc i know my best friend 🤍

ynuser: te amo elba 🫶🏻

redbullracing: can’t wait to see you in vegas!

patriciooward has made a post

liked by ynuser, elbaoward, yourbff, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 321,345 others

patriciooward: gentle mornings with my hermanas

view all 223 comments

user12: oh max is in the likes 👀

ynuser: why do you insist on picking the worst photos

patriciooward: it’s my brand

elbaoward: 💁🏻‍♀️

maxverstappen1: send me the last pic

patriciooward: done!

ynuser: PATO wtf

user12: user13 you were right

user1: oh to have gentle mornings with pato 😭

user3: i love that he calls y/n his sister too

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, carlossainz55, iamrebeccad, patriciooward, and 313 others

ynuser: la vida últimamente [life lately]

view all 22 comments

yourbff: ugh the red hair suits you

ynuser: i agree 🥹

maxverstappen1: prettiest girl in the whole world

ynuser: mi amor 🥹 i love you 🤍

maxverstappen1: te amo

elbaoward: the spanish 😭🥹🩷

maxverstappen1: i’m working on it!

iamrebeccad: dinner last night was so fun. let’s do it again 🤍

ynuser: i’d love that!! see you in vegas darling

patriciooward: oh so you’ll post but not answer my texts

ynuser: yes exactly

friend1: hermosa chica [beautiful girl]

maxverstappen1 has posted to his story

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user2: max emilian the man that you are

user4: screaming crying throwing up. i can’t believe he’s off the market

ynuser: my man my man my man 😍

maxverstappen1: that’s me baby

ynuser: thanks for inviting me to vegas with you

maxverstappen1: schjate you’re invited everywhere with me. i never want to be without you

ynuser: omg you big softie

charlesleclerc: oh she’s got you dressing up now too?

maxverstappen1: i want to look nice for my girl what can i say

charlesleclerc: oh he’s in love

maxverstappen1: 🤭 maybe

user5: i ! can’t believe you’re not wearing skinny jeans. the power she must have

schecoperez: i like this girl 😉

maxverstappen1: me too

user6: the emoji???????? max i’m speechless who are you

ynuser has added multiple stories 🔒

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yourbff: god you’re gorgeous. have so much fun at the race baby

ynuser: thank you bebe. vegas is amazing - i am having the best time

yourbff: living vicariously through you 🥹

maxverstappen1: you have no business looking this good especially when there’s nothing i can do about it 😫

ynuser: win me the race and you can have me as a prize later 😉

maxverstappen1: you got it baby

elbaoward: are you in red bull hospitality??? come to mclaren i want to see youuuuu

ynuser: yes i’m in red bull but will cross enemy lines for you gorgeous

patriciooward: hermana donde estas? [sister where are you?]

ynuser: omw patito

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, yourbff, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 7,234 others

f1gossip: in an interview earlier today max confirmed his relationship with, y/n y/l/n. y/n is childhood friends with elba and pato o’ward and it turns out that the siblings introduced max and y/n in miami earlier this season. the pair hit it off immediately according to max and “it was the closest thing to love at first sight he’d ever experienced.” she’s in attendance today at the grand prix! let us know if you get the chance to meet her and if there’s any further intel you get

view all 271 comments

user1: ohhhhh max 🥹

user2: this interview melted my heart. he looked so genuinely happy to be talking about her

user7: i love seeing him happy

user3: i’m obsessed with them already. perhaps my new favorite wag

user4: love at first sight???? i’m not crying! you are!!

user6: the way max also talked about trying to learn spanish for her because she’s mexican and how he’s also trying to teach her some of his language too 🥹😭

user8: this is the sweetest thing. that is true love idc what any of yall say

user5: i hope a love like this finds me one day

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynuser, yourbff, schecoperez, alex_albon, patriciooward, and 645,123 others

maxverstappen1: vegas you were a fun one - thanks for having me and y/n/n!

view all 546 comments

user2: y/n/n 😭

user4: crying my eyes out

user6: yayyy maxie!!! glad to see you on the podium again

ynuser: te amo mucho vegas 🤍

maxverstappen1: and you te amo mucho me too right?

ynuser: omg yes maxie. i love you endlessly

user14: SIMP

user15: max asking for validation has done something to me.

charlesleclerc: great drive max!

patriciooward: take care of my girl ok?

maxverstappen1: you got it pato! no need to worry

redbullracing: our champion 💪🏻

user8: jealousy isn’t cute on me but here we are

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thank you for reading!! reblogs, feedback and likes are very appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

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r0ugesun · 3 months ago

Note

I have a fluff maybe to slight spicy request for Aemond Targaryen if you are interested!

Aemond finally becomes betrothed to princess!reader of a different house (can be any it don’t matter) but has circulation problems so she’s always cold and therefore fretted over making Aemond believe she is spoiled. But upon being proven wrong from maybe bonding over books or hell training, falls in love and carries her to bed when the cold gets to her and her bed is just full of blankets to cuddle in.

(Aemond deserves all the intimacy and cuddles)

Thank you for sending me this request anon and sorry for the delay! Ur right Aemond deserves all the cuddles (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Synopsis: Princess y/n of House Martell arrives at the wintry Red Keep as Prince Aemond’s betrothed. As y/n’s warmth and intellect begin to break through Aemond’s icy exterior, he finds himself drawn to her. In return, Aemond’s protective embrace provides y/n the warmth she desperately needs.

Aemond x Martell!Reader

Prince Aemond Targaryen’s engagement to Princess y/n of House Martell was a union crafted to solidify political alliances. While their marriage was intended to serve as a strategic move, it was marred by the disparity in their circumstances. Princess y/n, renowned for her exotic beauty and noble grace, suffered from a rare condition that left her perpetually cold. This affliction required constant warmth, a need that Aemond initially perceived as a sign of pampering rather than genuine necessity.

From the moment y/n arrived at the red keep in the middle of a particularly harsh winter, the contrast between them was stark. The grand halls of the castle were adorned with tapestries of fearsome dragons and Targaryen banners, but y/n’s presence was marked by her constant need for warmth. She was swathed in layers of heavy furs, her every movement accompanied by a retinue of attendants. Aemond observed from a distance, noting her delicate appearance and the attentiveness of her servants. His initial impressions were marked by skepticism and a hint of disdain.

Their first meeting was formal, a carefully orchestrated affair. Aemond greeted her with his characteristic stoicism. “Princess y/n” he said, his tone courteous but distant, “I trust your journey was comfortable?”

Y/N offered a polite smile, though her eyes revealed a trace of weariness. “Thank you, Prince Aemond. The journey was long, but I am well. Though I must admit, the cold here is harsher than I expected.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his gaze indifferent. “You are accustomed to much warmer climates in dorne, I’m sure. Adapting to this cold must be challenging.”

Y/n’s voice was steady as she replied, “It is indeed a challenge, but I am here to fulfill my duty. I hope to contribute meaningfully despite the discomfort.”

Aemond's eyes remained cold as he regarded

Y/n. "Your sense of duty is admirable, though I can't help but wonder if you’ll be a hindrance rather than a help."

Y/N’s eyes flashed with sharpness, though her smile remained placid. She titled her head slightly before she spoke.

“I suppose we'll find out soon enough. I’ve faced challenges before. If I can endure the cold, I’m certain I can manage other… inconveniences.”

Aemond’s lips curled slightly in a thin smile, more of a smirk than a genuine expression of amusement. “Mmm. I wonder if your resolve will hold up as well when faced with the less glamorous aspects of life here.”

“Let’s hope” y/n replied smoothly. “It’s one thing to endure the elements, another to contend with a lack of charm.”

Aemond’s gaze sharpened slightly, but his tone remained even. “Charm is not a luxury I indulge in, Princess. I prefer matters of substance.”

Y/n had a smirk of her own now, her expression thoughtful. “Substance is important, but so is the ability to navigate social graces. Otherwise, one might come off as... unlikable.”

Aemond’s expression did not shift. “And you, Princess, are known for your social prowess?”

“I am known for many things, my prince” y/n said with a wry smile.

“Including the ability to keep my composure even when faced with frosty reception—both literal and figurative.”

Aemond’s eyes flickered with a hint of respect, though he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism. “We shall see if your composure extends to the political intricacies of our alliance.”

“I have no doubt it will” y/n replied confidently. “After all, if I can manage to stay warm and navigate through a wintry castle, I believe I can handle the complexities of court politics.”

Aemond regarded her with a piercing look, as if assessing whether her confidence was merely bravado or a genuine asset. “We shall see, indeed.”

Days passed, and the cold of King's Landing seemed even more relentless. Aemond, finding solace in the library's quiet, often retreated there to escape the castle's demands. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ancient tomes, he entered the library to find an unexpected sight: Y/N, comfortably nestled near the hearth, a thick fur draped over her shoulders, engrossed in a book.

Aemond paused, his usual stoic demeanor faltering for a moment. He approached her with measured steps, his curiosity piqued. "Princess" he greeted, his tone more neutral than before.

Y/blooked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes before she smiled with a hint of apprehension. "Prince Aemond. I didn't expect to see you here."

"The library is a place of comfort for me" he admitted, his gaze drifting over the bookshelves. "I come here often to escape the... noise."

Y/n nodded, her fingers tracing the edges of the book she held. "I think it’s quite peaceful myself. I find the histories of your lineage particularly fascinating."

As Aemond sat across from her, he noticed the title of the book in her hands. "The Histories of Dorne and Aegon the conquerer" he remarked. "An interesting choice."

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with interest. "I was just reading about Aegon’s failed conquest of Dorne. It seems he underestimated the resilience of the Dornish people."

Aemond’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "Aegon was a formidable conqueror, but he came unprepared, the Dornish have always been adept at guerrilla warfare, using the knowledge of their land to their advantage."

Y/n leaned forward slightly, her interest genuine. "Do you think he could have succeeded if he had approached the conquest differently?"

Aemond considered her question, appreciating the depth of her curiosity. "Perhaps. He tried to discredit your ancestors with slanders and rumors when his dragons failed, of course that endeavor proved fruitless as well, if it were me I would’ve hired mercenaries familiar with the terrain and the culture”

Y/n smiled wryly “Wars are not won with bloodshed alone my prince If he had been more willing to negotiate and form alliances rather than relying solely on brute force, he might have had a better chance. The Dornish value our independence highly, we would not bow to mere threats."

Aemond’s gaze softened, clearly intrigued by her insight. “It seems you have a keen grasp of the intricacies of the histories and strategy. I imagine you would have made a formidable advisor.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, but she remained composed. “Thank you, my prince. I’ve always believed that knowledge and perspective are key to navigating both conflict and peace.”

Aemond’s smile widened slightly, a rare gesture that hinted at genuine admiration. “I look forward to hearing more of your perspectives.”

Their debates on the histories of the realm continued, the conversation flowing easily between them. They discussed strategies, historical figures, and the nuances of Dornish culture versus the Targaryen way of conquest. Aemond found himself increasingly drawn to her intellect and passion, her perspectives challenging and enlightening.

As the evening wore on, Aemond realized with a start that he was enjoying her company. Y/n’s confident demeanor were a stark contrast to his initial impressions. He found himself admiring the way she held her own in their debate, unafraid to challenge his views.

As the days turned into weeks, the cold of King's Landing seemed to grow less oppressive for y/n and Aemond, though winter’s bite was still unmistakable. One crisp afternoon, the pair decided to take a stroll through the Kingswood, a vast expanse of trees and tranquility that lay on the outskirts of the city.

Wrapped in their furs, they walked side by side, their conversation flowing as seamlessly as the wind through the trees. They continued their discussion of history. Aemond found himself enthralled by y/n’s insights and the way she animatedly discussed the events of the past.

As they wandered further into the wood, engrossed in their discourse, they lost track of time. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the temperature dropped sharply. Y/n’s delicate frame began to show signs of discomfort, her shivering becoming more pronounced.

Aemond’s keen eyes noticed her struggle first. “Princess, you appear distressed” he said, his voice laced with concern. “We should head back.”

Y/n tried to maintain her composure, but her attempts were faltering. “I’m quite cold” she admitted, her voice trembling. She winced as she took another step, her limp becoming more noticeable. “Perhaps... we should indeed return.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed as he observed her growing discomfort. Without a second thought, he scooped her into his arms with surprising ease. Y/n gasped, both startled and flustered by the sudden, intimate contact. Her cheeks flushed, though it was not entirely from the cold.

Aemond, maintaining a careful hold, began to carry her back through the woods. His stride was steady and purposeful, though he could not ignore the feeling of Y/N nestled close against him. The warmth of her body against his own was both a contrast to the frigid air and a comfort he had not anticipated.

As they neared the castle, Y/N’s embarrassment was palpable. She attempted to speak through her shivering. “M-my prince, you needn’t carry me. I can manage!”

Aemond’s gaze softened as he looked down at her. “You are in no condition to walk, Princess. Allow me to ensure you are safely returned to your chambers.”

Despite her initial resistance, Y/N found herself settling into his embrace, her coldness slowly melting away with each step Aemond took. The castle’s warmth greeted them as they entered, and Aemond carried her up the grand staircase, his movements deliberate and careful.

Upon reaching their chambers, Aemond gently set y/n down on the edge of the large, ornate bed. He took a moment to stoke the fire, ensuring the room was warm and inviting. Y/n watched him with a mixture of gratitude and bashfulness.

“Thank you” she said quietly as he helped her settle under the heavy, embroidered blankets. “I didn’t expect...”

Aemond interrupted her softly, a rare tenderness in his voice. “There is no need to thank me. It is my duty as your future husband to ensure your well being.”

As the fire crackled and the warmth enveloped her, y/n began to relax. Aemond, though maintaining his usual stoicism, could not ignore the growing affection he felt. He seated himself beside her, his presence a comforting shield against the chill.

Y/n looked at him, her eyes reflecting both relief and a newfound closeness. “You’ve been very kind, Aemond. I appreciate it more than you know.”

Aemond nodded, his own emotions subtly shifting. “I am glad to see you more comfortable. It would be remiss of me to let you suffer.”

The fire's glow cast a warm halo around them, and the room was filled with a tender intimacy that seemed to wrap around them like the softest of blankets. Y/n’s eyes met Aemond's, and for a moment, the world outside their secluded chamber fell away. The air was thick with an unspoken yearning, a deep desire that neither could ignore.

Aemond's gaze softened as he took in the sight of her, his usual composure giving way to a rare display of vulnerability. The warmth from the hearth made her cheeks flush, her lips slightly parted in a way that made Aemond's heart ache with a longing he had not anticipated. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch tender and lingering.

As he leaned in, their breaths mingled, warm and intertwined. The kiss that followed was not hurried but slow and filled with a profound tenderness. It was as if Aemond was trying to savor every moment, every sensation of her closeness. His lips moved gently against hers, exploring with a careful, reverent touch. The kiss was a quiet confession of his growing affection, a promise of warmth and devotion.

Y/n felt a delicious shiver of pleasure as he placed his warm hands under her dress and caressing her thighs, melting into his embrace, her cold body finally finding solace in the heat of his touch. Aemond's arms wrapped around her with a desperate kind of need, pulling her closer as if he could absorb her cold and make it his own. His warmth seemed to seep into her, chasing away the chill that had plagued her since her arrival.

With each press of his lips every soft touch under her clothes, Aemond conveyed a yearning that went beyond mere physical desire. It was a yearning for connection, for understanding, for something deeper than the political arrangement that had brought them together. His touch was both possessive and protective, He was a fire that would keep her brittle heart warm.

When they finally parted, their foreheads resting together, Aemond’s eye was filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

Y/n’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “You bring warmth to more than just my body, Aemond. You’re igniting something in me that I never knew I needed.”

Aemonds eye shone with a mix of relief and affection as he looked down at her. “I never thought I’d find comfort like this.”

Aemond’s smile was soft, almost shy, as he brushed his thumb lightly over her cheek as she spoke.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so unexpected can bring such warmth to our lives.”

Y/n nuzzled her nose with his and wrapped her leg over Aemond’s waist, drawing herself closer to him. The closeness of their bodies created an even more intimate cocoon, reinforcing their shared warmth. The contact of her leg against his body was both grounding and tender, a subtle way of expressing her trust and affection.

Aemond’s hold tightened slightly, his eye closing in contentment as he savored the sensation of her closeness. His hand continued its soothing caress, and he rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in a warm, gentle rhythm. “You are my only warmth” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/n’s eyes met his with a tender, knowing look. “And you are mine.” she replied softly, her lips brushing against his in a final, lingering kiss. They were each others warmth and comfort.

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lamemaster · 8 months ago

Text

Made of Sugar

Request: Hi! Hope this finds you well, mind if i req for a Thranduil x reader where they're like telling legolas how they met, maybe they met during the war of the last alliance? anyways love ur work especially the angst but now i need some not angst? cus im actually going to cry lmao

Pairing: Thranduil x Wife Reader

Genre: Fluff

AN: This has been due a long time! I'm sorry for the delay but this writer suffers from smooth brain 98% of the time.

“Legolas Thranduilion!” Your voice rings out loud, breaking his thoughts. For once, he wishes his father's presence was there. “Have I not made it clear that you are not to go to the wine cellars?” You pinch your nose blinking furiously as was your habit when agitated.

Legolas hasn’t known love stronger than the one he has felt for you, his eme. Your stories, your songs, the little stars you paint on the roof of his room– Legolas absorbs them with the wide-eyed devotion of a sunflower turning its face to the first rays of the sun.

But all that love does not diminish the distress of your anger. You, the one who laughed most easily, whose smile could chase away any shadow, were now a storm cloud gathered over his head.

The familiar scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke that clung to you did little to soothe the storm brewing in your eyes. Legolas flinched – he knew the terrifying, steely glint that hardened your gaze when truly angered. It was a sight rarer than a dust storm in Greenwood, but all the more impactful when it came.

At barely 80 years old, facing your wrath felt far more daunting than any monstrous spider lurking in the Greenwood.

"You are too young," you said, your voice tight. "Just you wait until I tell Thranduil." You paced around the room, pinching the bridge of your nose, a telltale sign of your agitation. "Maybe he will listen and move the wine cellars away from the main palace."

Staring at the untouched cakes, Legolas yearned for nothing more than for this tension to pass. He longed to see your easy smile return. The sight of untouched cakes, usually a source of joy, only emphasized the heavy weight of your displeasure. He longed for the days when your laughter filled the room, chasing away any shadow.

“Beloved queen of mine,” Thranduil sauntered in, his footsteps barely a whisper on the polished floor. The scent of pine needles and leather, a familiar trail, announced his presence even before he entered. “The cellar unfortunately cannot be moved.” Thranduil is already in the process of taking off his heavy robes while detangling his hair from the crown's tiny branches.

Legolas watched with a flicker of worry as your eyes narrowed in annoyance before you gave up to help his ada. "He went in there today," your gaze felt heavy on him even as you busied yourself helping Thranduil detangle the crown. "What if he drank your wine? That thing is disgusting and Legolas is too young. You must move the wine somewhere else." You placed the crown on the table.

Thranduil threw him an amused grin as your back remained turned to them as you instructed the staff to bring fresh snacks and tea. "What if I didn't get there in time…good thing Feren was kind enough to inform me."

"I am disappointed Legolas," Thranduil looked at him without an ounce of anger, and your glare at the king of Greenwood told him that this did not go unnoticed by you. "But I am sorry, my love," He looked up at you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, "The cellars must remain untouched. I would never in a million ages, change the place of our first meeting."

Legolas' breath hitched in his throat. You frowned. And Thranduil snickered in delight.

"You cannot be serious!" You replied indignantly.

"You met in the wine cellars?!" Legolas asked at the same time.

"We did, ion," Thranduil adds before you can cover his lips with your palm. Thranduil throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room. A weird sight to see you this flustered, this agitated.

"We did not!"

"We absolutely did!"

"Well, I was 120," you say, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "You were not princeling."

The servants gawk at the term of endearment that slips past your lips. Some almost drop the trays of food as they put them in front of you. But both you and Thranduil are too taken by the task of bickering like decade-old elflings. "Oh yeah, I too was of age," Thranduil counters with a twinkle in his eye. "Almost of age. Only 4 years shy of it."

Thranduil straightens up, taking a playful bite into a fruit cake. "Four years too young, my love," you smirk, the topic of Legolas' transgression long forgotten. The steel of your rage softened into its original inky warmth.

"I acquiesce, my respected elder," Thranduil bows dramatically, sending another wave of laughter through the room. Legolas watched in amusement, a flicker of relief washing over him as the conversation shifted. Your voices rose in a playful argument.

Legolas, eyeing the untouched cakes, finally understood. Your gentle nature thrived beside his father, much like the sweetness of a cake is best appreciated with a pinch of salt.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil #legolas #fluff #tolkien #tolkien elves #family feels

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darksigns-exe · 2 months ago

Text

a thousand flowers could bloom - noah sebastian x f!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: swearing, dry humping, big feelings

note: by request from an anon <3 im so sorry that it's taking me FOREVER to get to these.

masterlist | read pt 2 here | taglist sign-up

Finding Noah in your apartment like this isn’t unusual. Over the course of your friendship, you got used to Noah taking full advantages of the spare key you had given him. Most of the time he announces himself with a quick text, but on occasion he’ll already be there by the time you come home from work, the store or some social obligation.

Today was one of those occasions. He’s stretched out over the length of your two-seater when you unlock the door, feet dangling over the edge of it. It’s fairly late, and he seemingly hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights before he’d made a home for himself on your sofa. Noah is so fast asleep that he doesn’t notice you moving around the room, he only stirs when you find a place for yourself amongst his limbs. He stretches with a stifled groan, blinking up at you, still firmly held in the grasp of sleep.

“When did you get back?” he asks, voice still a little rough.

It’s so awfully domestic.

There’s really no denying it. What you feel for him can’t be just friendship. Moment’s like this make you feel as if you’re about one step away from your relationship becoming more than that, but at the same time you know how difficult it can be to be with someone like him. The touring and the other demands of his line work already make it difficult to be his friend. And even then, you don’t even know if he wants you like that.

Realising that you’ve been silent for a moment too long, you shake yourself out of your silence.

“Half an hour ago, maybe?” you reply.

He squints at you for a moment before breaking into a smile, “I had to get out of the house for a bit, hope I didn’t interrupt any plans?”

In a way he did, but Noah doesn’t need to know about that.

“You’re good.”

You adjust your position as he sits up, giving you a little more space.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Noah announces then.

As if you’d expect anything else from him, the boy is somehow always hungry.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t order anything before I got here.” you counter, “Our usual place is closed today, so you’ll have to settle for something else.”

From the sigh he lets out, you’d think that the greatest of tragedies had just struck him. Eventually, he grumbles out a resigned fine, and you’re so sure that you can see him rolling his eyes like a petulant child. You settle on a different restaurant but realise too late that this place has an expected delivery time of almost an hour.

You decide to put a record onto the turntable while you wait and settle on a favourite of yours.

Dummy by Portishead.

The soft pulsing beat of the opening track settles you into a comfortable mood. With your legs thrown over Noah’s lap, you’re more than comfortable. Your idle chatter is interrupted when Noah’s phone dings with a notification that lets you know that your delivery will be delayed by a good twenty minutes.

The delay quickly flees your mind when his hand settles a little too high on your thigh. The touch is innocent enough, really, and maybe it’s only the music that makes it feel like more than it actually is. But you can’t deny the warm feeling that spreads throughout your body.

The conversation steering into a more intimate direction doesn’t exactly help your situation. It’s not uncommon for the two of you to talk about your relationships, although you’ve noticed that Noah has talked less about seeing people in recent months. When he would sometimes tell you about the people he went out with, he’d been suspiciously silent on the matter recently, and you can’t help but wonder if he isn’t seeing anyone or if he’s just not telling you about it.

“I don’t know, it just feels like everyone’s a disappointment, you know? I don’t know if my expectations are too high or if people are just shit.” you conclude your rant about the state of your love life.

Noah eyes you for a moment, “And what do you expect?” Your breath catches in your throat when you look at him. He’s never looked at you like this before – or if he has, you’d never noticed. His eyes are blown wide, lips caught between his teeth. Somehow, you already know that whatever you’re about to tell him will change things between you.

“I guess I just want someone to want me, if that make sense? I don’t think I’m asking for too much with that.”

Noah clears his throat. His hand pulses on your thigh, and you’re acutely aware of how intensely he’s pinning you down with his stare. “Oh, absolutely not.” his hand wanders up your thigh so tentatively, “Maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong place.”

Your heart thumps in your chest.

Surely he isn’t insinuating what is spinning around in your head.

“Do you think so?”

You sit up, but don’t quite detach yourself from him yet. Your palms feel awfully sweaty, and you have to force yourself to take deep breaths.

In the moments before he answers, you feel yourself spiralling through all kinds of scenarios.

“I don’t know, maybe you should look a little closer to home.”

His hand settles above your hip. It doesn’t feel foreign, you’ve always been a bit more tactile with each other. You know that part of what has been holding you back from falling into bed with just anyone has been the high expectation you have for your first real sexual encounter. Sure, you’ve made out with people, but it never turned into more. Something had always felt off.

Something you don’t feel right now.

“Noah?” you ask quietly, afraid to break this delicate moment.

“Yes?” his reply sound just as trembling as you feel.

You can’t find the right words then. Suddenly, everything you could say feels so out of place, so insignificant.

Thankfully, Noah seems to sense your predicament.

“Look at me for a moment, will you?” he says softly, drawing your attention to him, “Nothing has to happen here unless that’s what you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. We can just put a pin in this and come back to it when you’re ready for it.”

As much as you appreciate his concern for you, right now your mind is set on a single track. You don’t know where the confidence suddenly comes from, but you’re glad that it finds you. It takes Noah a moment to catch up when your lips meet his. A second later, his hand finds the side of your face. When you part, his cheeks are tinged bright pink.

You can’t stay away from him for long, though. Y0u scramble towards him, coming to rest atop his thigh. His arms wrap around your body, keeping you close to him. Noah pushes his thigh upward, bringing it into contact with your centre. It’s just a small touch, lessened by the fabric of your shorts, but it still sends a spike of heat up your spine.

You feel a little out of your depth with this. In theory, you know what you’re supposed to do, but in practice it feels so daunting. And when you pull away from his lips, Noah’s face immediately twists into a concerned furrow.

“Is everything okay? Too much?”

His hands settle on your waist, as he fixes you with just so much worry.

“I just don’t know – I don’t know what I’m doing.” You admit feeling a little more foolish than you’d like to admit.

The concern fades into something softer, “Do you want me to help, love?”

You nod, unable to find your voice.

“Alright. Okay.” you can tell that he’s sorting through his thoughts, “Tell me if something doesn’t feel good, okay?”

“I will.”

A faint smile plays on his lips, “Good.”

With his hands still holding onto your waist, he brings his thigh back into contact with you. The rhythm he helps you find is slow enough, and you find yourself taking over fairly quickly. Noah keeps one hand on your waist, while the other moves up the side of your body, creeping up towards your ribs. His thigh shifts beneath you, drawing a hitched breath from you.

“Is that good?” he asks softly, his gazed fixed on your face.

You can only nod, feeling much too overwhelmed to vocalise how you feel beyond the soft sighs that have been pouring from your lips.

Noah pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around your body once more. Your hips move against him seemingly on their own. It’s so dizzying. If you already feel like this with this many layers of clothing separating you, how good will it feel when you can actually feel his skin against yours?

You feel Noah bury his face in the side of your neck, shifting his body, allowing you to feel how much this affects him too. He moans against your skin when you move against him a little more intentionally.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” you speak into the crook of your neck, lips barely lifting from your skin.

Your fingers twist into his hair, trying to keep him there as best as you can. The sound he makes when you tug at it a little makes you shiver.

“Noah.” you sigh.

The pleasant sting of him sucking a bruise into your skin makes your head spin even more. That knot in your middle feels so tight already, even with so much separating you.

“Lie down for me, love?”

His face is so soft, cheeks flushed, lips spit-slicked.

Noah helps you shift onto your back and covers your body with his as soon as you’re resting against the cushions. He hovers above you for a moment longer, gazing down at you with an impossible softness. And just as he leans down to kiss you again, the aggravating sound of your doorbell tears through the moment.

His forehead drops to your shoulder as he lets out a heavy sigh.

Noah presses a quick kiss to your lips before he lifts himself off you again. Your eyes fall shut for a second as you try to make sense of what just happened.

I’ve wanted this for so long.

The words spin around your head. He wanted this – you.

When you open your eyes and sit up, Noah is still talking to the delivery person. He returns to you a moment later, placing the bags on your coffee table. He sits next to you, wringing his hands together for a moment before he turns towards you.

“We should talk about this.” he sounds so awfully hesitant, “I don’t want us to feel weird – I really don’t want you to feel as if I’m forcing something –”

Instead of letting him ramble on into oblivion, you take the initiative and press a chaste kiss to his lips, effectively shutting him up.

“Or we could eat and finish this later. You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for this.” It takes a second for your words to reach his head, but when they do, he gives you an almost wicked smile.

“Oh, we will absolutely finish this later.”

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken @poisongirl616 @mysticdoodlez @agravemisstake

#noah sebastian x f!reader #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic

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bruhnze · 4 months ago

Text

I love weddings - Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Writen for the anon that requested it, i enjoyed writing it so thanks for the request!

Wordcount: about 7k? pretty big one..

Warnings: smut, minors dni

I Love Weddings – fictional story based on a true event?

"Lucy would come to this wedding too right?" Ona asked Alessia Russo.

"Bronzey? Yeah i believe so, Stani and her are best friends" Alessia replied carelessly. "Maybe her plane delayed or something".

''Yeah'' Jordan Nobbs tuned in ''she texted me, plane got delayed to this morning, that why she didn’t get in last night''.

"Ah shit, hope she'll still make it on time" Demi Stokes said as she joined the conversation.

Millie Turner laughed "ofcourse she will, she never loses, no finals and certainly not the change to be at her best friends wedding".

Everyone that was gathered around in the suit Lucy Staniforth had slept in, started talking about other subjects, but Ona was still thinking about Lucy.

With Staniforth’s bachelorette party Ona had had an amazing time with Lucy Bronze, someone she had certainly known about but had never formally met before. Ona had been giddy knowing Lucy was also going to be at Stani's hen party.

She had used Lucy's games a lot as examples to develop her playing style, so she had been watching Lucy as a player for hours. When she had finally met Lucy in real life, finding it amazing to meet her idol, she hadn't expected to be so attracted to the right back.

Lucy had this energy that drew Ona in, they had been talking the whole evening at the bachelorette’s party, about football but eventually also about other things. Ona had wished that night had ended in something more, but Lucy and her had been pulled to the dancefloor and after that they had kind of lost track of eachother.

She hadn't dared to send a message or anything, thinking the English woman was way out of her league and probably didn't even remember much of the night.But for this wedding Ona had planned to make work of her crush. After all, the craziest hook-up stories happend at weddings, atleast that was what Ona knew.

///

Lucy had arrived just in time for the end of the dress up part, it was 11am.

"Hey guys, sorry i'm late" she kissed Lucy Stan on both cheeks "you look amazing".

Staniforth laughed "im litteraly in a robe".

"Yup, i see that, but it’s true, you do look amazing" Lucy said smiling genuine at her longtime best friend ´´i´m so excited for your wedding Stani!´´.

"Well im glad you made it Bronzey" Lucy S. smiled "we’ve saved you a glass of champagne and your outfit is hanging there on the clothing rack´´ she points across the room ´´and she can do your make up if you want any".

"How well organized! Thanks, i´ll better hurry" Lucy walked to were the other girls were sitting, Ona was getting her make up done and Mille's hair was being done.

"JORDS!!!" Lucy gave her friend the biggest hug "i missed you".

"Yeah Lucy missed you too, damn, you're so tanned, Barca doing you good huh?" Jordan said.

Lucy went around the room greeting all the girls, everyone that had been at the bachelorettes was invited to be at the wedding the complete day, unlike the other guests who would arrive later, before the ceremony.

Ona was done with her make up and followed Millie who walked over to Alessia and Lucy who were chatting up. "Hey Lucy, long time no see" Millie said as she quickly pecked Lucy’s cheeks in an embrace.

After that Lucy turned to Ona "hey Ona, nice to see you again" and held her arms open invitingly.

Ona was eager to oblige and didn't care if her make up would get smudged as it was just on. She just had to give Lucy some kisses on her cheeks, it was etiquette after all.. right. ‘’hey Lucy, glad you could make it in time, heard you had some troubles on the way?’’.

‘’Yeah, the plane got delayed’’ Lucy sighed as she pulled her head back again but still held Ona's shoulders ‘’but I made it’’.

‘’you made it’’ Ona and Lucy’s eyes were locked on each others for a couple more seconds then you would expect from two people who hardly knew eachother.

No one in the room paid attention to them and the pair broke away from eachother after Lucy told Ona she had to get her hair fixed and put on the outfit, before she caused any more delay.

‘’Yeah ofcourse’’ Ona cleared her throat ‘’I’m sure we’ll have some time to catch up later’’. She cringed at herself, for her it was unfinished business, but to Lucy they were probably still practically strangers.

‘’Sounds good, I’ll talk to you later then Ona’’. Lucy said with a smile before she walked over to the hairdresser.

As Lucy Bronze got her hair done she thought about the encounter. [Was she imagining things or was Ona being very friendly towards her? When they had lost eachother during the bachelorettes party, Lucy had been disappointed, but she hadn’t dared to send a message, she didn’t want to come across as a creep, being eight years older then the Spanish woman, and Ona was also way out of her league].

"Would you like to loosen those tufts of hair here? That's a bit more playful than just the bun." The hairdresser asked Lucy.

Lucy’s thoughts were interrupted by the woman doing her hair, but she didn’t get what had been asked ‘’sorry what did you say?’’.

The hairdresser smiled kindly ‘’I think it would be cute to leave a few strands of hair loose, I can curl it a bit, it will look really nice with that low bun you want’’.

''Oh yes, do whatever you want, I trust you'' Lucy smiled.

As the morning went on, more people got to the location. The next thing on the agenda was a lunch. For the lunch there were some family members joining and some other close friends. After that would be the ceremony, where even more people were invited for and after that there would be a dinner with everyone. The day would be ending with a big party in the hall that the venue had, one with a DJ-booth.

‘’Yeah I like playing against you’’ Lucy overheard Jordan saying to Ona ‘’I don’t really know you but your always so nice and respectful, it’s a shame your so good though’’.

‘’thank you Jordan’’ Ona got a cute blush on her face, Lucy couldn’t help but join their conversation ‘’but what do you mean with shame, good is good, no?’’.

Lucy scuffed Jordans head ‘’she means it’s a shame she loses every duel’’.

‘’nooo my hair bruv’’ Jordan slapped Lucy’s hand away ‘’and yes Ona, I meant your a very good player, and I think it’s nice to get to know you outside of football too’’.

‘’yeah very nice’’ Lucy chimed in ‘’I was disappointed I lost you the other night’’.

Jordan frowned ‘’what?’’

‘’Oh at the bachelorettes party’’ Ona answered for Lucy.

‘’yeah, we were talking but I got abducted by Stani and you’’ Lucy laughed.

Ona laughed too ‘’yeah and Millie and Russo abducted me’’.

Jordan laughed ‘’ahh, didn’t know.. Ohhh was that why you asked if Lucy was still coming this morning Ona? Must’ve been an interesting conversation if yous are still remembering it, what was it about?’’.

Ona was blushing at Jordan telling she was asking after Lucy this morning and when she looked over she saw Lucy smiling at her amusedly. She smiled back at Lucy and again there was this eye contact that made the world around them disappear.

‘’Hm?’’ Jordan asked ‘’what was it about?’’. Jordan was oblivious to what was going on in front of her, she didn’t think anything of it, she was just curious what could be so interesting to still want to finish talking about weeks later.

‘’Oh ehrm’’ Lucy cleared her throat, still looking at Ona ‘’oh you know, I live in spain now, playing at Barca, Ona has also played at Barca and we talked about Spanish vs English culture, ehrm I don’t know some other things’’.

‘’Yeah’’ Ona smiled dreamy ‘’hmm spain, I miss spain, Lucy can speak a little Spanish but no Catalan yet’’.

‘’Okaayyy’’ Lucy put her arms up defensively ‘’I didn’t know this was some assessment about my ability’s’’.

Ona snapped out of her thoughts [shit did she say that out loud?],she had wandered off into thoughts about how she wanted to teach Lucy Spanish and how she wanted to show Lucy around the neighborhood where she grew up ‘’shit sorry, it was just a- a- i-

Lucy laughed ‘’it’s allright, it’s true I am in desperate need of some Catalan lessons’’.

Ona nodded eagerly ‘’I would love to teach you Catalan’’.

Jordan laughed ‘’eyy something your not the best at Bronze! Hahaha, Ona can speak English better than you speak Spanish!’’.

‘’Catalan is not Spanish!’’ Lucy and Ona said at the same time.

‘’Oh what, sorry’’ Jordan looked confused, seemingly having said something stupid.

As the lunch was served Lucy and Ona explained Jordan the difference between Catalan and Spanish and Ona gave a quick history lesson. And Lucy defended herself about her Spanish and Catalan skills, as she had just moved there and was trying her best.

The day went on and it was lovely. The wedding was beautiful and the speeches had been wholesome. When Staniforth’s friends were up for a little say, Lucy also said some words but Ona was too mesmerized to understand what Lucy, Demi and Jordan were talking about. The thick English accents probably also didn't help with that.

As the friends came back to sit in the crowd, in the row before Ona, she couldn’t resist to rub Lucy's shoulder "beautiful speech" she said quietly as a reason for the touch.

‘’Thanks’’ Lucy grinned back, knowing they had just spent 20 minutes roasting Lucy S., but she’ll accept the compliment either way, maybe Ona had made a translating error,.. but she couldn’t help but think Ona had been a bit distracted.

During dinner Ona was sat with Millie and Alessia, who also didn’t know the family of the brides quite that well, they were friends with Lucy Staniforth but they only knew her on a football and friend level.

Lucy, Jordan and Demi on the other hand, were long time best friends with Lucy S. and were now at tables with some family members they knew. Ona spotted Lucy talking to some guy, presumably a brother or cousin or something. She tried to focus on the conversation at her table but she couldn’t help looking over at Lucy every once in a while.

Lucy looked like she was having a very funny conversation with the guy. At one of the umpteenth times when Ona glanced at Lucy, Ona’s eyes met hers. Ona blushed and looked down at her plate, before looking up again a few seconds later, Lucy was still looking at her and winked at her, smiling, before returning to her conversation. Ona's stomach fluttered at the wink.

Ona tried to have a nice chat with the people at her table throughout the dinner, she made some jokes now and then and ate her food, but as far as she was concerned it couldn't be over quickly enough.

It was a light dinner with many courses but always small dishes, it was delicious.

Someone with a microphone said that during dessert some family members of the other bride, Laura, were going to do a little play about how Laura had come home after going on a date with Stani, and that had been the moment her family had known she had been in love.

Lucy thought it was super cute, she always loved weddings, it was so nice to have all the loved ones of a couple come together and celebrate the love of the couple together.

She herself had also seriously considered getting married at one point in her past, she had been really in love with her ex Keira, with whom she had been together for 7 years, but over the years they had fallen into a routine. They had no chemistry anymore, and sometimes Lucy wandered if they had had any to begin with, Lucy had often talked to Keira about their future, but they both had very different ideas about it. That's why they broke up. It had gone smoothly, but it had still been painful. But overall they had broke up on good terms, even sharing custody over their dog, Narla.

After that Lucy had dated, or, well, slept around quite a bit. She didn't want commitment for a while, just some casual sex with attractive ladies to feel wanted again and simply because, to be honest, she had hardly been intimate in the last year of the relationship.

Now Lucy was in a good place, she felt good, she was happy with who she was and occasionally, if she felt like it, she could flirt with ladies while going out and sometimes someone would come home with her.

She wasn't looking for a relationship, she just did what she felt like, and for now that was unproblematic and casual. If it had been just any bar in Barcelona, she would have loved to bring home a lady like Ona, but Ona was also a footballer, so ‘the status of being a footballer’ which normally came in handy and made many women gush over her, wouldn’t work on the Spanish football star who had won enough trophies herself.

At least that was what Lucy believed. Ona on the other hand, was crushing harder and harder on the English woman. The outfit Lucy wore today, a green suit with a white top, made Ona crazy. Maybe it was the fact that the top was tight enough to see Lucy’s abs bulging through the fabric, maybe it was the fact that the dark green matched her eyes and hair color perfectly. Or maybe it was everything of the above combined with the energy Lucy held, she was such a natural flirt, funny, fit and at the hen party Ona had seen she could dance.

After dinner people gathered at the bar ordering drinks as the music built up and within no time there was a pleasant atmosphere created. In various places in the room, groups of people were chatting happily.

Ona and Millie got their drinks and Ona insisted they headed to the dancefloor ‘’come on, if no one goes first there will go no one at all’’.

Lucy went to all the people she wanted to greet and she became completely distracted from the plan she had to meet Ona again after dinner, trying to have another chat with her.

After she had greeted everyone, there was being announced that they wanted to lift the brides to the middle of the dance floor for a first dance.

Lucy looked for Ona, trying to look for the beautiful blue suit she found her, Lucy took place opposite of her in the group that was going to lift Lucy S. Everyone helped carrying Lucy and Laura to the middle of the floor.

As everyone went on with the banter, Lucy looked at Ona. The beautiful, happy looking, freckled woman was stunning in her blue suit with her loose hair and the earrings, that was clapping with the music, smiling-

Demi poked Lucy in her side, interrupting her thoughts and whispered in her ear ‘’they’re dancing there Luce’’ she grinned ‘’you fancy her don’t you?’’.

Lucy looked up at her, still smiling, not yet processing what had been whispered at her until she saw Demi’s grin ‘’what? Oh- what no- I was just, I’m watching them dance’’. She cleared her throat as she turned her gaze to the middle of the dance floor.

Everyone was clapping and soon joined to dance as well.

‘’You should go for it, it seems mutual’’ Demi grinned as she danced away.

After a bit of dancing and contemplating, when Lucy saw Ona was standing by herself, she danced her way over to Ona. ‘’Hey’’ she said softly. ‘’Hey’’ Ona chuckled ‘’seems like we are simply not given time to speak properly, isn’t it?’’.

‘’Right!’’ Lucy sighed happily, happy that Ona felt exactly the same ‘’and I just had to greet everyone, cause its not often that I have the chance to speak to them’’.

‘’oh yeah, I hadn’t thought about that, sorry, you should probably catch up with them I’m-‘’

Lucy smiled ‘’no no, I did that, now I finally have time for you, I was looking forward to seeing you again actually’’.

‘’I was too’’ Ona said.

‘’we didn’t text eachother’’ Lucy stated.

‘’No, we didn’t text eachother’’ Ona repeated.

‘’Why?’’ Lucy asked out loud.

‘’You tell me’’

‘’I thought about it’’ Lucy confessed ‘’but I didn’t know if I read in to it’’.

Ona grinned ‘’read into what?’’

Lucy blushed ‘’I liked the conversation we had, but it could’ve also just been two people getting to know eachother’’.

‘’wasn’t it?’’

‘’oh- i- yeah it was, I just-‘’

‘’haha, I’m joking’’ Ona squeezed Lucy’s bicep ‘’I felt the same, didn’t want to come across as a weirdo texting you after knowing eachother such a short time’’.

‘’you would never be perceived as a weirdo’’ Lucy said honestly.

Ona frowned ‘’how can you say that, if you do something weird people think you’re a weirdo, that’s-

‘’pretty privilege’’ Lucy stated it as if it were just another fact.

Ona translated it in her head but couldn’t understand what Lucy meant, she laughed ‘’are you calling me pretty?’’.

‘’yeah’’ Lucy shuffled with her foot ‘’I’m sure you hear it everyday but it’s true’’.

‘’Everyday?!’’ Ona laughed ‘’no Lucy, and can I just remind you that you have only seen me at parties, were I have made an effort to look good, you should see me when I just woke up’’ she laughed at the thought.

That statement brought completely different thoughts into Lucy's head, she certainly wanted to see Ona when she had just woken up "No, you also look good in kit, even if you've been running for 90 minutes."

Ona's eyebrows shot up "have you been watching my games?".

Now it was Lucy’s time to laugh ‘’Yeah I watch a lot of games, I also analyze a lot of other defenders games’’.

‘’Oh yeah, ofcourse’’ Ona swallowed her excitement ‘’always room for improvement’’

‘’Right!’’

‘’I actually watched a lot of your games developing my style of play’’ Ona said carefully, not wanting to come across as a fangirl.

‘’reallyyy? That’s so nice to hear actually’’ Lucy gushed.

‘’yeah?’’

‘’yeah, I mean I had some older players I looked up too when I was still developing my style a lot, sometimes I watched games like 5 times, repeating their actions and then I’d reenact them at training or in games’’.

‘’Your not an older player’’ Ona said offended.

Lucy smiled broadly ‘’thanks, but you know I’m like eight years older then you right?’’.

‘’’pfffft’’ Ona waved her hand ‘’eight years, what’s eight years, I’m very mature anyways’’.

Lucy snickered ‘’football doesn’t care how mature or childish you are, if your body gets old you retire.. what were you talking about then?’’.

‘’Oh yeah, football, age, yeah retirement sucks, I just-

‘’am very mature?’’ Lucy grinned.

‘’yeah, and eight years is no problem for me’’ Ona said cheekily.

‘’Is this some weird way of flirting with me miss. Battle?’’ Lucy joked.

Ona leaned in and quietly asked ‘’how do you like to be flirted with then?’’.

‘’hmm’’ Lucy acted like she was thinking really hard ‘’probably maybe some dancing’’.

‘’oh yeah? Care for a dance?’’ Ona said as she offered her companion a hand.

Lucy took it and they went back to the more crowded part of the dance floor, next too the DJ booth.

As the evening went on they danced with eachother and with others, being pulled in to separate circles, forced to dance with others but gravitating to eachother the whole time. Ona tried to stay close to Lucy and the other way around, but everyone on the dance floor cheerful and excited that it was difficult.

At the end of the night the music slowed down Lucy took herself back to the Spaniard after getting two drinks from the bar ‘’you’re a very good dancer’’ she said in Ona’s ear, closing the distance between them.

Ona chuckled ‘’good enough to woo you?’’.

''Mhm, consider me wooed'' Lucy said seductively ''how about you, what does a woman have to do to get a chance''. Lucy put her glass down on a standing table and put her hands softly on Ona’s hips as they were swaying with the music.

Ona got nervous from the touch and the question, she felt her skin prickle under Lucy’s hands and her stomach fluttered. She liked the forwardness from the English woman, but she didn’t know what to say, honestly she just wanted to kiss the lips she had been sending looks at all night.

The smaller woman downed the glass of alcohol in one gulp and put it one the table next to Lucy’s.

‘’Want to go somewhere more quiet’’ Ona whispered to Lucy as she reached for the table.

The dark-haired woman walked after the Catalan, curious about where they would be going, as she didn’t really know the building, but maybe Ona did she thought.

Ona held a door open, when Lucy walked in she recognized the room as the parlor where the ceremony had taken place.

‘’I was wondering what was behind this curtain’’ Ona said as she stepped on the little stage at the end of the room. It was a big curtain, and as Ona got behind it she saw that the platform was way bigger then it seemed like from where they’d been sitting on the benches this afternoon.

She got her phone out to use the flashlight and searched for a light switch ‘’Lucy?’’

‘’Yeah right behind ya’’ Lucy said with a low voice, heavy from the adventure.

‘’D’you think this is a light switch?’’ Ona asked carefully.

‘’Guess there’s only one way- Lucy flipped the switch and held her breath. When a little spotlight went on she released her breath again ‘’to find out’’.

Ona chuckled as she put her phone away again ‘’very brave’’.

‘’Why, what’d you think would happen?’’ Lucy chuckled back.

‘’I don’t know maybe an alarm or something’’ Ona said with big eyes.

‘’God’’ Lucy groaned ‘’imagine the scene’’.

‘’Yeah’’ Ona said gently as she stepped closer to Lucy ‘’and we would’ve missed out on- she brushed against Lucy’s bottom lip softly ‘’this’’ she breathed out against Lucy’s mouth.

Lucy’s hands found themselves on Ona’s hips again, this time pulling her in closer. She leaned in to kiss the shorter woman. It started as a gentle kiss, the pair softly exploring each others taste.

Ona tried to deepen the kiss by cupping the back of Lucy neck, and getting on her tiptoes.

After a few minutes of the kiss that became more and more heated they were disturbed by a sound of giggles, familiar giggles.

They pulled apart and looked in each others eyes questioning, wandering if the other had heard it too.

‘’What was that?’’ Ona asked.

Lucy shrugged and wanted to continue, Ona obliged with her eyes still open and just as their lips met again the giggle sound was back.

‘’ew, now I’m creeped out’’ Ona said.

Lucy walked away from Ona and peeked behind the curtain, only to stare right at their friend who had taken place on the front row, all laughing now. Lucy quickly closed the curtain, as she got red in the face.

‘’what?’’ Ona asked, not understanding.

‘’Lucyyyy…. Onaaa….’’ Some person sitting in the room teased ‘’having fun?’’

‘’Ohh, fuck’’ Ona giggled.

Lucy groaned ‘’yeah, fuck, ehrm let’s just say we were looking for the bathroom?’’ she suggested in a whisper.

Ona agreed and was the first to step back in to the room, it was very awkward, as the few people, who she now could identify as Millie, Jill, Jordan and Demi, sat on the front row looking at the podium.

‘’Told ya’’ Demi laughed out loud ‘’that’s a tenner from everyone please’’.

Lucy had followed Ona and looked confused at her friends ‘’what’s this all about’’.

The four players laughed, Millie said ‘’why don’t you two tell us’’ she looked amused.

‘’Toilet’’ Ona muttered. Lucy helped her out ‘’yeah, we were looking for the toilets’’.

The players laughed even harder, Jordan was almost falling of her chair ‘’luce, dude, you have to see this video Jill took, so don’t embarrass yourself any further’’.

Lucy was confused and wanted to know what all the fuss was about, she gently put her hand on the small of Ona’s back and walked them to Jill, who was still laughing, to the point she was almost crying.

‘’Go on then, share your banter with us’’ Lucy said, having found her cool again, as she stood seriously across from the four giggling women.

She softly rubbed Ona’s back, trying to offer her some support as she waited on Jill to pull the video up.

The phone was turned to them, on it was a sight of the curtain, and shockingly to both Ona and Lucy, on the curtain there were very clear shadows portraying their heated kiss. The pair blushed hard, there was no denying it now, the light had betrayed them brutally.

Lucy stood there dumfounded ashamed to be caught by her friends like this ‘’what do you mean a tenner Demi, make fun of me for 30 bucks, please, i could've given you more to prevent all this’’.

Demi laughed ‘’Its not about the money’’ she snickered ‘’I saw the two of you leaving, and we were talking, then I said Lucy and Ona would be a cute couple, well’’ she looked at the other three women ‘’they agreed but they said that it wouldn’t happen, so then I said: I bet a tenner their together right now, and then we found you’’ she laughed again at the visual coming back in her mind.

The four women stood up and walked towards the door giggling.

Lucy groaned ‘’sorry Ona, they’re crazy’’.

Ona chuckled ‘’we probably shouldn’t have put the light on’’.

´´Allright we´ll leave the two of you alone´´ Jill said as the four players scattered back to the party.

Lucy and Ona stood there dumbfounded for a couple of seconds before Lucy broke the silence ´´God, you´re probably so embarrassed´´ she said as she kneaded her forehead.

Ona looked surprised at the older woman ´´huh, no why, I mean aren´t we both a little´´.

´´yeah but your so hot, and to be caught with me…´´ Lucy sighed ´´sorry i-‘’

‘’what no, no, what do you mean’’ Ona stepped closer to Lucy, reaching out to her hands ‘’I don’t know if I say this right but -I am the one punching?- right, that’s like how you say you are the hotter one?’’.

Lucy scoffed ‘’nah’’ but she got a blush on her face ‘’do you really think that? Have you seen yourself?’’.

‘’okay we’re both hot then’’ Ona laughed.

Lucy pulled the shorter woman closer smiling ‘’where were we?’’

‘’maybe lets go somewhere with a lock first?’’ the Spaniard joked as she leaned in for the kiss.

As the kiss deepened Lucy’s hands travelled to Ona’s but and pulled her closer against her, Ona’s hand, that was on Lucy’s stomach, was squished in between them, she chuckled in to Lucy mouth.

‘’hmm’’ Lucy said as she pulled away with a couple more pecks to Ona’s lips, lips that looked so kissable, she didn’t really want to stop ‘’maybe we should’’ she panted.

‘’Go to my room?’’ Ona asked softly after a gentle nip at Lucy´s bottom lip.

´´Oh shit´´ Lucy said as she remembered something ´´my suitcase is still at reception and I haven´t asked my room number and keycard yet..´´

Ona grinned ´´back to the party then, lets see how smoothly you can fix your shit´´.

´´Is that a challenge? Cause challenges come with rewards’’ Lucy challenged Ona back.

‘’Only if they’re done successfully’’

‘’watch me then’’.

Many people had already left, as it was already quite late, and most of the people who were still there had gathered at the bar.

They were saying goodbye or still wrapping up conversations.

Lucy and Ona mingled with the people for a while and then went to the reception.

There was a line at the reception with several people who also had to pick up their keycard.

''Ugh i love weddings, they're so cute'' Demi sighed to her partner. Her partner laughed ''yeah they're cute, and so obviously into eachother''.

Lucy and Ona didn't hear it, as they were already walking over to the elevator.

Coincidentally, their rooms were on the same floor, only Ona's was to the left and Lucy's was to the right.

The three people who had been in the elevator with them passed the couple who stood still in front of the elevator, hesitating.

"I think challenge completed pretty well" Ona smiled.

Lucy and Ona shared eye contact, the same eye contact that made them both forget the world around them. When the people entered their own rooms, they were brought back to reality by a door slamming shut.

Lucy cleared her throat, "eh, yeah, that was smooth, wasn't it?" She grinned, "I'm curious about the reward now."

-They were interupted by the elevator making some sounds, it was probably back downstairs with new people getting in.-

Ona took Lucy's hand and pulled her with to her room.

While Ona opened her room door, Lucy clicked the handle of her suitcase back inside.

They walked inside and Lucy left the suitcase in the hallway.

The room was semi-tidy, it was clear that someone had already slept there all night, but even the pajamas were neatly folded on the pillow.

Lucy asked ''just to be sure, you're not drunk now are you?''.

''drunk?'' Ona asked ''i mean i had a couple drinks but im not drunk no''.

''good, me neither'' Lucy said.

Ona laughed ''why?''

''don't want you to have regrets''

Ona laughed a little harder now ''ah, I thought you were going to say, 'don't want you to forget' ''. At that she mimicked Lucy with a thick English accent.

''wooow, is that how you think of me? think i've got a big ego'' Lucy fake gasped and clutched her chest.

''Nooo'' Ona quickly tried to clear up the misunderstanding ''no, i just wasn't thinking about regret at all, honestly i came to this wedding to see you again, and for the wedding itself ofcourse, but you know after the bachelorettes i have been-''. She stopped herself from blurting out more embarrassing truths.

Lucy laughed ''i was just kidding''. She stepped towards Ona and held her face with two hands ''but cute to know''.

Ona's cheeks heated up below Lucy's hands, but Lucy didn't pay attention to it, not wanting to embarrass the girl any further. She

She bent down and pressed her lips again against those beautiful, soft lips of Ona's, lips that now felt almost familiar.

She tasted her again, a taste Lucy wanted to taste more often. Lucy didn't know what was happening, it was as if she was under a spell by the Catalan. She hadn't been able to think about anything else than this exact moment all evening.

Lucy wanted to see more of Ona, to taste more of her, but she didn't want to be too pushy and wanted to make the shorter woman feel comfortable.

It was actually Ona who took things further, her hands pushing Lucy's jacket off her shoulders.

Lucy followed her lead after she dropped hers to the floor, she helped Ona get out of the blue jackter she was wearing.

''Your so beautiful'' Lucy mumbled below her breath, as she was stunned by the woman infront of her.

''Stop it'' Ona gushed.

That made Lucy look up ''are you sure about this, d'you want this?''.

Ona rolled her eyes ''Lucy stop second guessing, if somethings wrong i will tell you, i promise'' she smiled and softly asked ''or is it you that isn't sure about this?''.

''Im so sure'' Lucy was quick to ansewer, making Ona laugh.

The laugh turned into a squeal as Lucy picked up the smaller lady and carried her to the bed.

Lucy sat her down in front of the bed and took off her own shirt, she helped Ona with her top, who was fiddling with it for a while.

After both took down their pants, they now stood almost naked opposite each other.

While kissing, the English woman, who was now standing in her bra and briefs, pushed Ona against the mattress.

The Spaniard, who was only wearing thong, pulled Lucy along with her.

Lucy burried herself completely into Ona's neck, kissing and licking the skin below her mouth.

Ona got shy from how good it made her feel and covered her face with her hand ‘’luce’’ she whined.

‘’can I touch you?’’ Lucy asked as she pulled away to face Ona again.

Ona took her hand away and looked at Lucy questioning ‘’ofcourse you can touch me, what else were we going to do?’’ she said shyly but smiling.

Lucy smiled ‘’I just want you to be comfortable’’.

Ona sat up and took Lucy’s hands, she placed them on her boobs and said ‘’I’m really comfortable, Lucy I want to have sex with you’’.

Instinctively Lucy’s thumbs started caressing Ona’s nipples ‘’perfect’’ she groaned as she pushed Ona back on the bed.

They kissed passionately, Lucy’s tongue parted a way into Ona’s mouth. The Spaniard moaned as Lucy crawled further onto the bed, putting one thigh in between her legs.

Brushing soft kisses across Ona’s body Lucy travelled further south, Ona was already squirming under her mouth.

She pulled Ona a bit more to edge of the bed and hooked her fingers in the thong she was wearing

‘’can I take-

‘’yes’’

Lucy chuckled at the eagerness but took it off quickly, she held the younger woman’s hips as she kneeled down infront of the bed.

Ona put her legs on Lucy’s shoulders, Lucy graze her teeth along the insides of the Spaniards thighs, Ona shivered and gripped Lucy’s hair, forcing her to were she wanted the woman to be.

The older women groaned at the shameless desperateness, feeling how wet Ona was ‘’all for me baby?’’.

Ona groaned ‘’fuck, all for you Luce’’ she got even wetter from being called baby by the woman she was crushing on, imagining it could be more than a one night stand.

Lucy flattened her tongue against Ona, lapping at her taste ‘’mhhmyou taste so good’’ she groaned against Ona’s clit before gently sucking at it.

The shorter woman’s back arched up from the bed, Lucy grabbed her hips tighter.

''Lucy, more please'' Ona moaned as she shuddered below Lucy's tongue.

Lucy put her hand up to in between Ona's legs and gently teased her entrance with her middlefinger.

She felt Ona move forward and pushed in carefully, resulting in a moan from the woman below her.

''try to keep quiet for me babe'' Lucy whispered against Ona. The catalan bit her lower lip, because she agreed that no one needed to hear them, knowing that they were all acquaintances of Lucy and that she knew a number of people that slept on this floor herself.

With her mouth and her finger Lucy worked Ona closer towards her climax. When she introduced a second finger, it didn't take long for Ona to come undone.

All Ona's muscles tensed and after a swallowed moan, her whole body relaxed. Lucy who still had her fingers inside, carefully helping the younger woman through her orgasm, pulled her fingers out gently and brought them up to her mouth.

This came so unexpectedly for the Spaniard that she clenched her thighs at the erotic sight, a new wave of arousal hitting her.

Lucy leaned over to kiss her, Ona accepted the kiss eagerly, licking into the older womans mouth. Lucy moaned at the woman wanting to taste herself on her tongue.

The English woman's thigh came inbetween the Spaniards ones as the kiss got more heated. Lucy leaned deeper against Ona, hands traveling around on her body.

She smiled as she felt Ona rutting against her, searching for friction.

With a hand around Ona's, Lucy gently flipped the two. She directed the shorter woman's body so that she was sitting on one of lucy's legs.

''you look so good like this'' Lucy whispered.

Ona's cheeks got red once again this evening, but she had no words so she hid her face in Lucy neck as she continued grinding down on Lucy's thigh.

''fuck,.. use me Ona''

''you're doing so good''

''feels good using my leg to get off?''

Lucy talked Ona through it, feeling her nearing a second orgasm.

Ona couldn't think straight anymore, hearing the praise, feeling Lucy.

When Lucy gripped the Spaniards hips tighter, helping her grind down, Ona's orgasm crashed through her. She held herself up with nails diggin' into Lucy, she whined out into Lucy's neck.

After a bit Lucy carefully placed Ona besides her on the bed and covered her with gentle kisses. ''that was perfect''.

Ona blinked, a small smile appeared on her face ''mhmm, perfect''.

Lucy looked at the blissed out woman "Maybe you're perfect" Lucy asked herself but actually said it out loud.

Ona chuckled and pushed Lucy's face with her hand.

----

the end, pretty open ending but it was already such a long one.. 🙃

hope you enjoyed!

#lucy bronze smut #woso smut #woso fanfics #lucy bronze #ona batlle smut #lucy bronze x ona batlle #woso #ona batlle #lucy bronze x reader #woso imagine #fanfic

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stinkyturd · 4 months ago

Text

After Hours Request

Pairing: Jin Kamurai/You

Comments: Jin has gotta be in my top three favorite characters. Tsunderes have a special place in my heart, and I think that this guy has a huge soft spot for the protagonist. I know I'm setting up a lot of commitments for myself, but I wouldn't mind doing a part two for this one at some point. Enjoy!

A senseless distraction you were.

It was unfathomable how much you continued to preoccupy Jin's thoughts well after your departure from Frostheim. Locked away in his icy chambers, the captain found himself far too often reaching for his phone to check for your texts throughout the day. It wasn't as if the two of you were on that friendly of speaking terms.

Jin recently began to have subliminal urges to send you at least one or two texts throughout the day that would inadvertently force an interaction. Be it requests, demands with threatening connotations, or even inquiries about other houses-- Jin found a reason. If it were possible, Jin would write a substantial check to Darkwick in order to have a non-negotiable monopoly of your time.

The Frostheim Captain found himself becoming increasingly more impatient with the delays in your replies, or the lack of frequency in which you would agree to make an appearance at his doorstep. You always chalked it up to the Chancellor needing you elsewhere and it was really starting to infuriate him. Jin knows it's not inherently your decision, but that didn't stop him from being a tyrant about it.

Right now, Jin is watching the 'typing' bubble animate on the left side of your chat log. The Frostheim Captain had sent you a message, summoning your presence to help him sort through paperwork that wasn't that disorganized to begin with. In fact, Jin had messed up the filing cabinet intentionally to make it less suspicious that he asked for assistance in the first place. You weren't that dumb, and Jin knew you could eventually catch on to his antics if he didn't throw in a few precautionary measures here and there.

'Sorry, Jin! I can probably come later this evening, but I don't think it will be before 7pm! The Chancellor assigned a mission for me at Obscuary. They need me to drag Edward out for this one.' 10:24am

Jin clenches his jaw in irritation at the news. Of course, that bloodsucking piece of shit is the culprit. Just as he begins to brainstorm a reply, another text comes in from you.

'We can always reschedule for tomorrow! I think I'm supposed to help in Frostheim anyways, I'd have to double check with Cornelius, though.' 10:25am

Jin scoffs at your presumptuous message. You seriously thought you were going to weasel your way out of this one? Without hesitation, he cascades his fingers against the touch screen to type out a reply.

'No. It needs to be done by tonight, even if you have to pull an all-nighter. I expect you to be here at seven on the dot. If you fail to do so, anticipate consequences, brat.' 10:25am

The Frostheim Captain lays back on his couch, with his phone hovering over his face, as he waits for your reply. You could deny him, but Jin knew you wouldn't. Even if you weren't intimidated by his status and supernatural abilities, you did still owe him. Much to Jin's delight, you had clumsily shattered a vase a few weeks prior that was likely worth more than any home you had ever lived in. Now that you were indebted to him, you were in no position to reject him.

Sometimes things just fall perfectly into place.

'Yes, Master, your wish is my command

(｡・//ε//・｡)!' 10:26am

Jin's grip on his phone loosens as he reads the text you sent, and it collides painfully with the bridge of his nose. Sitting up abruptly, the Frostheim Captain clamps a hand over his face as he feels the blood rush to his head from your unpredictable string of words.

"Master...? What the fuck is wrong with her?"

At around 7:15pm, you arrive at Jin's doorstep. You begin to wonder if not showing up at all would have less repercussions than showing up fifteen minutes late. Sometimes you were five minutes late, but never fifteen.

When you had passed Tohma on your way to Jin's room just a minute or so ago, the vice-captain spared you a knowing and thoroughly amused glance. Jin had likely made a comment or two about your tardiness in passing.

So what? The mission had taken longer than you had planned, and you had to rush to even make it here at the time that you did. No matter how unreasonable Jin's deadlines were you just knew he wouldn't see it your way. You had hoped that Jin would be sleeping upon your arrival so you could lie and say you had been there since seven, but your luck would never permit such mercy.

Pushing out a deep sigh, you mentally prepare yourself before rapping the massive navy double doors that stood before you. Five times to be exact, as per Jin's instruction in the past.

A few seconds later your phone vibrates within your pocket. You pull it out and see a short text from Jin displayed in your notifications.

'It's open.' 7:16pm

Stowing the device away, you pull the door open and slip yourself inside.

Upon entry, you don't spot Jin. You cautiously take a few steps forward and look around the room. An end table that is staged in front of the teal couch that you frequently find Jin sprawled over has an ashtray placed in the center. In it, there's a smashed cigarette butt that's still venting small billows of smoke.

Maybe he's in the bathroom?

Whatever, you could just get a head start on that paperwork that he was bitching about. You make your way over to Jin's desk that's positioned by the right back corner of his room and open one of the drawers that you recalled him storing paperwork in. The cabinet's hanging folders were thrown off kilter in such a way that the papers inside were spilling into the bottom of the drawer-- some even thrown haphazardly on top of it all.

Did Jin just get bored and violently shake up the desk to make you materialize at his beck and call?

What a funny idea that would be. You couldn't complain much, you figure, as you begin pulling out the bin's contents and setting them on top of the desk. At least his pretty face would end up being the highlight of your day, even if it would inevitably be scowling at you the entire time. You take a seat at the desk in front of you and get to work sorting. It occurs to you pretty quickly that not all of the documents were dated, so you begin separating the unknowns into a different pile as you wait for Jin's arrival.

At some point during your rifling, an out of place square paper flies out from in between the stacks in front of you.

"Oops," You mutter absently, your eyes trailing to the sheet as it descends to the ground. A polaroid, you realize.

"What are you doing here?" The question mindlessly flows from your lips at the inanimate object as you lean down to nosily peer at the subject of the photo.

Much to your surprise, it was a photo of you and someone else. At first, you don't recognize the other subject, because the face of the person next to you had seemingly been burned with the tip of a cigarette. This was one of the photos Kaito had taken with you before when he was testing out his new camera.

How did Jin get this? And why is it here?

Suddenly, a blue slipper stomps over the photo laying on the ground in front of you. You gulp, not daring to look up right away.

"Haha... Jin, what a surprise. Where were you anyways?" Your voice comes out strained, as you have a sneaking suspicion you just saw something you shouldn't have.

"You show up late, then start digging through my shit without permission? It seems you've gotten too comfortable, honor student," Jin bites out icily.

"Well, ya see I thought I'd get a head start on the paperwork," You explain as you lift your head slowly. Unusual, he's wearing white? And what a strange material-- oh shit, oh god.

Jin is standing in front of you with just a towel wrapped around his waist. The Frostheim Captain's lithe torso is fully exposed and on display for your unprepared eyes to soak up. His white hair is still damp, some pieces clinging loosely to the contours of his pretty face that is now glowering at you with disdain.

To prevent yourself from the humiliation of becoming a stuttering mess, you shield your eyes with your hands before continuing to speak to him. "Um, so... yeah. Late? That's what we were talking about? Sorry, the mission took longer than I expected. Edward took way too many breaks."

Jin clicks his tongue, clearly not pleased with your answer. "Did you tell that bloodsucker that he was wasting my fucking time?"

"Ah, you know, that might have come up? I don't think he really cared, to be blunt about it."

"Looks like your next task will be in-depth research on how to snuff out an immortal." You hear Jin shift next to you.

"Right. So gracious of you to overlook my transgression. I'll do my best, Master." Your lips threaten to curl up at your second integration of the suggestive word that day.

Sometimes, messing with Jin subtly was kind of fun, if you could get away with it. And you only did it because he would so shamelessly refer to you as a servant! This was his comeuppance, as far as you were concerned.

Alas, much to your disappointment, your bait was swiftly ignored.

"...How long are you going to sit there with your hands over your face?"

"Until you put your clothes back on," You retort.

"How presumptuous," Jin drawls. "And if I don't feel like it? How do you plan to get any work done?"

What a stubborn ass, new tactic.

"Well... I guess I can. I can't make any promises that I won't ingrain your mostly naked, flawless, body into my memory and use it as a reference to paint on canvas later," You say, feigning a dejected voice.

Jin's footsteps walk somewhere off to the right, if your hearing serves you correctly. "You've been mouthing off quite a bit today. And who says you can just use my likeness without my permission?"

You're really making this too easy, Jin.

"...I could probably say the same thing. I don't think I've ever seen anyone keep a photo of me tucked in their drawer so secretively like that."

The Frostheim House is cold as hell, but you're pretty sure the temperature just hit below zero.

Jin's voice comes, "... Just what are you implying, brat?"

"Implying?" You chuckle nervously, beginning to regret your glib comment. "No implications here. Why do you have a photo of me, anyways?"

"None of your fucking business," Jin counters. The sound of a drawer rolling open enters your ear canal. Is he finally putting on clothes?

"Right, not my business..." You repeat, stifling a snicker.

"... Wipe that smirk off your face," Jin demands. You think you hear him put on clothing at this point.

"Right. Just give me a sec," You say, splaying both hands fully over your face to cover your grin that won't be going anywhere for a minute. "If it makes you feel any better, I will fully welcome a Jin portrait being hung up in my room."

Jin scoffs. "Shut up, idiot. Uncover your eyes."

Obediently, you do as he asks. You find the Frostheim Captain standing by the wardrobe near his bed wearing a pair of matching blue pajamas. It's almost envious how he can look so beautiful in something so casual.

"Hey, clothes! I don't think I've seen you not in formal clothing. You look nice," You praise him with ease.

Jin averts his gaze from you, not being one to take compliments easily. "Had you not been covering your eyes like a moron; you would have had the honor of choosing my outfit. Anyways, enough chatter. I summoned you here for a task."

"Right!" You pick up a folder and hastily resume your quest to organize Jin's paperwork. "I got this. I'll make you almost glad that I broke your fancy vase."

Jin smirks at that. Striding across the room, he picks up a box of cigarettes from an end table. Pulling one out, he places it between his lips and lights it.

"You're only putting a miniscule dent in the cost to make that up, you know," Jin remarks coolly as he takes a drag.

"That's okay," You reply as you sift through a stack of papers. "I think I'll be more disappointed when you run out of reasons to call me here. Call me crazy, but I actually like being around you."

"... Don't go saying dumb shit like that so easily," Jin chides, slumping onto the couch and out of view. "Wake me up when you're done."

"Sure thing... Master," You near whisper the last part to yourself with a snicker. If Jin heard you, he chose to ignore you.

You're not sure how long you've been messing with papers, but at some point, you begin to feel thoroughly exhausted. Pulling a few all-nighters this week to keep up with your studies, Darwick's requests, and Jin's demands must have been taking its toll. A yawn escapes you when you're on your last folder. Surely it wouldn't hurt to rest your eyes for just a split second?

Caving into your whims, you rest your head against your forearms.

Just for a second, you tell yourself as you drift off to sleep.

When you open your eyes again, you're lying on something soft and silky. The sudden change in your immediate surroundings alarms you enough to sit fully upright. The room is dark, save for the moonlight shining in from the grand windows against the back wall. In the distance, you spot an all too familiar piano.

A dead giveaway that you're in the Ice King's room.

Holding your breath, you shift your eyes to your right. Jin is lying there next to you, probably closer than he should, considering it's a king size bed. The Frostheim Captain appears to be fast asleep underneath the covers, laying on the side that's facing you.

How the hell did this happen without you waking up? Did Jin seriously carry you to the bed with him? You're not even wearing your shoes or jacket!

God his face is deceptively peaceful and pretty when he's asleep so defenseless like this. And as much as you'd love to cuddle up to this sleeping beauty for the night, you can't. Maybe in another lifetime, if you're lucky.

You're not sure why Jin didn't just wake you up and tell you to get the fuck out, but you're not planning on taking any risks. Carefully, you lean your weight towards the edge of the bed with the intention of escaping without a sound.

Without warning a hand grips your wrist.

"Bianerus."

Your body goes stiff. "...You're awake. I was just going to see myself out."

Jin narrows his eyes at you. "Tch... do you know what time it is? You're not going anywhere. Your stupid little cathedral is nearly a mile from here."

"I know my way around this place," You argue as you fight back a blush.

"Lay down," Jin commands.

Your body lays flat against the bed, of its own volition. "Okay, yes Master," You squeak out.

"And stop calling me that, idiot."

"Okay, Boss," You manage as you giggle awkwardly at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Jin rolls his eyes in irritation. "You're insufferable. Just call me Jin."

"Jin..." Daringly, you shift your eyes to meet Jin's icy blue ones. Your heart skips a beat, as he's about a foot away from your side.

"...Tohma never saw me leave."

"So?" Jin counters.

"Uh... he's definitely going to think something is going on," You warn him, your cheeks heating up.

Jin raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "What difference does it make?"

"Well... as long as he doesn't spread that information around, I guess not much. Your fangirls would probably eat me alive, if they thought..." You avert your gaze, far too mortified to finish the thought.

Jin sighs. "Tohma wouldn't and even if he did, I'd kick his ass."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it," You concede, albeit reluctantly. "... Of all the beds I could end up in, I gotta say I didn't think this would be on the list."

Jin's eye twitches, in annoyance, you think. Suddenly, he flips to face away from you.

"Should you find yourself in another bed, relay the name and House of the unfortunate owner to me," Jin grumbles.

You blink. "Huh...?"

"That's an order."

You're not sure exactly what Jin could mean by that, though there aren't too many conclusions you can draw from such a request. "... Is the owner unfortunate because it's with me, or for another reason?"

"Shut up. I'm going to sleep."

Your lips involuntarily clamp shut for the moment. It seems that he's still activating his stigma. No matter, you were persistent.

A few minutes pass. In that time, you hear vibrations against a surface from somewhere on Jin's side. Peeking over him, you spot your phone on the end table on his side.

Plugged in a charger, too? God, he's cute.

Your phone has been set to receive notifications for just texts, so you wonder if it's something important. Maybe if you're super duper careful you can reach for it without disturbing the slumbering ice king in front of you.

Making up your mind, you steel yourself and slowly move to reach over him.

"Tch, how many times must I say it? Lay down."

Stigma activated, you find yourself collapsing partially on top of Jin. Your left arm slumps over his torso and your face ends up buried in his hair.

Holy shit, you're basically spooning him.

"Uhm, l-look I wanna apologize, but you're quite literally forcing my hand on this one," You stutter out.

"If you listened the first time, this wouldn't have happened," Jin replies, calmly. The Frostheim Captain shows no intention of moving or forcing you off. If anything, you swear you feel him relax into the contact.

"R-Right... So, are you gonna stop using your stigma, so I can get off you?"

"No," Jin deadpans.

Hah... if this is a dream, you sure hope you don't wake up.

"Okay, yeah... I can work with that. I'll just… chill." Not that you had a choice. And since you don't, you take the opportunity to not so subtly sniff his hair.

Smells like sage and juniper. It's so soft, too.

"...Weirdo," Jin mutters. You're pretty sure the back of his ears are turning pink. What a fortuitous day this is.

"Sorry, you smell good. Just so you know, if you intend on sleeping like this, I may start to get the hots for you. Aren't you rich guys supposed to be thrown into arranged marriages? If that's the case, I'm sure your fiancée would be furious," You ramble like an idiot.

"... I have no such fiancée," Jin says simply.

You feel the effects of the stigma wear off as your body relaxes into him. If he really didn't want you to move, then wouldn't it be fine to properly cuddle him? Would that be too far?

Deciding that the pros outweigh the possible cons, you snake your arm properly over Jin's torso and bury your face into his shoulder. The Frostheim Captain shows no indication of rejecting the calculated advance.

Maybe it's fine to stay like this. At least for a little while.

Tomorrow this could be weird. But that's tomorrow's problem. Maybe Jin would just pretend like nothing happened and the two of you would never bring this up. Whatever the outcome would be, you'd live with it.

Before you know it, the warmth from Jin's body nestled against you lulls you to sleep.

By the time you had woken up in the morning, Jin was already gone. You had checked the time on your phone and noticed that you had gotten up pretty late. Late enough that you were most definitely going to miss your first period. Not wasting a beat, you bolted out the door to properly get ready at the cathedral.

It was now lunch time and Kaito had caught you just after your last class and requested you eat with him by Frostheim's stomping grounds with Lucas. Currently, you sat at a bench next to the two Frostheim students, with a bento box that you purchased from the school cafeteria in hand. Kaito was rambling about DIY projects that he was working on in his free time. You did your best to stay tuned in, but you couldn't stop thinking about the events of last night.

"I understand you're busy with crafts, Kaito, but you should try to join me on a mission sometime. It will reflect well on us at the end of the year if we just apply ourselves to even a few more," Lucas implores. Always persistent with his futile quest to get Kaito to do anything productive in relation to Anomalies, or Darkwick.

"Fuck that! You can do that shit yourself. Why would I risk my life trying to fight those monsters when I could be learning to do stuff that's actually gonna help me?" Kaito argues loudly, as usual. "It's not like my stigma is that badass anyways! You get it right, (Y/N)?"

You tear your eyes from your barely touched bento and relocate them to Kaito's disgruntled face. "... Sorry, what was that?"

Kaito huffs and scrunches up his nose. "This jerk is trying to drag me on a mission again! I'm gonna eat shit, so doing personally productive things is better anyways, right?"

You look at Lucas who's giving the blonde a tired look.

"Yeah... I get both of your sides, but I think if you're enjoying yourself it's not time wasted. By the way do you know what time it is?" You ask absently. "I realized about twenty minutes ago that I can't find my phone."

You really don't recall touching your phone since you woke up, which is concerning. And you had been so preoccupied with getting out of Jin's domain as fast as possible, there's a chance it's lying in the grass somewhere.

"Oh shit, for reals?" Kaito's agitated expression turns into a look of concern.

Lucas pulls out his phone to check the time. "It's 12:45 pm. When's the last time you saw it?"

"No clue. Was in a rush this morning," You explain vaguely.

"Want us to help you look for it?" Kaito asks, setting aside his lunch box.

"No, that's not necessary," You insist, chuckling weakly. "It could literally be anywhere."

"You could try retracing your steps," Lucas suggests with a sympathetic smile.

"Speaking of retracing steps..." Kaito starts as he regards you with skepticism. "Is it true that you were in the Frostheim dorms before class? Someone mentioned it in passing."

Fuck.

Why was everyone at this school such busy bodies? You hadn't even considered that anyone would notice, so you didn't prepare an excuse.

"Uh... I don't know. Maybe I was passing through?" You offer an explanation, though Kaito and Lucas don't look convinced.

"Passing through?" Lucas repeats, lifting an eyebrow. "Perhaps the student thought you were someone else. You don't pass Frostheim to get to the main campus from your dorm."

Kaito places a finger to his chin, confusion etched on his face. "I dunno, I think it was one of (Y/N)'s first period classmates. You sure you aren't seeing someone here?" The blonde furrows his brows in determination. "Cause, I'll warn you now, pretty much all of these Frostheim students are total losers. They don't deserve your company!"

Lucas rolls his eyes. "I think that statement is more of an unfair and biased conjecture."

Just when you were about to prepare a bullshit excuse, a voice came from behind you, nearly startling you out of your skin.

"Oi, you lose something?"

You feel a tap on your head. Slowly, you tilt your head upward to find Jin looming over you, with your phone in his hand.

"Oh..." You near whisper.

Shit, shit, shit…!

"I found it outside my room. You ran out so quickly this morning, I'm surprised you didn't face plant into the cement on your way out," Jin goads, smirking impishly.

"WUUUUAAAAAAAAAHH...?!?!" Kaito screeches in horror, shooting to his feet. His teal eyes flick back and forth fervently between you and the Frostheim Captain.

Lucas just blinks in surprise, likely drawing the same conclusion as Kaito.

Jin covers an ear with his palm in irritation. "Tch, you're too fucking loud."

Impervious to Jin's irritation, Kaito continues to keep his voice aggravatingly elevated. "Y-YOU G-GUYS A-ARE...?!"

Your face burns with embarrassment, and you wave your hands frantically in an attempt to refute the assumption. "N-no, seriously it's not--"

"And what if we are?" Jin challenges, smirking smugly.

"Jin...! What the hell are you doing?!" You protest.

All the blood seemingly drains from Kaito's face. He crosses his arms over his face, shaking his head vigorously. "NO, NO, NO, I DON'T APPROVE...!"

"Too bad, pipsqueak. I didn't ask for your approval," Jin taunts. The captain drops your phone into your lap, since you neglected to actually take it in your state of distress.

"Congrats, guys...!" Lucas chimes in, an awkward laugh spilling from his lips.

You bury your face in your hands. "What the actual fuck is happening right now...?"

Cool fingertips touch your shoulder. "Come see me after you're done with your classes. You didn't finish your chores yesterday, servant."

"Hah... yeah, yeah," You grumble in response.

Jin's hand departs from your form and you hear him walk away. After a few moments, you uncover your face to find your Frostheim friends looking at you like you grew another head.

"Uhm... context?" Lucas asks, his eyebrows tented.

"Why didn't you tell us you were dating the fucking ice king himself?!" Kaito demands, clearly not any less excitable from the revelation.

"Uh... I guess I didn't know I was."

#jin kamurai #tokyo debunker #fanfic #fan fiction #kaito fuji #lucas errant #reader insert #jin kamurai/reader

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eu-nicola · 9 months ago

Text

Strong Love - Enzo Vogrincic x Reader

summary: Enzo makes a bold decision to save his relationship after rumors of infidelity spread. warnings: without

from a request

You have been in London recording a film for a month now. You initially planned to travel with your boyfriend, Enzo. However, unforeseen circumstances kept him back in his home country, managing interviews for his new film and other commitments. Soon, your name flooded social media, not for your movie but due to a particular photo everyone was tagging you in.

It was Enzo with his ex-girlfriend, Sofia, seemingly happy and together on the streets at night. The moment you saw it, confusion and pain set in. You wanted to believe it was a mistake, but the evidence was there. Unable to gather the strength to confront him in person, you sent him a text message, desperately seeking an explanation.

On the other side, Enzo anxiously stared at his phone, feeling the tension building up as he contemplated your message. "I saw the photos, Enzo, and I need you to explain what's going on," your message read. The realization of the photo's error struck Enzo, and he feared you wouldn't believe him.

As you noticed his delayed response, you tried to focus on your work on the film set. A mix of emotions overwhelmed you, from surprise to anguish. The images of Enzo and Sofia haunted your thoughts, creating a knot of insecurity and sadness. While attempting to concentrate, you awaited the answers Enzo was willing to provide.

Enzo, understanding the gravity of the situation, desperately sought to explain. When you finally checked your phone, you saw his rushed messages justifying the encounter. Amidst the filming chaos, you struggled to concentrate and process the flood of notifications that made you feel powerless and hurt.

"Love, you need to know it wasn't what it seemed. I ran into Sofia on the street by chance, and we only talked for a moment. There were no hidden intentions, I promise."

"Sofia is part of the past; you are my present and future. I made a mistake not anticipating how it could affect you, and I take full responsibility. I am willing to do whatever it takes to fix this because you are the most important thing to me."

"I know the photos may seem compromising, but I'm being honest with you. It was an unexpected coincidence. I'm sorry; I love you."

You loved him, and you knew he was being honest, but it didn't ease the pain, especially considering Sofia's past harassment when you first started dating.

"Enzo, the photos are hard to ignore, but I appreciate your honesty. I need time to process it all. I'm hurt, but I want to believe in you. We need to talk when I return." There were still a few months left until your return, but if he was truly willing to fix things, you hoped he would understand and wait.

Enzo, feeling overwhelmed by the distance and the anxiety of waiting, made a bold decision after days of reflection. He decided he couldn't wait months to resolve things and was determined to fight for you.

Within a few days, without saying a word, Enzo arranged a flight to London. Landing in the bustling city, his heart pounded with nervousness about your unexpected reaction.

That same afternoon, a few hours before you finished filming, he appeared on the set, searching for you everywhere, asking everyone where you were, and the consistent response was, "in her dressing room." When he finally found your dressing room and knocked on the door, you opened it, thinking it would be anyone but him. Seeing him, you were completely surprised.

"Enzo, what are you doing here?" you asked, a mix of disbelief and excitement.

"I'm sorry; I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to see you, talk to you face to face. Explanations and apologies aren't enough through messages," he replied, determination in his eyes.

You were moved by the fact that he flew there just to see you, a mix of emotions overwhelmed you. He continued, "I made a mistake; I shouldn't have talked to her, and I'm willing to face the consequences. But I'm also willing to fight for us, to show with actions that this is what I want most in my life, that I love you."

After hours of conversation and shared tears, you forgave Enzo because you truly loved him and saw that each of his words was sincere. During that time, he stayed with you, and despite the rumors, you paid them no attention. Every day, you both seemed more in love than ever, and everyone noticed.

After some time, you returned home, and the return flight felt different; you were better, and you liked that. You didn't know how things would unfold, but something inside you told you that everything would be okay.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #enzo vogrincic x you #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 4 months ago

Note

Hiiii ms dilf lover! Love your writing, was wondering if you would write something about Miguel and an insecure reader. Some guys make fun of her stomach randomly in the street, and he stands up for her like the hero he isssss 🤭

hii!! thank you! sorry for the slight delay, I did tweak some things slightly hope that’s okay. I love things like this and ive missed him SO SO bad omg! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

OVERHEAR.

miguel o’hara x implied chubby fem!reader — comfort

word count. 1048

It’s often unusual for you to return to your shared apartment with a frown on your face, upset in your voice. Coming home to Miguel, you had no reason to be that way.

Though, that changed today.

You were out shopping earlier on, picking up some new pieces for the change in weather, until you stumbled upon a group of teens in the area you needed to get to. You waited, you were patient. You even looked at things you didn’t need so they didn’t feel rushed.

And then you heard those giggles, those little laughs and whispers telling you all you needed to know. You discreetly looked over to them, pretending you were scratching your shoulder as a means to see what they were laughing at.

Which is when you saw it, the smallish group of both boys and girls snickering and pointing and gesturing – all of them making fun of you.

Those little unkind acts were all that was needed to ruin your mood. You were already uncomfortable about shopping on your own as it was, and then they just obliterated any of the minimal amounts of joy you were feeling.

And so, you put all your things back and leave the store, pretending their words didn’t bother you – when in actuality, they were all you were thinking about. Their giggles and laughs repeat in your mind all the way home.

Pushing your keys into the lock, you quietly make your way inside, being mindful not to bring attention to yourself. To your sore, raw, saddened eyes.

There was no hiding from Miguel. He always knew when something was bothering you, especially now, and your face was all proof. He couldn’t see it, but he knew.

He looks over to you from the sofa, head twisted around as he watches you put your shoes away – never greeting him in your usual way. Never once uttering a word to him.

He takes a moment, waiting for you to turn around, to return his ‘hey,’ but you never do. You only walk down the hall and into your bedroom, blanking his concerns.

Miguel follows after you, and knocks on the ajar door – a small collection of rhythmic taps asking to enter.

“Cariño?” he stills, fist falling to his side. “Can I come in?” he asks, words gentle as he awaits your belated response.

You quickly sniffle, clearing your throat and wiping your eyes. “Yeah,” you reply, keeping your back to him as you pretend to busy yourself with the hangers in your closet.

He opens it slowly. His large, burly self lingering in the door frame as he watches you. “How was your day?” he questions, scoping you out. He was trying to warm you into opening up.

“Good,” you respond shortly, never once looking back at him – hiding your face. “Yours?”

He doesn’t reply, instead he makes his way over, tall frame almost towering over you from behind. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice warm.

You nod faintly, eyes welling with tears once more. That little question was all that was needed to set you off again. You choke on a small sob and shake your head ‘no.’

He’s hesitant as he reaches for your shoulders. He doesn’t want to give you more reason to push him away.

But that small act of warmth was enough to turn around, to open up to him. You wrap your arms around his middle and bury your face into him – wetting his sweatshirt with your teary eyes.

He’s patient, he doesn’t talk yet. As much as he wants to know what's bothering you, he waits. Letting you speak up in your own time. For now he only places a large hand on the back of your head, palm warm and gentle as he strokes over your hair – caressing and calming you.

“I had a bad day,” you admit, pausing to sniffle.

“What happened?” he hushes, holding your head carefully to him – protecting it.

“I was shopping,” you whisper, words muffling into him.

He backs away, peeling you from his chest to look at you – to hear you properly. He hums and nods, silently asking you to continue, his hand cupping your cheek as if to spur you on.

“And uhm,” you snake your head, trying to rid those feelings.

“Yeah,” he whispers, thumb grazing your cheek – pad flicking away the wetness from under your eyes.

“I overheard these kids— these teenagers, and they,” your lip wobbles as you recall the memory. “They were just really nasty.”

“What did they say?” he asks, speaking carefully.

“I don’t know exactly,” you close your eyes and shrug. “Making fun of my size– talking about my stomach. I don’t know, I didn’t hear all of it.”

And that’s when all softness leaves his eyes, all warmth being replaced by something far more rigid. He was pissed.

“What do they look like?” he questions, words pointed but his touch still remained tender. “What store, mami?”

“I don’t remember,” you lie. You knew why he was asking, what he was implying by those questions. “It doesn’t matter.”

And as much as you wanted to see those kids get their asses handed to them, you just needed him here more. Needed to have him with you instead.

He looks down at you, his gaze ever so slowly retreating to that same softness as before. Usually he would press you until he got the outcome he wanted, but that expression on your face told him all he needed to know – you didn’t need him to fight for you, but instead comfort you. So with a gentle understanding nod, he lets it go, thumb brushing over your sweet face as if to distract him from the protective frustrations he’s feeling.

“Don’t listen to what they say, querida,” he reassures, voice stern as if to reaffirm his words. “Kids are…”

“Dicks,” you laugh, choking on the last of your sob – residual snot creeping from your nose which you’re quick to wipe away.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, face lightening up as yours does. “Kids are dicks.”

One hand reaches down to your hip, large palm pawing at the squidge, the other staying on your cheek. “Hermosa,” he says, words soft as he looks down to your tummy between you. “Don’t change it.”

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x chubby reader #miguel o’hara comfort #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman

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literallydontknowdontcare · 1 year ago

Note

I’m literally BEGGING a Vanessa x fem!reader where Vanessa gets jelly and it ends up in rough/angry sex

You DO Own Me

Vanessa Shelly/Afton x Fem Reader

PLUS this request: “Can we get Vanessa fucking y/n roughly? Like pulling hair, biting neck and scratching back type of rough?”

a/n: yessir 😜 merged this request with another anon as they coincide… sorry for the delay in fics. I am still sick but that not my excuse: my excuse is I'm lazy lol. This may be shit, sorry ;')

Content/Warnings: Top/Rough Vanessa, Bottom sub reader, smut, choking, strap use [r receiving], rough sex, not proofread/edited, Vanessas kind of an asshole but that's hot

w/c: 2024

The ride home was silent. Well, not completely. Though Vanessa was extremely unimpressed, her lips pressed together and her hands gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white, you were having the time of your life. Under the influence of alcohol, you were giddy and chatty, oblivious to your girlfriend's simmering anger beside you.

“And I literally told Mike that he was insane for thinking those robots cut him in his sleep, but of COURSE he decided to ignore me and continued to take those pills. I mean, really? The poor man is half asleep most of the time!”, you huff, recalling your last shift. “What do you think?”, you turn to Vanessa, your half dazed, half-blushed face informing her that you really did have no idea that she was mad.

“Mm”, she replied, uninterested. You, again, didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. “I know! Maybe I should replace them with some melatonin gummies.. He probably wouldn’t notice”, you giggle, rolling down the front window to breathe. Fanning yourself, the alcohol making you overheated, you gaze at the stars outside in awe. The outdoors really does hit differently when you’re drunk. Unbeknownst to you, Vanessa was seconds from snapping. Pulling into the driveway of your shared home and parking her personal vehicle beside her cop car, she immediately stepped outside as soon as the gas turned off and slammed the door shut, ignoring your own door and walking to the front of the house. You frown, beginning to zone back in.

“Maybe she just forgot”, you think, in reference to her not racing to open your door or offering to carry you inside as she usually would. Stumbling out of the car, you follow behind her into the house. “Vanessa?”, you ask aloud, wondering where she disappeared to in the span of two seconds. Pausing, you try to listen for any footsteps around the house for any indication of her location. Nothing. “Vanessa? Baby?”, you repeat, concerned now. Half limping, you shrug off your jacket and kick off your heels, wandering around the house. Finally, in the corner of your eye, you see the upstairs office light getting turned on.

Sprinting up the stairs, going as fast as your tipsy body would allow you to, you head for the office. Before you could open the door you heard a mumbling sound. Cracking the door open, you witness your girlfriend pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance, talking to someone on the phone.

“Yes, yes. I understand. I just thought- no thank you. I’ll be alright. Sorry for the misunderstanding”, Vanessa answered someone on the line, grinding her teeth when she saw you enter. “Thank you. Have a good one”, she hung up the phone, turning away from you and leaning against the desk.

“Vanessa? What’s wrong?”, you whisper. She snorted.

“What? Now you notice?”, she spits, still not turning around.

You bit your lip, anxious at her reply. “What was the phone call about?”

“Work. Nothing for you to worry about”, she then laughs. “Not that you were, to begin with”. She leans over the desk, reaching for a pen and paper to jot something down, and you try to not let your mind race with thoughts of her rolling her hips forward as you can tell she needs comfort right now, not a horny girlfriend.

You walk towards her nervously. “Are you okay baby? You were fine in the car-”

She snaps at you. “No. I wasn’t. If you weren’t so lightweight you would know that”. Stillness filled the air, the only noise coming from the scribbles of the pen as Vanessa jotted down the information from the phone call.

Coming up behind her, you gently place your hand on the back of her arm. “Is this- is this about Mike?”, you watch her jaw clench from the side. Blinking in surprise, you reiterate. “It is? Isn’t it?”

“Drop it”, Vanessa scowls, shoving herself off the table. Your foggy brain couldn’t help but think ‘muscle memory’ with the way she practically ground against it in annoyance.

“Are you serious? He’s a respectful guy! His old crush means nothing”, you protest.

“Nothing? You make me sick”

“What do you want from me? For me to spit on him and never talk to him again?”, you snap, frustrated now.

She crosses her arms. “Preferably”, she snickers. She comes closer to you. “Or maybe you like the attention? Hm?”

You pull away, hurt. You’d like to believe she was drunk saying this, but she was completely sober. “Vanessa-”

“Poor you, huh? Do I not give you enough attention? Is my poor baby always so needy”, she mocked, snarling.

You blink away tears and begin to walk out of the office when you feel a gust of wind and a sudden thud against your back. Gasping, you slam into the wall, your head narrowly missing the collision. Before you could turn around, you felt Vanessa pin your hands behind your back, her cuffs clenching around your wrists and shutting with a loud ‘click’.

“What the fuck Van-FUCK”, your sentence gets cut off as you hear a loud smack; Vanessa had just hit your ass. You feel numb for a few seconds, and then everything after that. You whine out, trying to cover yourself as she grabs your cuffed wrists and pins them above your head, her other hand coming around your waist to arch your back towards her. “Always whining. Never taking what I give you”. She slaps you again, the force of her hand biting your skin, surely leaving red marks that would turn purple tomorrow. You bite your lip, pain, and pleasure fighting to take over your emotions. You settle on both and she digs into your scalp, raising you up to her. You whimper out as she turns your head to the side and begins to suck at the front of your neck. Your life flashes before your eyes; having to walk in tomorrow at Freddy’s, a hickey so prominent that any efforts to hide it with makeup make it look evening trashier, and Mike seeing exactly what she did to you. You never understood her anger when it came to Mike; she liked him well enough. You just were never allowed to talk to him, apparently.

“Vanessa, please”, you whisper as she bites the side of your neck, pain seeping in. Squirming, she finally releases you. You flop against the wall, breathing heavily as she stares you down.

“Look at you”, she hisses. Everything about Vanessa commanded respect. Not one part of her demonstrated sex except for her slightly flushed cheeks and large pupils. Her hair was perfectly in place, her shirt was properly ironed. You, on the other hand, were tied up, beaten, and most definitely not commanding respect. It was exactly how Vanessa liked it on days like this.

She leans forward, tangling her hands gently in your hair. She tugs on your strands gently, lulling you into a false sense of security as you close your eyes, content. You should have known it wouldn’t last. “Pathetic, you are”, she says. Suddenly, she drags you to the office desk, making you gasp out in pain, flinging your hands to hers in a poor attempt to release her grip. Shoving you over the desk, she had you right where she wanted you in the first place; bent over and tied. “What, you thought I was going to treat you?”, she laughs. You stutter, words being unable to properly form. “Nothing happened! You were there the whole time! Why am I being punished for your jealousy issues?”, you yell out as she begins to scratch your back deeply. Her nails dig into your skin, fire spreading everywhere you touch. Wailing and twitching in her grasp, you hear her from behind. “Stupid girl. So disappointing when you act out against me”, she taps on the handcuffs. “Are you forgetting who protects you? I can harm you instead if you want baby, just ask”. She pauses, waiting for your reply. Nothing.

She smiles. You can feel the cockiness being emitted without even seeing her. Instead, you intently stare at the table, wishing you were in bed right now instead of feeling the humiliation of your girlfriend lifting up your skirt to check your panties.

The cold table was a harsh polarity to your pussy; you hated how your pussy was throbbing faster than your heart. Vanessa hummed from behind you, clearly amused and proud of you. Leaning over you, the shape of her breasts being felt against your back despite her clothing, she whispers a soft “I love how much of a whore you are”, before standing back up and softly grinding her front against your bare ass. You widen your eyes as you feel something hard press against you. You love how hot and cold Vanessa can be. No matter how rough and angry she can get, she can never resist treating you first.

The sound of her unzipping her pants was as close as you were ever going to get to hearing church bells. Hell, even angels singing couldn’t replicate the sound of her strap slapping your pussy. Shutting your eyes, your brace yourself against the table, moaning as her cock dipped into your soft entrance.

“You think you deserve this?”, she asks, moving your hair back with her hands, a gesture she couldn’t help doing. Not when she knew you did nothing wrong.

You nod desperately, grinding your ass back into her strap, your pussies walls clenching around nothing in a desperate attempt for friction.

Vanessa stayed silent as she plunged her cock into your pussy. You, however, most definitely did not. Your screams filled the quaint neighbourhood as she thrusted into you at a brutal pace that didn’t account for your lack of adjustment. Your hands gripped anything on the table in sight, your body becoming simultaneously needy and overstimulated. “P-please Vanessa slow- oh FUCK yes-”, you cry out, conflicted with the pain.

She rakes her hands over your ass, switching between slapping your reddened cheeks and clawing at your lower back. Hearing her deep, ragged breaths, you knew she was close; the strap hit her clit at every thrust, making her let out lowly strained moans. “Van-”, you roll your eyes back, your vision turning white. She was hitting your gummy walls so right that it felt insane. Your arousal was streaming down the table and her legs, which Vanessa acknowledged by letting out a snort.

“Need to come, baby?”, she hummed. You whine, grinding back. You needed this release so badly; anything Vanessa had told you had already been forgiven.

“V- nessa I need to.. Please”, you bite your lip and squint your eyes, begging yourself to not release before she allowed you to do so. You couldn’t risk more punishment. She sighed as if thinking about it. She sped up the pace, pounding the strap in a way that made it ten times more pleasurable for her as it did for you.

As your fingers grabbed at the table, she let out the smallest whimper that made you go feral. You pleaded, over and over again, to come. You felt extremely betrayed and turned on as Vanessa slumped forward, her chest heaving from cumming quietly. “Oh y/n”, she moaned, “Cum now baby”, she snaked her arm around your waist to bring your ass up even higher as you came with a loud cry.

You let go of the table, your body now going limp. “Vanessa”, you sigh, unable to move. Despite your comfortable position, consisting of you flopping across the table and Vanessa holding you loosely with her strap still half inside of you, she pulls out and forcefully slips you over way too soon for your brain. The pleasure was turning into pain again, and you hiss as your ass makes contact with the table, the marks making it unbearable.

“Don’t think this is over”, she murmurs as you pull her closer.

You look at her, confused.

“It’s only 1 am. If you think I’m done with you, you are sorely mistaken”

#five nights at freddys #fnaf vanessa #fnaf movie #fnaf vanessa x reader #vanessa shelly #vanessa monroe #vanessa shelly x reader #vanny #elizabeth lail #fnaf au #vanessa x reader #vanessa afton #fnaf vanny #fnaf #mike schmidt

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back2bluesidex · 1 year ago

Text

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 1 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: lots of crying, reader is broken, she is suffering so bad, a flashback explicit sex scene, big-dick Jungkook, kind of size kink, he hits it from behind, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, Jung Hoseok enters the scene, he is so attractive that you might faint, subtle and flirty Hoseok, an adorable little girl, Namjoon makes an appearance.

It's not really mentioned but just so you know, Hoseok and reader has a slight age gap like 5 years. (which is not at all an age gap to me because my first boyfriend was 8 years older than me. haha. you didn't just read that.)

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First chapter is here. I wrote 4k+ words for a single fic and that's unbelievable. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it's worth the wait.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:-

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“Reaching in 10 minutes”

That’s what Jungkook texted you half an hour ago.

It’s nothing new. He has always been late to your every date, every plan, every meetup. What is new is the lack of explanations and excuses following his delayed arrivals. He only apologizes and you hardly hear any sincerity in his atonements.

You sigh, staring out of the huge window of the private cabin.

Jungkook can’t meet you at your (supposed to be shared) home due to his “privacy” issues. So, you had to reserve this private cabin of an over-expensive continental restaurant. It’s funny how all of these feel so formal. It feels as if you are meeting one of your wealthy clients and not your boyfriend. This is how far Jungkook has drifted from you.

Your feet bounce on the floor, reminding you that you are indeed very nervous.

It’s a “leap of faith” situation for you today. If it works out then everything will start afresh, if it doesn’t… you will have to fall and break without having any idea on how to mend yourself.

“Sorry. I’m late.” Jungkook’s muffled voice rings behind your ear.

You were so lost in your thoughts, or fear, that you didn’t even hear him entering the cabin.

He heads towards the seat opposite of yours, without any further greetings, any kiss or even a hug… not even a single glance.

“As if it’s the first time.” you scoff. Jungkook chuckles nervously, removing his mask and snapback.

“Let’s order something. Heard their soy sauce chicken is a hit-”

“Y/N, I can’t stay for long. Can you make it quick?” Jungkook cuts off your words. His tone is so curt, so foreign that you doubt if it’s actually him underneath his skin or not.

“Jungkook… What's wrong? Why are you making things so formal? For fuck’s sake it’s me. Your so-called girlfriend.” Your voice quivers but you scream nonetheless.

“Y/N! Quit being dramatic and lower your voice. We are not at home.” Jungkook hisses, teeth gritting, eyes narrowing.

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?” you reply with the same ferocity.

Jungkook closes his eyes and rubs his face with both of his palms. Taking a sharp inhale, he says, “Can you please tell me why we are here? I don’t think you called me all the way here just so we can fight?”

You roll your eyes, less in sarcasm, more in an attempt to make your tears disappear.

You sit straight as if being prepared for the sword that is going to pierce through your heart, “Jungkook, do you.. do you love me?”

Jungkook visibly stiffens. His eyes go wide as if someone has asked him to jump off of the building. You see him collecting himself and clearing his throat only to lie, “O-Of course I do. But suddenly why?”

Even though you want to believe his words, you know those are as hollow as his eyes and maybe his heart as well.

“Then..” you pause, reaching for your purse. Pulling out the pitch black velvet box, you look at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide again, filled with horror and confusion. He probably knows what you are doing and he does not seem to be the least bit happy.

You stand up from your seat and round the table to reach Jungkook, “don’t you think it’s the high time we get engaged? It’s been three years since we started dating, our families approve of each other and” you pause, being unsure of whether you should say it, “and we have always wanted a future together.” You open the box for him to see, a tight-lipped smile lingers on your face only to punctuate your proposal.

Jungkook looks up at you with his big, doe, mystical eyes and then looks down on the ring you have spent a fortune on. Your heart hammers in your chest, but it is not the flattering kind. Your heart races in a fear that you are not ready to face yet.

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks away from you. He plays with his fingers and avoids any kind of eye contact with you. You stand there like a doll made of steel, staring at him holding the ring.

“Y/N. This is not- I can’t. I mean, this is so sudden. I am at the peak of my career and I can’t think of getting engaged or married at this point of life.” he runs a hand though his dark hair out of frustration, “Why are you rushing everything like this?” Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on the table, not on you.

“Because I am afraid, Jungkook. I am afraid you might leave me behind if I don’t try to hold onto you now.” you finally let your tears fall. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth.

Jungkook whips his head towards you and then stands up slowly. He holds you by your arms and opens his mouth to say something, “Y/N. I-”

“But I guess it’s too late now. You were long gone. You were gone far before the day you were seen with her. I should have understood Jungkook. I should have…” you run out of breath but still continue, “now please answer me honestly, you love her. Don’t you?”

Jungkook starts avoiding your eyes again. His grip on your arms loosens and you somehow know the answer already.

“I never cheated on you, Y/N. I never lied to you.” He offers with eyes shut tightly.

“But you never told me the full truth either.” your voice comes out weak.

Jungkook remains silent for a while and then he continues with a frail voice, “That night. I mean, the photo that went viral, I was sending her back to her hotel. She flew all the way to the States to confess to me.” This is a new revelation to you, since you never really demanded any explanation from him. Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to face the truth. Rather you decided to try one last time. And that is what brings you here, defeated and rejected with a truck load of pain burdening you down.

“And? What did you say?” you press on, being determined to end your suffering today even if it means you will have to return home with a broken relationship and a broken heart.

“Nothing.” Jungkook gulps.

“You could not say no because you feel the same and you could not say yes because you still had me, is that right?” You know you awfully sound like you are in a session with one of your patients but you don’t care. You need to get to the root of this unbearable pain and cut it off for once and for all.

Jungkook nods. Even though his eyes are hidden from yours, you know, those are full of guilt and shame but not a single speck of love and affection for you.

You close your eyes, let the tears fall unbound, shut the box tight and take two steps back from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

“I know this is a stupid question but I- I’m just confirming” another sob leaves your mouth unintentionally, “do you want to break up? With me?”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. He is probably finding a way to say yes without having to hurt you more than you can bear.

“Y/N..” he murmurs. This is most likely the last time you are hearing him call you by your name.

“Jungkook, please, just yes or no.” You take another step away from him.

“Yes.” Jungkook breathes out. His eyes are still shut tight.

Even though you knew what his answer would be, it still hurts much more than it did in your imagination.

You feel as if your head is underwater, you can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. You need to be saved but the person you want to reach out to is the same person who pushed you into this unfathomable water.

Your vision gets blurry with tears again, you can’t see Jungkook anymore. And you guess it’s better that way.

“Okay. That's all I think. That’s all for our three years of history. I hope you lead a happier life from now on. Goodbye….. Jungkook.” and with that you left without waiting for him to say anything. You left him and a part of yourself with him.

You are again sitting at your dining table, holding your phone tightly in your hand. You are again re-reading a headline just like you did a month and two days ago. You are again trying not to cry but you are failing miserably.

“Calvin Kline fame Jeon Jungkook confirms the rumors by kissing rumored girlfriend actress Han Jiwon at a club downtown - The agency is yet to provide a statement.”

It's cruel, how you have to wake up exactly at 7 in the morning despite crying for the better part of the night.

It's even more cruel, how your vacation application (which you have been pursuing for more than a week now) was declined harshly because there's a "priority client" and you, arguably the most competent child psychologist of the clinic, have to take over the case.

You reach for your phone and turn off the alarm.

Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling blankly. It's been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook at the restaurant. It's been two weeks since your relationship came to an end. And it's been four months since you are sleeping on your own but you still crave for his warmth beside you.

Love can be a funny thing. At one moment it's fulfilling you, injecting your heart with a sickening sweetness and at another one it's ripping off your urge to continue living, it's stuffing you with insecurity and self doubts that you hardly knew the existence of.

You wonder what Jungkook is doing now. Is he sleeping by himself or is he waking up beside Jiwon? Is he kissing her shoulders softly like he used to do to you or is he hovering above her, spreading her legs and inserting his large shaft inside.

Your thoughts are shaken off with the vibrating sound of your phone.

It's Miseon. The receptionist of The Mindscope ( the clinic you work for) and probably the only person you can call a friend in this entire world.

"Morning." You greet.

"Hey. Heard that your application was declined?" Miseon chrips from the other side of the line.

"Yeah. For some priority clients. Kim asshole Namjoon will be deep-fried in burning oil in a giant ass frying pan in hell." You grumble.

"So you are coming back to work today I guess."

"Yes I have to."

"Will you be okay tho?" You can hear concern in your friend's voice. She's the only person apart from your family to know about your and Jungkook's relationship. So, she called you immediately after seeing the tabloids twelve days ago. You cried on her shoulder when she visited you.

"Yeah. I guess. I have to start doing the actual work anyway. My eyes are in pain for the prolonged hours I spent staring at Microsoft Word for these two weeks. Ugh. Now I hate documentation even more."

Miseon chuckles, “Okay, see you at the clinic then.”

“Yeah. see you.”

You drag yourself out of the bed and head towards the washroom. If this is a new start, then you better accept it.

As soon as the warm soothing water touches your body, memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with despair in the process.

“Jungkook… I’m gonna get late” you whine, head tilting back with pleasure.

Jungkook’s hand snakes around your waist, fingers reach for your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Five minutes won’t hurt, baby.” he whispers in your ear as his index and middle finger draw slow circles on your wet clit.

His other hand teases one of your wet nipples, twisting and tugging it as harshly as he wants.

A pool of slick gushes out of your hole making jungkook groan at the feeling. He dips his middle finger in your hole and collects some of your wetness, he then uses that to rub more smooth circles on your clit.

You choke on thin air, moaning his name again and again you start to roll your hip on his naked cock.

His giant cock fits perfectly along your ass crack, as if it was made to fit inside you.

You roll your hips harder to elicit a reaction from your boyfriend.

“Such a dirty girl, huh? All for me.” Jungkook’s husky voice pierce through your sober mind and you find yourself dazed with love and pleasure.

Jungkook increases the pace of his fingers and you get more and more wet each passing second.

“Kook.. I- I need you.” you manage to breathe out.

“Don’t be vague, Y/N. Tell me what you exactly need.” Jungkook replies smugly.

“I need your giant cock to ruin my pussy, daddy.” you reply, squeezing the tit that has been deprived of your boyfriend’s attention.

“Whatever my baby says.” and with that jungkook slips inside you in one go. You barely get any chance to adjust because he starts moving right away.

He fucks you slow. His fingers never stop teasing your clit and soon you two reach your climax. He fills you with his cum and you coat his cock with yours.

“Let’s get cleaned now, hm?” Jungkook places a kiss on your shoulder as he turns on the shower.

Your back slides down the shower wall. You shake violently as loud sobs leave your throat one after another.

“You are so cruel, Jungkook. You are so fucking cruel.” you scream. Your throat hurts but your heart hurts even more.

You should have read the signs. When he kept on talking about Jiwon, aka his new friend from the agency, you should have perceived that shine in his eyes.

You should have confronted him more when he said he would have a drink with her after his shoot.

You should have asked his whereabouts when he ignored your calls and texts because he visited her in one of her drama sets.

You should have done a lot of things but most importantly, you should have loved him a little less and loved yourself a little more.

Counselee Information: - Name: Jung Sua Age: 7 (seven) Gender: Female (F) Guardian: Jung Hoseok Relationship with the guardian: Father of the counselee Reasons behind seeking help: 1. Changes in behavior 2. Quieter and more reserved than before 3. Frequent nightmares 4. Mild panic attacks

“So, what do you think?” Namjoon questions, leaning on the plush chair, placed at the end of your table.

“Nothing complicated. You could have handled it yourself. There was absolutely no need of rejecting my vacation applications again and again.” you spat, being very unimpressed with the dimpled smirk on your boss’ face.

“Oh my god. What’s wrong?” he dramatically leans forward. Placing a hand on his chest, Namjoon continues, “I thought you will be in a better mood after two weeks of work from home. But you seem even more annoyed than before.”

“For your information, I asked for a damn holiday not work from home aka prolonged hours of documentation. I really need some time off, Namjoon. I am not kidding.” Your voice sounds so defeated that Namjoon has to sit straight.

A serious expression takes over his features as he replies, “I know, Y/N. You are definitely not the type to take leaves for fun. But I am helpless here. The client has asked for you personally. He has done his own research and concluded that you can help his daughter better than everyone else in this clinic. I could not do anything.”

You nod understanding his point of view.

You are always more than ready to help these little, innocent souls out. It pains you to see these babies experiencing something as horrific as panic attacks.

But this time you need therapy more than anyone else under your radar. Even though your exterior doesn’t show the unbearable pain your interior is going through, you still need some solace. You are really unwilling to work at this moment and you doubt if you can help anyone else when you are not mentally fit yourself.

But you hardly have a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you will get a chance of distracting yourself from Jungkook's thoughts. Maybe you will be able to take a breather. Maybe you will heal in the process. Maybe?

“The appointment is at 11 am, right?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you.

“Yes,” he answers.

“It’s 10:49 already. Get out and let me prepare myself.” you mutter, closing your eyes and leaning back on your chair.

“Okay okay. Don’t be so aggressive.” Namjoon chuckles before leaving you alone in the cabin.

You go through Jung Sua's records once more to verify if there's a health condition you should be aware of. But there isn't anything.

Just when you close the file, a knock rings on the cabin door.

You sit straight. Ready to welcome a new friend.

Yuna, your assistant, knocks once more before pushing the door slowly. She walks in first and then holds the door open for the guests.

And the cutest seven years old, you have ever seen, walks inside. She's so small that she can be easily mistaken for a five year old. Her chubby cheeks and immaculately done pigtails makes her look like a doll.

You almost coo at the sight.

Even though you mostly work with kids, for the past year you were working with only teenagers. It's been long since you had the pleasure to serve yourself for a kid less than ten years old, let alone a seven year one.

"Hello there, Miss Sua. How are you doing?" You say in a jovial voice, trudging towards the baby.

Sua tenses a bit and looks behind her, looking for shelter from her father. He stands right behind Sua, offering her to hold one of his hands. Sua takes that readily.

You come forward and sit on your knees to maintain an eye level with your new friend.

"Don't worry. I'm your new friend. My name is Y/N." You offer her your hand. She hesitates a bit and then looks at her father for confirmation.

You follow her cue and tilt your head up to take a look at the father of your counselee.

Only if you weren't the embodiment of damsel of distress these days, you could very well have a love at first sight.

The man flaunts a pair of incredibly beautiful yet intimidating eyes, a chiseled jaw that can cut you into pieces, perfectly styled dark hair that falls on his face, and a pair of heart shaped lips which enhances the overall beauty of his face. The fitted dress pants and the black dress shirt give hints of the lithe, well-structured body that lies inside.

He smiles at you, you do the same. And then you feel a softer, smaller hand wrapping up your fingertips lightly.

Her cuteness makes you giggle.

You stand up, taking her hand on yours, you start walking towards a cozier corner of your cabin, where you usually counsel kids. Her father follows you closely behind.

There's a small and round glass table along with three chairs. One is meant for you and two others are meant for the counselees and their guardians.

You turn towards Sua’s father. Smiling a little and you say “You need to take the seat first, so that she can be assured it is safe here.”

“Sure” he replies. His voice is smooth and light, a contrast to his dark and manly features.

He sits down on the bigger chair and pats on the smaller one, “come on Sua, com ‘ere.”

Sua leaves your hand and wiggles towards her dad. She easily plops down on her seat.

“Yuna, can you prepare the game room please?” You ask your assistant.

“Sure, Y/N” She says before closing the door as you get comfortable in your own chair.

Sua regards you with her big, round doe eyes. She looks at you so intensely as if you have grown two horns in your head.

You chuckle a bit, “Sua, don’t you like your new friend? Don’t you like me?”

Sua stays silent.

“Sua is very friendly. I am sure she will like Y/N very soon. Isn’t it, baby?” Sua’s father chimes in, squeezing one of her little hands with his bigger, rougher ones.

You are so accustomed to your patients and their guardians to address you as “doctor”, that you had to take a moment after your name rolled out of Mr. Jung’s mouth.

The change is welcomed anyway.

You divert your eyes from Sua to him, only to find him smiling at you warmly. You mirror his smile. His smile is so damn gorgeous that you can’t help but feel contaminated with it.

“Sua, what do you like to play the most?” you focus on Sua again.

“Mario kart” she replies briefly, staring down at her feet.

“Okay. That's a great game. But what would you like to play outside? For example with your classmates during lunchtime?” You place your next question.

“My classmates don’t play with me.” She was quick with her answer.

Your smile drops instantly and you already start mapping out all the possible sources of the issues she is facing.

Nodding to yourself in understanding, you proceed, “Okay, let’s not talk about games anymore. You tell me what you like more, oranges or mangoes?”

“Mangoes.” she replies.

“Okay” standing up from your seat, you walk towards your table and call Yuna. She comes within a few seconds.

You instruct her to take Sua to the game room and treat her to some delicious mango juice. Even though Sua hesitates for a bit, her father’s encouragement works really well.

As soon as Sua leaves the room, you find yourself quite nervous under the intimidating gaze of Mr. Jung.

This setting is nothing new. You have been into one-on-one conversations with your counselees’ parents for more times than you can count. But none of them were as young and attractive as Mr. Jung.

You inhale a long breath before continuing, “so, Mr. Jung, since when did you start noticing these changes in Sua?”

“Almost a month ago. I can’t pinpoint an exact date but she has gradually become very quiet over this last month. She used to be very chatty. She used to tell me every little thing in detail about her day, her friends, what she had for lunch, what colors she used in drawings and so on. Now-a-days her answers have become vague and insignificant.” Mr. Jung sighs.

“Hmm. and the nightmares?” you ask, scribbling on the ipad.

“Around the same time. She woke up at 2 in the morning, ran to my room crying and breathing heavily. She didn’t tell me what it was about but kept on saying she was afraid. The same thing happened two more times.” He completes.

“Umm. The next question might be a little personal but the information is required for future counsellings. I ask for your understanding.” you sit straight. He nods.

“You said she came running to you when she had nightmares. Hence, I assume you were alone in the room. What about Sua’s mother?”

“I am a single dad, Doctor. Sua’s mother and I were in a casual relationship when she conceived with Sua unexpectedly. Both of us were just starting our careers so it was tough for us to think of getting married. On the top of that we didn’t like each other enough to proceed with that option. So, we decided to co-parent. But…” he pauses, takes in a long breath and then continues, “she disappeared after giving birth. She left a note behind as an apology, saying that she is not ready to be a mother, asking me not to contact her anymore. My mother and sister helped me in raising Sua so beautifully. They are the only ones to become something close to a mother figure for her. That’s all.”

You feel something warm flooding in your chest. You don’t know what it is, it can be respect, can be sympathy, can be even admiration for this man who you don’t even know properly.

A genuine smile takes over your face as you mutter, “You have done a great job Mr. Jung. You have raised a beautiful daughter all by yourself. You have worked hard.”

Mr, Jung’s dark eyes flood with some emotions you can’t quite name. He stares at you intensely, so much so that you feel he is reading you inside out. You can’t help but stare back at him.

“Call me Hoseok. So that I can call you by your name too. Is that okay, Y/N?” his voice is deeper than earlier, his smile is lopsided, more like a smirk.

You find yourself easily smiling along with him, something that has been quite tough for you to do for the past few months.

“Sure. Hoseok.” Your reply comes out without any further thought.

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo

#bts angst #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #hoseok scenarios #jhope angst #jhope smut

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aliensupastar · 1 year ago

Text

i wouldn’t ask you

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You try to break your promise. Carmy won’t let you. Follow-up to “shouldn’t feel like a crime”

Part I Part II

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food issues, heart-to hearts, arguments, swearing

A/N: once again, thank y'all so much for the love on parts one and two of this fic, it brings me so much joy!! also, im terribly sorry for how long it took to write this. school happened and i think it got away from me a little bit, i did a lot of rewrites, and it's shorter than i'd like it to be but it’s something i’m finally satisfied with, and i hope you guys enjoy it! to anyone who’s sent me asks, left comments or replies telling me they connected with this fic, i hope it continues to bring you comfort as it has for me. i can’t express to you enough how much all your responses have meant to me. this will be the last part for this lil series, but im grateful to anyone who’s read n supported it. title insp by "i wouldn’t ask you" by clairo, gif by riickgrimes <3

Logically, you know that healing — if that’s what you could call what you were trying to do — isn’t linear. You’ve heard it a thousand times, and on some level, you know it’s true. Knowing it doesn’t stop the shame you feel when you start skipping the train, opting instead to walk, or on shittier days, run to work.

At first you thought you’d been able to escape the anxiety that came with eating anything you didn’t know the exact calorie count of, that you’d been able to eat Carmy’s spaghetti without complication. In retrospect, it had merely been delayed, the calm and warmth afforded to you by Carmy’s presence wearing off as soon as you’d gotten into bed that night; you’d laid awake for another hour, paralyzed by your own panic.

The only solution you found fit was to force yourself into physical activity, making your travel to and from work ten times more miserable, waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual just to get to the restaurant on time and still have ten minutes to freshen up and change into your uniform. You at least managed to make the change in your routine go unnoticed, still looking presentable once it was time to open for service, or at least you thought so.

“Did you run here?” Sydney asks one morning, spotting you right as you clocked in and rushed to your locker to pull out your uniform.

“Uh, yeah, I did.” You’re a little too breathless to come up with an excuse, to properly deflect her concern and surprise.

“Okay…” She watches as you shove your other belongings into the locker space haphazardly. “Does that, like, happen often, or-“

“No,” You say, too quickly, shaking your head. “Just, uh, don’t tell Carmy?”

You look up at her, eyes pleading, hoping she accepts this one request without question, hoping she can disregard something just this one time.

“Tell Carmy what?” Hearing your boss’s voice makes you jump in shock, as he comes around the corner and spots you, hair messy and sweat still dripping down your temple.

Your skill for being unnoticeable is escaping you, that much is clear. You’re essentially caught red-handed, a deer in headlights, eyes bouncing between Sydney and Carmy as you struggle to come up with something, anything to respond with. But Sydney swoops in just seconds after you freeze, granting you mercy, this one time.

“Tell you to mind your own business, chef,” She says, her tone light-hearted so that you know to force out a laugh, and Carmy takes it. He gives a half-smile and shakes his head, heading over to his prep station and as soon as he’s out of sight, you look back at Sydney.

“Thank you,” You whisper as you head for the bathroom, uniform in hand, and she nods, still looking concerned but thankfully, dropping it.

Carmy’s the one who won’t drop it. It stays on his mind all day, even after you’ve changed clothes and fixed your hair and erased any trace of the mess you looked that morning; every free moment he has, he spends thinking of you.

He wants to believe that you’d simply missed your train. An innocent, easy mistake. But the way you avoid meeting his eyes during service hours, no matter how many times he tries to get your attention, or get you to just look at him and confirm that you’re okay, tells him it’s more than that.

He rushes through closing duties that night, just to make sure he’s good to leave before you finish closing up the front with Richie. He waits, sits in his office chair pretending to be busy until he sees you heading for the lockers, ready to clock out, and then moves to lean as casually as possible against the doorway.

“You want a ride home?” He asks, interrupting you as you pull clothes out from the locker; the clothes you were wearing this morning, he realizes, a sweatshirt and biker shorts. Like you expect to break a sweat on the way home, too.

“Nope. Thank you, chef, I’m good.” You barely even look over at him as you say it, and Carmy has to stop himself from making a face, making his displeasure visible.

“I really don’t mind,” He tries again, but you just close your locker door and shake your head, ready — and desperate — to change out of your uniform in the bathroom before it’s time to lock up. You put on what you hope is an easy smile, but it comes off tense.

“I’m okay, Carm, really. It’s not like it’s raining-“

“Chef,” He interrupts you, suddenly stern. “C’mon.”

He nods his head motioning for you to follow him, and it’s clear from his tone that there will be no room to argue.

You trail behind him while he locks up, and on the way out to his car, you can feel that frustration building up inside you again. The same resentment and irritation you felt in the hospital, when he wouldn’t take your bullshit excuses in the same way that nurse or your other coworkers would, it rises and rises till you’re gripping your backpack strap a little too tight and shutting the car door a little too hard.

You’re grateful, at the very least, that he says nothing when tears start to spill out and down your face as he drives you home.

You sit in silence for a minute when Carmy pulls into your building’s parking lot. You can’t bring yourself to leave at first, part of you still craving to savor his presence for as long as you can, even if the other part of you is too angry to even look at him.

“You wanna talk?” He asks quietly.

“Nope.” His question is enough to set you off, pushing the car door open and furiously wiping away your tears as you haul yourself out.

Logically, Carmy knows it might be best to leave you alone for tonight. Let you calm down and attempt reconciliation tomorrow morning. Knowing it doesn’t stop the feeling that he can’t just leave you alone, and let you walk away upset.

“Hey,” He calls out, opening his own door and moving to follow you. “C’mon-“

“Fuck you, Carmen.” You spit out.

He’s undeterred, even if you don’t turn back to face him once, refusing to acknowledge him tailing you the entire way up to your apartment.

You don’t tell him to leave you alone, to stop following you, to fuck off. You don’t even slam your front door in his face like he half-expects you to. Instead it hangs open as you storm into your living room, a silent invitation. An invitation Carmy doesn’t hesitate to accept, stepping through your door and carefully closing it behind him.

He’s still wracking his brain on what to say, clueless on how to stop the tears flowing down your face as you toss your backpack down and meekly lower yourself to sit on the floor between your couch and the coffee table, knees pulled into your chest.

“Will you just fuckin’ talk to me?” He finds himself pleading with you again after a minute, but his helplessness in the face of your distress makes his words come out callous, and you just scoff.

“Don’t be a dickhead, Carmy.”

“I’m a dickhead? I-I’m the dickhead, for giving a fuck?” You lift your head to glare at him, and you can see that he wants to match your anger; all the tell-tale signs of an upcoming screaming match appearing in his features, scrunching up his face as he repeats your words back to you, and you know you’re not being fair. You promised him you’d let him in, allow him to help stop you from going off the deep end again, and yet you’re the one resisting him. You wish he’d let the frustration on his face overtake him, walk out your door and leave you alone with your mind.

He doesn’t, no matter how much you will him to. His eyes meet your own, filled with misplaced ire, and all he does is lean his head back and sigh, running a hand over his face and forcing himself to curtail the urge to give in to your bait.

“You don’t wanna talk, I’ll talk,” He starts tentatively, before saying maybe the last thing you’d expect: “I’m sorry.”

Your narrowed eyes widen, the contempt in them turning to pure shock, but he barely notices.

“I didn’t mean to- if I went too far, the other day, with the spaghetti. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I’m sorry.” The absolute sincerity in his voice as he apologizes for something you know isn’t on him — it’s too much.

You’d love to pass the blame off on somebody else. If you could find a single other person to hold accountable for causing the near-constant state of discomfort that you’ve been stuck in for weeks, the distress of living in your own body, you think you’d jump at the chance. But you can’t bring yourself to do it to the one person who’s offered to take the fault away from you, because even now, after you’ve lashed out at him, he’s deliberately gentle with you.

You can see Carmy is ready to move towards your front door, you’ve sat here for too long without giving him a response, weeping silently. And maybe that would be the right thing to do after breaking your promise, letting him worry over you till he thinks he’s the one who owes you an apology. But selfishly, you reach up and grasp his arm before he can even turn to leave, gently tugging him down to sit with you, and he lets you.

“I’m sorry,” You start once he’s settled next to you, your voice still thick with tears. “I know what we talked about in the hospital. I haven’t been- I fucked all that up, I know, I’m sorry.” He’s shaking his head, looking like he wants to refute you, but you continue on.

“I just… I’m so fucking scared,” You nearly choke on your words, but it’s a relief to get them out, and suddenly you can’t stop the rest from spilling from your mouth. “I’m scared of getting better. I can’t stand the thought of it, I don’t even- I don’t know what I’d be for, if I wasn’t like this all the time. And it’s fucking embarrassing. That’s all I feel, all the time, just- constant fear, and shame. I can’t fucking stop myself.”

You take a pause, doing your best to breathe deep and avoid Carmy’s intent gaze, so you don’t lose your nerve.

“We were good, for a bit, and I wasn’t so… out of control. But then I fucked it, and I-I couldn’t just, tell you. Felt like, for once there was someone who understood, and I just wanted to keep the rest of it out of sight, I guess.”

It’s the most you’ve expressed to anyone about this. You think maybe you’ve gone too far, that maybe now you’ll have alienated the one person you’ve been honest with in years. But when you finally look up at Carmy, he’s nodding thoughtfully, no trace of judgment or pity in his expression.

“I don’t.” He says carefully. “I don’t really understand. I-I don’t think I could, uh-” He pauses, clasping one hand over the other tightly, like it pains him to force his words out, too. “I guess, growin’ up, food was basically a love language. It was how I bonded with Mikey, it’s why I wanted to do this job in the first place. So, to avoid food… I don’t think I can imagine what that’s like.”

All you can do is nod. You shouldn’t have made him listen to you vent your emotions, you should’ve let him walk out your door-

“But, I’d like to try. If that’s what you want.” He says, interrupting your spiral. “I just need to know you’re safe. Shutting me out like this – it’s bullshit. I’m not gonna just- stop caring. Even if it’s ugly. Just don’t shut me out.”

His earnestness practically shoots you in the chest, filling you with that warm, familiar feeling that usually comes with his presence. You want to push against it, you haven’t earned it back, it’s too damn much.

“Even if I… end up in the hospital again?” You say, trying to keep your tone light, but you can’t keep the pleading out of your voice.

“I’d drive you to the hospital a hundred times.” Carmy replies, completely genuine, and now you can’t push back against the urge to throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

You don’t know how long you sit there, on the hard floors of your living room, arms tight around each other, breathing together. All you know is that you don’t want him to leave; he makes no move to go.

a few people asked to be tagged on this part, so here you go! @rexorangecouny @moonlight-sonata99 @kpopgirlbtssvt

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto angst #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #hurt/comfort #angst #my writing #the shrimp that fried that rice

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fairydvsts-blog · 1 year ago

Note

i loved “i could fuck you better” sm! 🥵 reading the part where she begs rafe to finish in her without protection made me wonder, could u maybe write something for ex!rafe getting reader pregnant? 🤫

𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞

Rafe Cameron x ex!fem!reader

obx masterlist

summary; your relationship with Rafe hangs by a thread, but a mistake will forever bind you together

warnings; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex, unexpected pregnancy, some angst but fluff in the end

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Sorry for the delay, I'm a slow writer :(. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for your request!! ❤️

When Sarah had invited you to her birthday party, the last thing you expected was to end up in Rafe's bed... Once again.

You two had broken up a few weeks ago for the hundredth time, and you had been ignoring him since the break up because you knew it was likely you would get back with him if you didn't.

And he didn't deserve it after what he had done.

But that night he was acting very different from how he usually acted: kind, sweet, caring. You hadn't seen him snorting any coke and he had even apologised for being a jerk —which was almost unthinkable coming from him—, causing you to soften in no time.

Before you knew it, you were naked under his dreamy body.

He was pounding into you hard, your bodies were covered in sweat and you couldn't help but moan with every thrust, each one of them hitting your g-spot. His hands were everywhere, touching and caressing every part of your body almost like he was worshipping you.

"I've missed you so much, baby," he whispered while he grabbed your neck to bring your face closer so he could kiss you, taking your breath away.

His tongue slipped between your lips and you moaned, closing your eyes and pulling his hair so hard that he groaned in your mouth. You used your legs to push his hips rougher against yours and you swore you felt the tip of his dick rubbing your cervix.

"Have you missed me?" he asked when you didn't reply, desperate to hear an answer.

He grabbed your left thigh, hard enough to bruise, and he placed your leg over his shoulder, heightening your pleasure. You cried out and hold onto his biceps with so much force that your gel nails dug into his tanned skin. You tried to give him an answer, but that new position was clouding all your senses and you weren't capable of putting words together; you had lost count of how many times you had come thanks to his fingers and his dirty mouth, but you could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm again.

"Are you gonna answer or should I stop, baby?" he insisted, slowing down his movements.

"No, no, please, I'm so close, Rafe," you begged him as you ground your hips to try and get yourself off.

"Have you missed me or not?" He pushed your body against the mattress so you couldn't move and stopped thrusting.

"Rafe..." you stuttered, looking at him with pleading eyes, but he didn't budge.

"Yes or no? It's an easy question, baby." He placed his thumb right over your clit, rubbing it at a torturing but very pleasing pace.

"Yes, I've missed you so much," you finally recognised, whimpering and biting your lip because of his actions.

He smirked, clearly satisfied with your answer, before he started pounding into you again, faster this time. He kept touching your clit with his fingers, making your eyes roll back, and you tried to match his pace the best you could. Soon, you were standing on the edge of the cliff, ready to jump off it.

"I'm going to cum," you told him, grabbing his hand to encourage him to rub your clitoris faster, and he complied.

"Me too, baby." His breathing was heavy while he started letting out more and more moans as seconds passed.

You stroked his belly, feeling his abs contract under your fingertips, and his thrusts became sloppier. You knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but neither were you, so you tightened your muscles around his cock and he groaned aloud; his raspy voice caressing your ears. With one last touch on your clit you came hard, trembling under him and moaning so loud that you were sure people on the first floor could hear you.

"Oh, fuck yes."

Your climax triggered his; Rafe cried out a bunch of curses while he fucked you through your orgasm and his own. You were so lost in the moment that you didn't even realise he was not wearing a condom. Three weeks later, though, when your didn't get your period, you became aware of your enormous mistake.

You sat on your bed, shaking and holding the pregnancy test in one hand, your phone in the other. It was positive, you were pregnant, but you were so scared of Rafe's reaction to that information that you didn't dare to tell him. You started crying your eyes out, not knowing what to do.

Should you tell Rafe?

Should you tell your parents first?

Should you keep it a secret and have an abortion?

You were too damn young to be a mother and you weren't ready for a responsibility like that, but it didn't seem fair to Rafe that you made that decision without being honest with him about the situation first; he deserved to know, even if you weren't together anymore.

You hadn't talk with him since your last encounter at Sarah's party given that you went back to ignore him as soon as you had left the house the morning after. He, on the other hand, was being more persistent than ever, blowing your phone with calls and messages every day.

That time, it was you who called, and it took him less than thirty seconds to pick up his phone.

"Baby, I'm so glad that you called." He sounded relieved to hear form you.

"We have to talk, Rafe," you simply said, struggling to contain your emotions that were all over the place.

Now at least you knew the reason behind all of your recent mood swings.

"See you in five." He hung up the phone.

As he promised, he was ringing your bell five minutes later. You opened the door, your eyes clearly puffy due to all the crying, and he frowned when he noticed, hugging you almost immediately.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asked, concerned.

He carried you inside, sitting on the couch and motioning you to sit on his lap. You did so, crying inconsolably on his shoulder as he whispered reassuring things to your ear throughout. He didn't pressure you to tell him what was going on; he just waited till you were ready to talk.

"We fucked up, Rafe," you said when you had calmed down, turning to look him in the eyes, "I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened when he heard you, his mouth dropping open because of the news, and it took him a few minutes to overcome the shock.

"Say something, please," you asked, feeling your eyes starting to water again.

Your heart was hammering in your chest; you were terrified. What were you supposed to do if he didn't support you in the most difficult moment of your life? For you, that would mean the end of your relationship forever.

Thankfully, that did not happen.

He just put his arms around you one more time and said, "Baby, whatever decision you make, I'm here for you, okay? I'll always be there for you when you need me, because I love you with all my heart."

For the first time since you had met him, you felt truly safe in his arms and you knew right away: he was the one, your one. It was pointless to try to stay away form him; you were his and he was yours and the universe would always conspire to bring you together, because you were meant to be.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

Clean Cut 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live with your tyrannical aunt and meet a man who can relate to your familial dejection.

Characters: Thor

This is a spinoff of Dirty Work

Note: I feel as if someone is crushing my uterus between two stones so needless to say today is gonna be the wooooorst. But hope y’all are well.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Thor loves thunder. Take care. 💖

The door of the bakery swings open before you can reach it. You stand back, given pause in the same moment by the ding of your phone. You keep the ringer on, knowing better than to miss a single message. You know who it is before you even look at the screen. There is only one person it could be.

‘How long?’ Aunt Bonnie’s message is terse and to the point. You can hear her usual rigid tone through the text.

You step back, out of the way of other pedestrians, and key in your reply. ‘At the bakery now.’

You don’t expect a response. She’d be disappointed if you were pulling into the driveway. The message alone tells you that you’re already late, even if you’re well ahead of schedule.

You tuck your phone into your pocket and reach for the long bar across the bakery door. Before you can grip it, another hand wraps around the tarnished metal. You once more shy away as the tall man pulls open the door and stands back.

“After you,” his deep timbre insists.

You nod, chin straight, and thank him politely as you enter. You join the queue, your delay having you further back than you could’ve been. The bakery is even warmer than outside and adds to the sweat speckling along your nape. You tug at your high collar, not the best choice at the height of spring. Summer will be there soon and you don’t expect the stiff fabric will be any more forgiving.

The man lines up behind you. Your mind reels with doubt. Should you offer him your spot? He did hold the door and technically would have been ahead of you. You sway in indecision; caught between what is proper and appeasing your aunt as quickly as you can. What’s a few more minutes?

You turn and look up at the man as he rubs his eye socket and winces. You gasp at the sight of him, surprised by the purplish splotch that darkens nearly half his face. And the way he stands; as tall as he is, he hunches in one shoulder, his hand falling to cradle his ribs.

“Oh my, what happened?” You ask before you can censor your curiosity. You pucker your lips guilty then flatten them to an apologetic smile, “sorry, I...”

He clears his throat and shakes his head, “no matter, I am quite a mess.” He looks down at himself and shrugs, flinching as it no doubt pains his battered body. “I suppose you might chalk it up to a sibling rivalry.”

You bat your lashes and nod, not sure of his meaning. You peer side to side, then back to him, recalling your original intent. You lift your chin to look up at him. He’s very big and blond and burly.

“Um, I thought maybe... you were ahead of me,” you explain, “I’ve taken your spot, sir.”

He considers you, eyes narrowing as his head tilts. He keeps his hand against his ribs and coughs, “nah, it is no issue. It’s only right to let a lady go first. My mother always said so.”

“Oh, lady?” You echo in surprise, “I...” you look down at yourself. You’ve never been called a lady before, “thank you.”

He hums and you turn back to move along with the queue. He shuffles behind you, looming. People don’t often notice you. It could be your clothing; plain, straight cut, muted, nothing special, just like you. As with anything in your life, you have only what Aunt Bonnie allows you to have.

“The strawberry tarts are good,” the man suggests and you glance up over your shoulder at him, “pardon again, lady, I cannot read the specials board.”

His left eye is swollen amid the blackened bruising. Another pang of sympathy tweaks in your chest. You look back to the count and read the small chalkboard by the till; “Earl Grey cookie, two for three, or apple blossoms, half off with a full pie or dozen muffins.”

“Ah, think I’ll stick with the usual,” he mutters. “Do you have a favourite?”

You’re surprised, and most unprepared, for his continued conversation. You dab your forehead with the back of your hand then drop it to tug at your stiff cuff. You push your shoulders up and rock back and forth, still facing the counter, “only here to grab an order for my aunt.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. Very helpful of you. She must appreciate that,” he remarks.

“Mm, yeah, I... try to help,” you answer and pick at your sleeve.

“It is good to keep family close,” he exhales sonorously, “you never know...” he trails off and hisses. You peek back again as he daintily touches his cheek. “My mother loves this bakery but suppose she would throw anything I got her in my face these days.”

You don’t know what to say. He looks worse for wear and sounds just as bad. Whatever happened can’t have been very nice.

“I’m sorry,” you say, uncertain what other comfort you can offer the stranger.

“Ah, but you know what they say,” he smiles bitterly, his cheek twitching, though you cannot tell if it is borne of pain or spite, “Walpurgisnacht is a new beginning. With it comes great change, eh?”

“Walpurgisnacht?” You repeat, “yes, I... I suppose so...”

“Did you not celebrate?” He wonders.

You shake your head. You were not invited. That isn’t very unusual. You spent the night cleaning and when all was spotless, you hid in your room with a book.

“Ah, I had it that everyone attended,” he says, “my mother did make sure to invite all within the county.”

His mother? Your Aunt Bonnie mentioned that Frigga Odinson was sure to send an invitation to every household within a radius. She could not help but rant about the event, more envious than excited. You never went to any of the Odinson affairs, you were never included, though you never paid much mind to the fact.

“Your mother is Frigga?” You ask as the customer ahead of you walks away with their order.

“So she is, if she would still call herself as much,” he sniffs.

“Pardon, sorry,” you apologise and scurry up to the counter, not wanting to make the clerk wait, “hi, er, I have an order number.”

You unlock your phone, your notes app is already open with your list of to-dos. You read out the code and the man goes to retrieve the cake. You wait anxiously, bouncing on your heels. When he returns, you pay with the exact amount in cash as your aunt counted out and thank him.

You take the box and turn, nearly colliding with the tall blond man. You move aside, penned in by those waiting for their order and the queue of new arrivals. He pays and sidles along close to you.

“Party?” He asks as he looks at the box in your hands.

“My cousin’s birthday,” you explain and look up at the clock on the wall, “I should go...”

“Yes, you should. As I said, family is very important,” he insists glumly and looks around, “Oi, the lady needs through,” he says to the man crowding you from your other side, “move aside then.”

The man looks over sharply but his glare dissolves quickly as he sees who bosses him around. He backs up enough for you to get through. The stranger, an Odinson as he claims, follows.

“Before you go, lady,” he says, “might I have your name?”

You turn back to him. You remember your aunt talking about Walpurgisnacht with your cousins. She said there was some trouble but you didn’t hear much more than that. She always caught you listening in so you do your best not to.

You give your name as you connect the pieces, “and you’re Thor Odinson?”

“You know me,” he smiles.

“My cousins spoke of you. They were at Walpurgisnacht.”

“Mm, a pity you were not,” he drawls as his lips curve slightly.

“It was nice meeting you but I should go now,” you look over your shoulder, “my aunt is waiting on me.”

“Better hurry then,” he says, “perhaps we might run into one another again.”

“Er, maybe,” you agree thinly. It isn’t likely. You don’t go very many places, not without permission. “I hope things get better for you. Oh and I read that witch hazel works for bruises but I never tried it.”

“Witch hazel?” He repeats and touches his split brow, “I shall try it. Thank you.”

You turn to go and feel his gaze clinging to you. Thor Odinson. You’ve heard of him, as you’ve heard of the rest of his family. His mother has appeared at your aunt’s brunches on occasion and his father’s name is spoken often by your uncle. What you know is that they’re rich and that your aunt resents everything about them. You guess it’s why she tries so hard to be like them.

All that doesn’t matter then. What matters is that you get home with the cake and everything else or you’ll spoil the whole party. Regardless, Aunt Bonnie will surely find some mistake to needle away at.

🫧

You place the box on the counter as Aunt Bonnie orders around the chef. You don’t know why she didn’t have them also do the cake but you don’t dare ask. Before you can flee, she turns and catches you mid-step. She snaps her fingers and you stay.

She goes to the deep box and lifts the lid. Her sigh fills you with dread. Her lashes flutter in exasperation and you frown. What is it now?

“Are you serious right now? I asked for blush, not rose. Harriet will hate it.” She snarls and balls her fists as she tilts her face to the ceiling. “I told you to check. Have I not been working myself ragged to make today the absolute perfect day for my little girl? Hm, do you hate your cousin so much?”

“No, Aunt Bonnie, I’m sorry. I did check. In the car. I thought--”

“You have a poor eye. Or perhaps you are just like your mother. She always was jealous, she did all she could to sabotage me. She even pawned you off on me,” she sneers.

You lower your eyes, “I can go back.”

“And what do you think they would redo it for free? You left the store. I’ve dealt with those bakers before and they are a stingy lot. That Frigga swears by them and yet every time I go, I am disappointed.” She scoffs and wipes her hands. “Never to worry, I shall make sure at least that my part is adequate. Mm,” she pauses, “perhaps I am should not be disappointed in them. They’ve an excuse for their mistakes.”

The look she gives you scalds. You stare at the shining tile floor. “Can I help--”

“Yes, go set the table? Are you daft?”

You acquiesce promptly. You take a tray to gather up the appropriate cutlery, you’ll be sure to fetch some of the monogrammed napkins as well to compliment the arrangement. The fine porcelain would be in order.

“Make certain you polish it first,” Bonnie snips as you pass her by.

“Yes, Aunt Bonnie,” you recite.

“Yes, Aunt Bonnie,” she mocks derisively and waves you off as she turns to the chef. “Is that how you’re doing the lobster rolls? Those are going to fall apart.”

That you are not the only one she reprimands hardly makes you feel better. You only feel bad for the chef. That’s the sixth chef she’s hired this year. The others have quit, along with several maids and even the gardener. You don’t have that choice. She’s family and you owe her.

You rest the tray on a chair and go to grab a cloth to give a cursory wipe to the table. Then, you spread an ivory table cloth over the dark wood and smooth it out. With your canvas laid, you fetch the polish and a new cloth and polish each piece of silver before arranging it.

As you make your way around the table, the smell of the polish making your head pound and your nose sting, your Aunt Bonnie stomps through the door. She has a vase of tall flowers in hand. She tuts and stops short, her nostrils rounding.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? I said the blush cloth. To match the icing, thought it will not now. And--”

She marches over and hugs the crystal vase to her side with one arm. She picks up a spoon, “there is a speck on this one. Are you so disrespectful? Are you doing this on purpose? Do you know who is coming to dinner?”

“I’m sorry, Aunt--”

“Your apologies mean nothing. Do better. I will not have you ending up like your mother. I wonder how we are even related,” she sniffs down her nose at you. “I want Frigga to see her reflection in each piece.” She throws the spoon at you and it hits your chin before you catch it.

“Frigga? Odinson?” You sputter before you can censor yourself.

“Huh? And what does it matter to you?” She plunks the vase down heavily so the water sloshes onto the cloth. “You won’t be meeting her. I can’t risk that humiliation.”

She turns her chin up and struts away. You turn to look at the sodden fabric around the base of the crystal and frown. You should be happy to avoid the whole event. The few times you were included, it was only to pour the wine.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #series #au #marvel #mcu #avengers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #clean cut #sequel #spinoff

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nayziiz · 7 months ago

Text

Lost & Found | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x OC (Genevieve)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

As Oscar approached the sleek, modern apartment building in the heart of Monaco, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement mixed with a hint of uncertainty. The Mediterranean breeze brushed against his skin, carrying with it the promise of a memorable evening with his teammate, Lando.

However, as he reached the entrance, Oscar's anticipation wavered when he checked his phone and noticed the lack of response from Lando. Perhaps he got caught up in something, he thought, brushing off the initial sense of disappointment. Determined to salvage the evening, Oscar decided to take matters into his own hands and head straight up to Lando's apartment.

As he stepped into the building's lavish lobby, Oscar's mind raced, trying to recall the apartment number that Lando had mentioned in passing. Was it 402 or 204? He cursed himself for not paying closer attention during their previous conversations. Nevertheless, he pressed on, hoping his memory wouldn't fail him now.

The elevator ride felt interminable as Oscar anxiously tapped his foot, mentally rehearsing different scenarios for the evening. Finally, the doors slid open, revealing a corridor adorned with elegant artwork and polished marble floors. With each step, Oscar's heartbeat quickened, the anticipation mingling with a growing sense of trepidation.

Stopping in front of a row of identical doors, Oscar hesitated. Should he knock on each one until he found Lando's apartment, risking embarrassment and awkward encounters with strangers? Or should he retreat and wait for Lando to respond, clinging to the hope that their plans weren't entirely dashed?

In the end, Oscar decided to trust his instincts and rely on his memory, however flawed it might be. Taking a deep breath, he approached the nearest door and tentatively pressed the doorbell, steeling himself for whatever lay on the other side.

Relief flooded through Oscar as the door opened to reveal a friendly young woman. Her warm smile offered reassurance amidst his uncertainty.

“Hi, I'm looking for Lando?” Oscar ventured, his Australian accent lending a casual tone to his inquiry.

“Norris?” the woman asked, her eyes bright with recognition.

“Uh, yeah,” Oscar confirmed, his spirits lifting at the mention of his friend's name.

“He's in the apartment next door,” the woman informed him, her tone friendly and accommodating.

“Oh, my apologies,” Oscar replied, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude for her help.

“That's quite alright,” the woman assured him with another smile, her kindness putting him at ease.

As Oscar made his way down the corridor to the correct apartment, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his forgetfulness. He couldn't shake the image of the warm and welcoming woman who had graciously pointed him in the right direction, her beauty leaving him momentarily speechless.

With a meek wave of acknowledgment, Oscar continued on his way, determined to focus on the task at hand. Finally reaching Lando's door, he took a deep breath to steady his nerves before knocking.

After a few moments that felt like an eternity, the door swung open, revealing Lando's familiar face. Relief washed over Oscar as he was greeted by his friend's infectious grin.

“Lando!” Oscar exclaimed, a wave of excitement coursing through him.

“Oscar, mate! You made it!” Lando replied enthusiastically, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Yeah, sorry for the delay. Got a bit turned around,” Oscar admitted sheepishly, his earlier embarrassment fading in the warmth of Lando's welcoming embrace. “I couldn’t remember your apartment number.”

“Oh, so you met Genevieve then?” Oscar chuckled sheepishly at Lando's inquiry about the mysterious Genevieve.

“Genevieve?” he echoed, trying to recall the features of the woman who had guided him to the right apartment.

“Curly red hair, beautiful. She waters my plants when I'm gone,” Lando explained, a hint of fondness in his voice.

“Must have been her then,” Oscar replied, mentally replaying their brief encounter and nodding in recognition.

“Did you get her number?” Lando raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“It was literally a five-second interaction, how was I supposed to get her number?” Oscar's cheeks flushed slightly at the suggestion.

As the night unfolded, Oscar found himself swept up in the vibrant energy of Monaco's nightlife. Dinner with friends and fellow drivers was a lively affair, filled with laughter and animated conversation. Then, the pulsating beat of the club beckoned, and Oscar and Lando danced the night away, revelling in the electric atmosphere.

“Fair enough. Nevermind, I'll just send it to you.” Lando chuckled knowingly. “You can text her and apologise for knocking on the wrong door.”

As they made their way back to Lando's apartment in the early hours of the morning, their laughter echoed through the quiet streets of Monaco. Their spirits buoyed by the exhilarating night, they stumbled playfully through the door, their cheeks flushed with the warmth of friendship and a hint of tipsiness.

But their jovial mood faltered slightly as they noticed Genevieve fumbling with her keys at the door of the neighbouring apartment. She looked up, surprised, as the sound of their laughter reached her ears.

"Hey, Genevieve!" Lando called out, his voice slightly slurred with alcohol but filled with genuine warmth.

“Oh, hey there! Looks like you had a good night.” Genevieve turned towards them, a smile spreading across her face as recognition dawned.

“Yeah, it was amazing!” Oscar chimed in, his words slightly exaggerated in his inebriated state.

“Glad to hear it. You guys certainly sound like you had fun,” Genevieve chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m actually glad I caught you. I can't get my door unlocked.”

Lando stepped forward, offering to help. Taking the keys from her, he inserted one into the lock and tried turning it, his brow furrowing in concentration. But to their dismay, the lock remained stubbornly unyielding.

Oscar exchanged a sympathetic smile with Genevieve, their shared amusement at the unexpected turn of events breaking through the tension. Despite the late hour and the lingering effects of the night's revelry, there was a sense of camaraderie in their shared predicament.

As they waited for Lando to work his magic with the stubborn lock, Oscar couldn't help but admire Genevieve. Despite the minor setback, her smile remained bright, her demeanour unfazed by the inconvenience.

“We might have to get maintenance out to help,” Lando suggested, his tone tinged with resignation.

“Let me give it a try,” Oscar offered, eager to lend a hand.

Lando handed Oscar the key, and with a determined expression, Oscar stepped forward. He inserted the key into the lock once more, feeling the resistance as he twisted and turned it, his fingers deftly manoeuvring the stubborn mechanism.

After a few tense seconds of pushing and pulling, a sense of satisfaction washed over Oscar as he felt the lock finally give way under his persistent efforts. With a triumphant click, the door unlocked, swinging open to reveal the comforting familiarity of Genevieve's apartment.

A chorus of cheers erupted from the group as they exchanged relieved glances, the tension of the moment dissipating into shared laughter and camaraderie. Despite the minor setback, there was a sense of accomplishment in their success, a testament to their resourcefulness and teamwork.

“Nice work, Oscar!” Lando exclaimed, clapping his friend on the back with a grin of appreciation. Oscar grinned back, feeling a swell of pride at the successful resolution of their predicament.

“Thank you so much! Both of you,” Genevieve expressed her gratitude with a warm smile, her eyes reflecting genuine appreciation.

“No problem,” Oscar replied with a polite nod, returning her smile.

“Oh, Genevieve, this is Oscar. He's my teammate.” Lando seized the opportunity to make introductions.

“Hi, Oscar,” Genevieve greeted him warmly, extending her hand in a friendly gesture.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Oscar responded, shaking her hand with a friendly smile.

Before any further pleasantries could be exchanged, Lando interrupted with an urgent declaration. “Flip, I need the bathroom.”

With a hurried apology, Lando dashed away, disappearing into his apartment in search of relief. Left in the hallway with Genevieve, Oscar couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's sudden departure.

“Well, it seems Lando's in a bit of a rush,” he remarked, a wry smile playing on his lips.

"If you're not in a rush, can I offer you some coffee for your trouble?" Genevieve offered, her hospitality extending beyond mere gratitude.

"Sure, that'd be lovely," Oscar replied, touched by her kindness.

With a grateful nod, Genevieve gestured for Oscar to follow her into her apartment. As she shut the door behind them, a sense of warmth and comfort enveloped them, the cosy atmosphere a welcome contrast to the cool night air outside.

Oscar took in his surroundings with curiosity, noting the tasteful décor and inviting ambiance of Genevieve's living space. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, adding to the sense of cosiness and hospitality.

Settling into a comfortable chair, Oscar couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events. What had started as a simple visit to Monaco had evolved into a night filled with laughter, friendship, and unexpected connections.

As Genevieve busied herself in the kitchen, preparing coffee with practised ease, Oscar reflected on the serendipity of their encounter. Despite the minor hiccup with the door, it seemed that fate had intervened to bring them together, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and newfound connections.

As the hours slipped away, Oscar and Genevieve found themselves immersed in conversation, their words flowing effortlessly as they explored a myriad of topics. From lighthearted anecdotes to deeper reflections, they shared stories and insights, each moment deepening the bond between them.

As the night wore on, the gentle rhythm of their conversation slowed, the weight of exhaustion settling over them like a comforting blanket. Genevieve's head gradually dropped, coming to rest on Oscar's shoulder as her breathing softened into the steady cadence of sleep.

Feeling the weight of her head against him, Oscar couldn't help but smile, touched by the intimacy of the moment. With a sense of tenderness, he shifted slightly, adjusting his position to provide her with greater comfort.

And as the quiet of the night enveloped them, Oscar too felt the pull of sleep tugging at his consciousness. The warmth of Genevieve's presence beside him was comforting, her steady breathing lulling him into a state of peaceful relaxation.

Eventually, fatigue won out, and Oscar closed his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to the embrace of sleep. Wrapped in the tranquillity of the moment, he drifted off, the gentle rise and fall of Genevieve's breathing serving as a soothing lullaby, carrying him into the realm of dreams.

As Oscar returned to Lando's apartment the following morning, a buoyant energy infused his every step, his heart light with the joy of newfound connection and unexpected camaraderie. Despite the early hour, his spirit soared with the exuberance of a schoolboy, his thoughts abuzz with the memories of the night before.

Entering the apartment with a spring in his step, Oscar greeted Lando with a wide grin, unable to contain his excitement.

“Mate, you won't believe the night I had!” He exclaimed, his words tumbling out in a rush of enthusiasm. Lando raised an eyebrow, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he took in Oscar's giddy demeanour.

“Sounds like you had quite the adventure,” he remarked, his tone tinged with amusement.

“Oh, it was more than an adventure, Lando. It was... it was magical,” Oscar gushed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

As he regaled Lando with tales of his night spent chatting with Genevieve, their conversation stretching into the early hours of the morning, Oscar couldn't help but relive the moments of connection that had made the night so special.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Lando's question hung in the air, prompting Oscar to pause and consider his response. With a determined smile, he met his friend's gaze, his excitement palpable.

“I'm going to take her on a date,” he declared, his voice brimming with certainty. “And when I get back to the UK, I'm going to start packing my stuff to move to Monaco, because she's just incredible.”

The words spilled forth with a sense of conviction that left no room for doubt. In Genevieve, Oscar had found something special – a connection that transcended mere friendship, igniting a spark of possibility that filled him with renewed purpose and excitement.

As he contemplated the future that lay ahead, Oscar couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation for the adventures that awaited him in Monaco. With Genevieve by his side, the possibilities seemed endless, each moment brimming with the promise of new experiences and shared dreams.

And as he shared his plans with Lando, the support and encouragement in his friend's eyes only served to bolster his resolve. With a grateful nod, Oscar knew that the journey ahead would be filled with challenges and uncertainties, but he also knew that he was ready to embrace them, fueled by the fire of newfound love and the boundless potential of the future.

“I knew you'd like her,” Lando teased, his tone playful. “I did give you her apartment number to begin with anyway.”

Oscar couldn't help but chuckle at Lando's teasing remark, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

“I owe you big time for that,” he replied with a grin, his admiration for Lando's intuition evident in his words.

#oscar piastri #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #mclaren #mclaren f1 #f1 x reader #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x female reader #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 #op81 fic

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basket-of-radiants · 1 year ago

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Hello there! I appreciate and welcome the reply, as I did and continue to invite discussion. However reading through this, I'm feeling like you kind of missed the point of my post.

(Stating here and now, because I am and forever will be paranoid about coming across as overly aggressive to strangers on the internet, that I am taking your reply in good faith, and my response is similarly being made in good faith.)

This post wasn't intended as a callout of the Kholins, this isn't calling them problematic, this isn't me saying that any of them are acting out of character or that they were wrong to have done any of the stuff they've done. What would/should a character do, or what is/isn't in character for them, or what's easy/difficult in a fictional story is entirely up to the author. None of these characters are real people who are making real choices and responding to real situations. It's not about their decisions, it's about the writer's decision to have them behave in certain ways and then to have the narrative react positively to them. To use the tried Watsonian/Doylist comparison, I'm not really interested in saying "I don't like that Watson did X so he should have done Y instead." Rather, I'm trying to say "when Watson did X, it implies A about the story, so if Doyle wanted to tell a story about B then it would have been more effective to have Watson do Y." Personally as a reader, I do not like how race and class have been treated in this series. A prominent reason is that Sanderson made the decision in Way of Kings to place these topics as prominent themes and cornerstones of the plot. He then continued to revisit these topics throughout the sequels. Then, after having played such an important role in the story thus far, the entire matter of the caste system was seemingly resolved in a manner that I found insultingly easy and straightforward, as I view these themes (especially as they were presented) to have a lot of gravitas. Since this is such a big topic that is so important to the entire Alethi society as presented, I therefore expect it to play a large role in the story. And since the Kholins make up the majority of the main POV characters, that would necessitate exploring these themes through them as well. That is the purpose of this post. You seem to think my issue was that the characters/story didn't make sense to me or weren't believable, but that was never what I was saying. You're arguing against points I was never trying to make.

Like! I agree, the Kholins are not telling the story of race in these books! I 100% understand that. That is the crux of my entire issue and why I wrote this post in the first place.

There is this vision of racism, where it is a problem that is "about" marginalized races, for instance where I live in America racism is considered to be a problem that black communities face and need to overcome. This framing of course ignores the fact that the black communities are not the ones doing the racism, that's being done by largely (although not entirely) white racists and institutions, which is why we can't just leave it to marginalized groups to address race, we also have to demand change from the people actually causing the problems. I don't expect a fantasy series about magical knights to solve one of the most complicated and systemically engrained social issues that humanity faces, but from my read this series did start out with the clear intent to discuss topics of race and class, and then it dropped the ball. It discarded nuance to pretend that complicated issues have easy solutions. However, I find that it's easy to criticize without having actionable solutions in mind, so my post was intended as an exploration into how some of this lost nuance could have been reintegrated into the story.

For instance, for Jasnah. As I thoroughly stated in my initial post, I don't actually have a problem with Jasnah having ended slavery. I do think it could have been done better (see above for specifics) but if that's how Sanderson wants to resolve slavery, fine. The reason why so many other fans were upset at this resolution was because they felt Sanderson was using Jasnah to sweep the entire topic of slavery under the rug without giving the topic the weight it deserved, and I agree with that criticism as well. I'm not arguing that it doesn't make sense for her to do this if she hadn't shown slaves any sympathy prior; I'm arguing that it would have made for a much stronger narrative if she had.

As to your specific points, I don't want to linger too much here, but I would like to briefly disagree. There is no such thing as absolute power. The reason that doesn't exist in the real world is because no leader has or ever will rule alone. Even for a dictator, it's literally not possible to run an empire without delegating, and once you've delegated you've split your power. Furthermore most of your points as to why she didn't face more backlash, while plausible, are all your own extrapolations and are not explicitly corroborated by the text. I'd imagine that all of the same arguments could be made for why the humans would hold on even tighter to whatever slaves they had left. Ultimately however, I'm not interested in debating the logistics of a fictional world unless the author clearly highlights them as relevant to the story he's telling.

I do want to push back a little bit on the notion that the Kholins themselves aren't racist. I definitely don't believe that all white people are inherently racist and must atone for the sin of being white or anything like that. But I think if someone had a lot of personal acquaintances who kept slaves and never really cared much one way or the other, then unless they're an equal-opportunity extreme misanthrope I think I could pretty safely say that that person specifically is quite racist. It doesn't matter if Adolin is nice or not to the specific darkeyes he knows and interacts with, on a broader scale if I'm to consider him a good person who cares about others, this is a topic that should be addressed in his story. For Jasnah I can get even more scathing, because she clearly does think about structures of oppression and has written extensive texts on vorin-society feminism, but the fact that she doesn't seem to have any writing regarding the caste system is very much a statement in of itself. Dalinar has a whole arc in the first book about being able to compromise on the topic of slavery for the sake of unity! And I'm supposed to just trust that this is the guy with divine right to lead humanity because he gave all the slaves new jobs afterwards.

And even now, my point is still not to say that the Kholins are #problematic. They are a major institution in a society built off of racial castes, so I don't even think that should need to be said. What I would like is for a story that's willing to really linger on and embrace their contradictions, treat them as flawed and complicated people rather than push them all on the ever-progressing path toward becoming heroic paragons. For a series with such powerful themes regarding facing the past and ones own actions, it's kind of insulting for such a major topic to be entirely overlooked in regards to most of the cast.

I hope all of that helped to better-explain my thinking.

Proposal for Re-working the Kholins’ Character Arcs - a semi-coherent “essay” by me (feat. @akpaley, thank you for your contributions and for your attempts at editing.)

Hey guys. Different kind of post this time around, compared to my usual brand. It’s time for some fix-it fanfiction masquerading as literary critique. I won’t be using a readmore, I dunno, probably to punish anyone still following this blog or something. So! In this post I’m going to solve the all the issues of racial theming associated with the Kholin family.

I’m often very harsh on the Kholins for benefitting so much from exploitative power structures while doing little to help those below them. But then I’ve also criticized them for actually addressing these very problems in-universe. How can I be upset at them for their inaction and then also be annoyed when Jasnah ends slavery? The short answer to all of this is just that the ways these topics are addressed all feel very inauthentic. For example, in real life history it took over a century of protests, slave revolts, political campaigning, and civil wars to legally end slavery in Europe and America, and abolitionists were met with fierce opposition at every turn. A fictional world need not follow our same historical trajectory, but it still seems a little disingenuous for a monarch to just decide to end it within her first year of power because it doesn’t mesh with her philosophical framework. It’s more like trying to wrap up a subplot than actually address the topic.

Ultimately however, there’s only so far this line of criticism can ever take me because the Kholins are the protagonists and you can’t get rid of them without turning the whole story into something else entirely. And Sanderson shouldn’t have to, these are characters that he created and he’s allowed to tell a story about them. And I actually like a lot of their personalities and arcs and outlooks quite a lot. I do think it’s…unfortunate…to have used slavery and racism as disposable props in a story that ultimately turned out to be about a bunch of royals learning to be better people and saving the world along the way. So I guess what I’m interested in is if there’s a way to keep the premise, keep the characters, keep the general story beats, keep the themes of honor and personal growth, keep the basic structure of everything, and still handle those themes with grace. You know, could this be a compassionate story about addressing racism told from the point of view of nobility? Is such a thing possible?

Well, I’m going to try my best. And I’m going to be imperfect about it, obviously, so if you actually care enough to read all this shit, I welcome discussion and disagreement.

Jasnah is the most obvious example to point to as being indicative of the problem, but I also think she has the easiest character fixes. She’s already been established as an outspoken dissident on many of her society’s deeply ingrained values. Just add to her atheism and feminism that she’s also always been an outspoken abolitionist. Give her ties to an ongoing reformist movement. Have her lecture Shallan about it in Way of Kings. Make that a reason she’s butted heads with her family so much. I do think it’s poor writing to have a ruler end slavery on a whim, but I won’t deny that having the right person in power can make a huge difference. It’s not as cathartic as having Kaladin lead a slave revolt (or as having Moash destroy society <3) but that doesn’t make it inherently bad so long as the topic itself is still treated with weight. Have her moralistic ideology be firmly pre-established so that when she has to explain why she’s abolishing slavery, her reasoning can be purely pragmatic. The reason she’s moving so fast is because this is a historical point of heightened change, and so her reforms are more likely to work, but if she waits too long and things settle back into a new status quo, she may have missed her window. Not to mention, when her nephew comes of age, her own legitimacy as a ruler might be challenged, so she needs to do as much as she can in what may be end up being a short reign. As a character, Jasnah has always been able to girlboss her way past political realities through sheer force of personality, and that’s great and all, but I think it heightens her character’s competence if she does have to deal with real backlash, not just to her but to her policies as well. The narrative doesn’t even need to linger on her opposition, but acknowledging it and acknowledging that she’s simply a member of a preexisting and ongoing movement would have done wonders to portray slavery as a real and prescient issue. Then again, this is a topic which people have fought and continue to fight wars over, so it wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to have receive major backlash either; perhaps when the Kholins hear in Words of Radiance that she was assassinated, the news could come as tragic but not entirely unexpected so as to imply that her opposition has attempted such in the past. All this is to say, I don’t think it’s at all wrong for Jasnah to do what she did. I also don’t think her entire stance on abolitionism should have come down to a comment where she tells her uncle she’s trying to rule according to ethically consistent values. The fact that slavery was insultingly easy to end not only delegitimizes is as a topic worthy of discussion, but also is a really scathing indictment of literally everyone else in the ruling class who didn’t even think to try.

Jasnah done, easy, Dalinar next.

Dalinar is probably the most complicated character for me to discuss and form coherent statements on. He’s just so rife with contradictions down to his core. That’s probably why I continue to like him so much, why he’s still my favorite, even though I still consider him to be a Bad Person over all. I think deep down I’ll always lean a bit too pacifistic ideologically to ever consider a warlord/general to be a good person, no matter how honorable he may be or how much growth he may undergo. Don’t get me wrong, I still do love his growth. Dalinar is characterized by his constant change and forward momentum, even moreso than the rest of the cast. So for discussing him, at what point can I point to him and say “this is Dalinar, this is who he is, this is what he believes and what he cares about”? Of course, during any point in his arc, you’re going to have to grapple with the fact that all of his lofty rhetoric about honor and striving for personal betterment is ultimately going to be pretty useless to all the people whose lives he’s meaninglessly thrown away across his military career. For me personally, when I talk about his character I like to take the end-of-oathbringer approach, where I acknowledge everything he did in the past as Blackthorn, I agree that it was pretty fucked up, and I forgive him and grant him a clean slate. All this to say that even if I’m judging him purely by his behavior as the current Dalinar within the present day continuity of the books, he’s still a massive hypocrite with horrific amounts of blood on his hands which he’s never even bothered to consider. I dunno, when I first read Way of Kings and I first got to meet this general who’s leading an army in a literal genocide campaign, I sort of figured he’d get some kind of “wait am I the bad guy” moment at some point in the future. And he did get a moment in Oathbringer where he has to fully confront his guilt over past actions, it was great, I really really loved it! But it was also all about actions he took before the series even started, so I guess wiping out the listeners wasn’t a sin he thought needed any atonement. I’m not going to get into the narrative’s treatment of singers and listeners on this post (for no other reason than because I have waaaaaaay too much to say there) but the point I’m getting at is that however good Dalinar’s growth is and whatever direction it takes, it’s always going to have poisonous roots to me. And his treatment of class/racial issues is no different.

Fixing Dalinar is going to take a lot of what Dalinar does best: introspection. In Way of Kings, Dalinar dislikes how Sadeas treats his bridgemen because he believes it to be dishonorable, because he believes Sadeas is forcing others into a situation that he himself would never put himself into. He also has various sympathetic reflections here and there about how sad it is when soldiers die, and about how without the benefit of the Thrill, violence is actually kind of bad. You know how it goes. But I don’t think he ever put himself at risk to actually help or protect any of the people who are dying. Whether he wants to end the war or not, he still continues to participate in it. And he’s still willing to set aside the lives of literally everyone beneath him so he can pursue his dream of unity. The book ends with Kaladin and the rest of bridge four saving him and Adolin, and in gratitude, he purchases their freedom and gives them honored positions in his household. You know, because he’s so honorable. Everyone loves this scene, so I’m going to make it the catalyst for Dalinar’s new and improved character development. The problem with saying Kaladin helped Dalinar so Dalinar helped Kaladin is that when I’m being reductive and uncharitable (like I’m being right now), I can argue that their relationship basically started as a quid pro quo. This scene is meant to prove that Dalinar really is the most honorable person in Alethkar, just as Syl thought, only it doesn’t actually do that. See I don’t actually want Dalinar to start treating Kaladin as an equal. I want Dalinar to, in that moment, realize that Kaladin is better than him. That for all of his pontificating about honor, he would have never even considered risking his own life and the lives of his own family to rescue a bunch of bridgemen. I want him to see Kaladin’s honor, and rather than be validated in his beliefs, I want him to be thoroughly humbled. Let him spend all next book reflecting on all the lives of darkeyes he’s destroyed. Let it shame him, as Evi’s death shamed him. He already flirts with these lines of thought, and he already has an arc about confronting his past actions. Let the racial injustices he’s participated in be a part of that. Let him abandon his books and traditions instead look to Kaladin to learn what honor truly means. I don’t know how any of this would translate to his actions, because if we’re being honest his ideals are already quite incongruous with his actions, but the fact that he manages to have such strong theming regardless makes me think maybe that’s okay. I guess ultimately it would be enough for me if his character, as someone who symbolizes the ideals of a nation, was able to look at a darkeyes publicly be a follower rather than always trying to lead by his own personal example.

That’s Dalinar. Elhokar next?

I actually don’t think there’s too much wrong with Elhokar’s writing, especially in the first two books where a much greater emphasis on these themes were placed. He’s not a protagonist and we the audience aren’t supposed to endorse his actions. Most of what I’d change about his story is more about Kaladin and Moash than it is about him. I definitely don’t love that he can throw away the lives of his own people by the thousands in the genocide campaign that was the vengeance war, and then have the narrative just ignore all that in favor of him being sad about his own incompetence. If Elhokar is meant to be a sympathetic character, then when he calls himself a bad king, that’s what he should be thinking about, the number of lives he’s wasted over these years. I actually like him a lot more as a less sympathetic character, and I think I would have preferred if in oathbringer the narrative and the other characters would have stopped making so many excuses for him. Back to Kaladin and Moash, those are the two characters defined by their experiences as members of the downtrodden caste, so I personally sort of judge the problematic-ness of the whole story by how they get treated. Everyone loves to talk about how those two are foils. So. In order to strengthen Kaladin and Moash’s characters, either Elhokar needs to be as much of a monster as Amaram, or Amaram needs to be just as sympathetic and conflicted and having-of-a-toddler as Elhokar. Don’t get me wrong, I genuinely love the trope of finding at the end of a revenge quest that the person you hated has changed and grown. But I hate how this means that Moash’s hatred is wrong and unjustified, whereas Kaladin’s is validated at every turn. I don’t actually dislike Elhokar. I mean I think he’s a bad person, but I like a lot of characters who are bad people. I just think that if this story really wants to grapple with class and race (because it sure brings them up a lot for a story that doesn’t want to talk about them), then Moash is a much more important character than him, with a lot more to add to that kind of discussion, which is why I think Elhokar��s characterization would have to come second to Moash’s development. (Obviously if this series were being reworked to be better on this topic, Moash would have to be written with a lot more compassion in general, but this post isn’t about him.)

Intermission time. Gavilar.

Gavilar is already perfect, 10/10, great character all around, what a guy, no notes, no wonder he’s so universally beloved among all of the fans, social justice icon.

Okay onto Navani.

I may not be the best person to talk about Navani. She has never been a favorite character of mine, and so compared to the others I haven’t thought as much about her values or the way she thinks or the narrative impacts of her actions. Someone who has more love for her would probably write better criticisms of her. (I’m going to reject any premise that falls along the lines of “Navani isn’t racist because she feels X,” but I’m not wholly confident in my analysis here, and I welcome any good faith critiques both of my own thinking and of her character when come at from other angles.) It’s hard to say where she should have grown from how she starts out viewing darkeyes because I don’t actually know how she starts out viewing darkeyes. I know I’m probably meant to assume she just treats everyone equally because she’s a Good Person on Team Good Guys, but it’s hard to just accept that she had all around good values when she married a warlord and was in love with his more violent brother. I dunno, was her “good guy” status meant to have always been an element of her character, or did she get it secondhand from her association with the new and improved Dalinar? With someone like Adolin, we got to see what shitty values he held at the start of Way of Kings (I’m talking about the Alethi warmongering, not his interest in fashion) but we also got to see how his father gradually won him over throughout the course of the book, and then later on we get to see him develop further on his own. For someone like Navani, I find it strange how she’s always so proactively supportive of Dalinar in everything, even when his own goals and values are in flux. I assume her character is just meant to be super ride or die when it comes to her family, and I do like that in a character, but that also means that she’s been wholly willing to support or at the very least excuse her family’s oppression and exploitation of darkeyes without comment. (See, Lirin is a much better parent than Navani, he would never have let his son start a whole genocidal vengeance war for fun and profit (I say this as if I’m joking but I’m kinda not.)) Some people have reminded me that she was pretty much shut out of the political process by Gavilar and Elhokar, and I agree with that, but I don’t really have any evidence that she would have cared much about darkeyes even if she had been more involved. In general it just seems like the whole topic doesn’t matter much to her. So what I would wish for the narrative would be to lean further into this. Draw attention to her cognitive dissonance and try and make the readers feel conflicted about her as a person. Highlight the fact that she’s willing to overlook the suffering that befalls other families if it means success for her own. I think one of my issues with her is that to me, this is a major (and interesting!) character flaw, but the books never seem to treat it as such. Honestly I think if this were intentional, I’d probably find her character really interesting, but from my reading of the text, I feel that I’m supposed to think of Navani as a generally decent person who’s by and large on the right side of things. The thing is, with the caste system playing such an integral role in their culture, I think she needs to have some sort of feelings about it, or else the fact that she doesn’t should be an issue to overcome. Otherwise she becomes another factor delegitimizing racial oppression as a real and important problem. If she’s a good guy and she doesn’t care about racism, then that’s saying you don’t have to be antiracist to be a good person in this world.

Probably could have done that one better. I dunno. Leave me angry and hateful comments if I’m totally misrepresenting your favorite character. Moving on.

Adolin already has some great character development across the books. And he already has kind of engaged with this stuff in his story. Unfortunately, that’s less used in the “this person was racist but is becoming better sense” and more used in the sense of “Kaladin learns that #NotAllLighteyes are bad” which is pretty unfortunate for a number of reasons. Especially since, if he actually was going to prove he’s different from other lighteyes, out of all the Kholins I think Adolin is the best candidate for being a full on class traitor. I’m serious, looking back over the events of his plotlines, it would suit him shockingly well while disturbing the overall narrative shockingly little.

Adolin’s current plot is loosely as follows: in Way of Kings he likes all the things someone of his station is supposed to like, clothes, violence, dueling, warfare, swords, hangtime with the guys, all the good stuff. At the beginning of the book he doesn’t understand why old, stuck-up Dalinar can’t just let loose and be a relelntless war-monger like everyone else, but by the end of the book he’s come to understand a certain value to honor and thus has begun to become a better person himself. Words of Radiance has him lose his popularity, fall out of favor with all of his friends, grow disillusioned with his society, perform a prison sit-in in solidarity with Kaladin, and murder Sadeas. Most of this is done again, because of his father, and how Adolin now wants to help and support him and his ideals. In Oathbringer he mostly isn’t involved in courtly politics, being away on a mission for much of it, but he does make a pretty big move by rejecting the throne. In Rhythm of War we see the schism that’s formed between him and his father until he leaves on another long-distance mission. Summary over. In general I reject the idea that making the Kholins be individually less racist makes for a better, or more nuanced and compassionate discussion of the topic, but if anyone is primed for a “lighteyes learns racism is wrong” character arc, I think it’s Adolin. Imagine him following a bit less in Dalinar’s footsteps and a bit more in Jasnah’s. You almost don’t even have to change any story beats: in getting to know Kaladin, something clicks in Adolin where he realizes that if he wants to treat Kaladin as his equal, he has to treat all darkeyes as equals, and so he realizes to his horror that he and his entire caste of friends and family are all monsters for treating them the way they do. (Actually, there is one plotline in WoR I’d probably scrap, and that’s his slowburn bromance with Kaladin. I mean I get what Sanderson was going for with the ribbing and then eventual friendship, but Kaladin was an absolute stranger who risked his own life to save Adolin and his father from certain death, and so I feel there should probably have been a bit more overt respect upfront there.) In pushing for his newfound belief in equality, he ends up burning through all of his intracaste goodwill and political capital, causing all of his friends to drop him. When he kills Sadeas, it doesn’t have to be about protecting Dalinar or about personal revenge, it could also be that he’s gotten to know Bridge 4 and learned firsthand about the atrocities they’d gone through, and so there’s no way he’d allow such a pioneer of human rights violations to stay in power. In the following books, maybe he’s become so politically toxic due to challenging the very foundations of his own power, his own family has to send him away on missions so he can’t rock the boat too much at home. Maybe refusing the throne was more of a political statement than a personal one, because he’s come to understand that being a ruler means oppressing thousands of others. Maybe this is another form of hypocrisy he criticizes Dalinar for, how Dalinar might claim to value darkeyes but how he still retains power bought with thousands of their corpses. None of this has to modify actual events very much, it just affects the reasons for them. And it would also meaningfully show why he gets to be a “good lighteyes” if he actually engaged with his status and rejected it, knowing it comes at the expense of others.

Okay, enough about that. Renarin maybe?

I won’t say too much about Renarin here, because I’d probably just end up repeating a lot of the same criticisms of how he’s used as a “good lighteyes.” From a narrative standpoint, all those criticisms hold for him as well. You know, he wants to join Bridge Four, and future-villain Moash doesn’t like the idea because he doesn’t trust lighteyes, but Kaladin reassures him that Renarin is a good boy, so don’t worry about it, and everything works out fine in the end, proving that lighteyes are good people just like you and me. This isn’t a problem with him as a person or character, it’s just more of that general theme of “the caste system is fine so long as nice people are at the top” which I clearly think should be interrogated. Thus far, in contrast to the rest of his family, Renarin is very young and has had much less of a political presence, not to mention fewer POV chapters anyway, so I think delving too much deeper here will feel a bit hollow to me.

Does Shallan count as a Kholin? I’d like to talk about her super briefly.

Unpopular opinion, but I actually think Shallan is one of the better characters on the topic of race insofar as how she’s written, especially compared to the other Kholins. But wait, I hear you say, what about all of her dozens of instances of casual racism? Yes, that’s what I’m referring to. I like how Shallan demonstrates how ingrained these harmful ideologies are in their society. I like how every time she has a distasteful thought, we the audience are reminded that racism still exists and even good people will continue to promote it if they don’t view it critically. I like that Shallan is problematic, because their society has problems! At least with her it doesn’t feel like the story’s trying to sweep the fact under the rug. There are plenty of issues with her writing, plenty of jabs at Kaladin that probably shouldn’t have been treated as cute. She’s actually the main character whose racism and classism I see criticized the most. And I think that’s a good thing! My issue with the Kholins isn’t that I think they should all be less racist, my issue is that their positions are inherently oppressive, and it seems as though the narrative doesn’t think that matters so long as deep down they’re good people. When people critique Shallan in specific instances, I tend to see a fair amount of consensus and agreement there, but when I critique the Kholins people will argue with me by pointing out that Dalinar/Adolin/Navani/whoever actually treats darkeyes as equals, so my arguments are invalid. Purely my own anecdotal experience of course, but it tends to make me think that there’s something in Shallan’s writing that’s working right, something that isn’t working for the other lighteyed characters.

Now obviously with all of this, I’m not saying I want these books to have more racism in them. What I’m arguing is that if the books are going to explore the topic (which they do) then they should treat the topic with an appropriate amount of gravity rather than acting as if it can be solved by having aristocrats become nicer people.

If you’re still here with me, thank you for reading, I love you, I hope you enjoyed yourself through my descent further and further into rambly nonsense. If you just scrolled to the bottom, that’s fair enough, there won’t be a tl;dr but you’re welcome for filling your dash with massive text blocks.

#god i am sorry for how long this post got #if folks want to reply to this you're welcome to make a new post in response and @ me. i'll rb it.#eventually.#or dm if you just want to chat #reminder again that i am taking replies in good faith and please understand that i am also responding to them in good faith.#i should also start adding copious disclaimers about how i don't expect sanderson to read this or come to my blog for writing advice #i mean if he does‚ then hi brandon�� but mostly i'm just trying to engage with stories critically #i'm really just trying to be clear as possible #sorry for the delayed response time. i definitely have not been in a stormlight headspace for a few weeks.#discourse #long post #still don't know if anyone actually blocks that tag #honestly though if you're still following this blog i don't know what you're looking for if NOT long posts #more drawings? ha.#oh wait i did actually finally get new batteries for my stylus so if any of you do have a drawing request i can take those again

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