#I promise I will only continue to get better and I have animations in mind... đđđ
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Guess whose birthday it is today! Omw to the retirement home! đđ„łđ
(Yes technically it passed at midnight but đ€«đ€«đ€« I was busy and wanted to share a quick post of a "gift" I drew for myself, thank you all for your support for the past few months and on all my posts, I appreciate you all more than I can express, you're the best <:D)
#the eltingville club#welcome to eltingville#bill dickey#my art#eltingville fanart#I think?? I don't know#birthday art#no but seriously I feel very happy for everyone who has ever liked what stupid stuff I come up with đ«¶đ»#I survived another year#I promise I will only continue to get better and I have animations in mind... đđđ#love my friends mutuals and you for reading this!#yeah yeah cheesy I know call me Mr. Cheesy Guy leave me alone I'm the birthday boy âđ»đ€#Ofc it had to be Bill... what else would I want? đ€ Also Ryan from Infinity Train is there that's me#shutting up#okay I lied I'm gonna brag about going to a comic shop hehaheh and the b-day Bill card a friend gave me
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Part 1. I changed the header cause I used too many of the "anime boy gif" for crybaby, so that's just his thing now. Honestly, idk if you guys like slow paced better but here it is. Tags: Swearing. The L word. NSFW in the end, dry humping. The usual.
Popular yandere, who was politely sat with a cheerful smile. Eyes looking at your figure frantically picking up the trash and the clothes scattered around. He offered to help you a few times and insisted he was an excellent cleaner and would be of great help to you. But you turned him downâknowing you had plenty of dirty articles of clothing that were not the most appropriate to see.
You told him to wait outside. To save you the crippling embarrassment that might haunt you for years to come. It just never crossed your mind that a living, breathing human being would willingly want to be in a romantic relationship with you. If you went back in time to tell yourself someone super popular, so unbelievably hot, was head over heels for youâwell, you'd probably tell yourself to fuck off.Â
Nevertheless, you had no idea your procrastination would come back to bite you. This dude literally went on his knees and bawled his eyes out for you⊠YOU. The invisible outcast who had terrible social skills. Now he was sitting on your bed quietly, watching your every move with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy smile, hoping one of those dirty underwear would accidentally fall on his face.
You continued running around, shoving filthy things into random drawers to get the work done quicker. Yet it seemed like the work would never stop. Your desk filled with empty cans and mysterious stains. âOhh, why is it so messy here?!âÂ
âI can wait.â He replied quickly. âI will wait as long as it takes, darling. I really do not mind.âÂ
You paused. A weird feeling in your chest when he called you that nickname. Did he really become your boyfriend just like that? It was going to take a while for you to get adjusted to his presence, let alone his nicknames. He really existed in the same room as you at the same time willingly. Wow.
âUhhh, yeah. I'm, um, sorry you had to see that, I guess. I don't usually have guests.â
He smiled a bit too widely at that. Almost as if he was very pleased to hear that. Already possessive of you when you only started dating a few hours ago.Â
Taking a seat beside him, you awkwardly shifted on your familiar mattress and leaned back to the headboard of your bed. Failing to make any kind of eye contact. His gaze was so intenseâit made you feel all tingly and confused. You started feeling conscious of yourself, wondering where to put your hands and if you should cross your legs or put them on your head. He was so flawless and proper, it made you a lot nervous.
âI wanted to thank you.â He spoke carefully. âI know you have trust issues, but I promise that I will NEVER be untrue.â You gulped involuntarily when he scooted closer; his aromatic smell wafted in the air. His pinkie entangled with yours, a childish gesture of commitment. His eyes widened slightly, and a glint of madness sparked in his eyes. âThis feels right. As if it was meant to happen. I have never felt anything like this before. I want to do anything you ask. Whatever it takes to make sure you stay with me forever⊠Which should not be hard to do since no one else cares about you.â
âShould I be offended or question why that kinda turns me on?â Your brows furrowed at the last hushed part. You thought those condescending words were a bit out of character for him. But what do you know? The mask he kept around others was not there in your presence.Â
It really didn't matter that he was a controlling, unstable maniac. It was hot actually. The way he threatened you with his love, the turmoil, his clinginess. He was like your own personal 'build a crazy boyfriend'.
His fingers intertwined with yours while he scooted closer to hover over your lap. Hands holding yours down, breath hitting your ear, lips parted to speak in a low, threatening tone. Heat going straight to your core. âYou are never leaving me. I will make sure of it. We are made for each other. It was fate! You cannot go against fate, right?
His voice sent a tingle through your body. A mix of chilling fear and, unsurprisingly, arousal from the warning. You'd always fantasized about things like this. A guy straddling your lap. On your bed. Moaning noisily as he made out with you, tugging at the hair behind your neck while he tried to suck the air out of your lungs. You felt wetness down there, like you creamed your pants or maybe it was merely the sticky sweat or rather both.
He was more obsessed and unhinged than any normal person you'd seen on the televisionâ your relationship strange. But beggars couldn't be choosers, could they? Your perverted dreams were finally being fulfilled. Images of him dressed in lewd cute outfits, calling you various nicknames with his angelic voice, and begging for mercy when you stick a vibrator in hisâ Maybe you spent too much time in incognito. Yeah, definitely.
âNot to complain, or whatever. But isn't this moving a bit too fast? Shouldn't we, I don't know, slow down? And I can... go to the bathroom for a while.â You needed a chance to breathe, to scream into your hands and take a very, very long shower with how much you were sweating.
He pulled away to scowl. You never considered you'd get to see so many expressions in the span of your first day of dating. It almost made you proud. âTOO FAST?!?â
You swallowed, feeling like a spouse that forgot the other's birthday. He was acting as if you had said something outrageous. âUhh⊠it's literally been a few hours. Plus, I need to check on my roblox games. Login streaks are the only achievement you need, am I right? Haha...â You awkwardly laughed while his expression remained unwavering. "Just kidding... I'm actually not that good but now I'm addicted, so..."
He opened his mouth but quickly closed it. What a tragic loser. (He can fix you. He will eventually!) He was always such a patient personâthat was what the others told him. He was a good listener. A good comforter. Able to keep his mask of empathy and smiles. But with you⊠He felt selfish. Not really interested in what you wanted or if you felt overwhelmed. It was wrong of him; he understood that, yet at the same time, he couldn't bother to keep up his act.Â
You went rambling on about your games. The daily logins, the online friends you had, the events... He bit his lip, holding back from screaming how many long, torturous months he stalked you, the illegal things he did in your name to fill the dark hole in his heart, and how exhausted he felt even after you believed him. You took your phone out of your pocket, his eyes sending jealous daggers to the device. Seriously? His competition was a machine?
"I'm not, like, gonna take long. I just... need to play for five minutes. If you don't mind..."
Of course he minded. What about his kisses? Your attention?!? He had a habit of not speaking his mind, and it would take practice to break the reinforced manner. Since you liked playing so much, he settled for a mind game. Something he quite liked doing to others when he felt bored. Something he had gotten really good at over the years. This time he'd take his performance up a notch.Â
Tears welled up in his eyes, his hands leaving yours cold as he sat to the side. He could see the disappointment in your body language, your fingertips tightening their grip on the phone. He was quite good at picking up things like that. In a slumped position, he tilted his head down, blinking owlishly. Pitiful droplets running down his cheeks. He sniffled, âI humiliated myself. In front of everyone I knew. Are you saying it was not enough? That I am not enough?â
Your heart dropped when you saw him cry because of you. He looked beautiful doing anything. The mascara running down his perfect skin, how he chewed on his rosey lips and fidgeted with his long, flexible fingersâyou almost forgot to respond. âUh, what? No. No, I wasn't suggesting⊠What? I... Shit, my death count...â
His horrible desperation didn't take long to come out. Arms grabbing your shoulders, shoving you down, turning off the phone and throwing it across the room. "Hey! What the fuck? My precious phone..."
The longer he waited, the more impatient he got. He laid down beside you, burning his eyes into your avoidant one. You made him feel unlike his usual self; he didn't like it. Having to beg and cry for a simple touch was new. You had some nerve, playing hard to get when you were⊠YOU.
âWhy do you treat the only guy who will ever love you this way? Why can't you play with me instead, darling...? I can be far more entertaining for you. I'm yours too.â He whispered while tugging on your collar, getting frustrated by how you kept looking away. âPlease⊠Please look at me⊠Please just f-fucking look at me already!â
Finally, you made eye contact, his high-pitched tone grabbing your attention. He was crying againâgenuinely this time. Not like you could tell the difference. âYou swear now? I like it.â You joked, face flushed. He buried his face in your chest, pressing his body against yours and sobbing pathetically.Â
You exhaled, hearing the echoing drumbeat of your heart. Your breath shaky when you felt just how soft his hair was. Running your fingers through his feathery hair, never much of a comforter. You were starting to learn from this recurrent event. âShit. It's okay⊠We can go back to, um, what we were doing, y-yeah? Cause we're actually dating, heh. Dating. Funny word.âÂ
Shivers violently penetrated your body when his lips crashed into yours in a heated kiss. What was this guy's problem? One moment he acted like that perfect gentleman, and the next like some sort of needy dog. His lips moved desperately with yours; his tongue plunging in your mouth to lick and taste everywhere. His hand around your wrist, assisting you to stroke his hot, toned body under his clothes. Whining, âYeah, yeah, don't stop, please⊠It feels sososo good. Please. I need more, more, more, more⊠I love this. I love you!âÂ
âHuh? S-sorry? What did youâŠâ The room was spinning, your words slurring as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Clumsily and hurried. His skin feverish to touch, rubbing and pushing his lower half against yours absentmindedly. Your attention was drawn downwards, distracted, struggling to think about the words he whimpered before. "I'm literally gonna pass out. After all the late nights watching hentai, I get to see a real-"
He cut you off with another kiss, not happy with being reminded of how you liked a lot of fictional characters. If it couldn't be helped, he merely had to distract youâputing your hand on his nicely-shaped ass and hope you get the gist and squeeze. Noisy groans and moans filling the small room while he shared his spit with yours. He knew you read smut from your phone activity, and he wanted to play the part for you. Make you feel so unbelievably good, you'd get addicted just like he was. That way you'd never go back to your stupid intelligent box.
"Can I continue rubbing my c-cock against you...? Pretty please? See this power over me, darling...? It's all for you. I need you. I have never felt so ha... hard. Nngh! Please, let me..."
He placed your leg over his hip to find a better, satisfying angle. Moving faster and faster when you nodded. Repeatedly saying your name like a prayer, whispering how close he was, climaxing right after you. The wet part of your fronts still rubbing against eachother after coming. Panting against your lips, he licked up the drool at the corner of your mouth. The heat was too much. The pleasure was too much.
His face buried back in your neck, holding you tightly, content and pleased. He would've loved to do more, perhaps undress you, feel your unclothed chest against his, see what you hide underneath your baggy dark clothes. The thought of it already exciting him. But when he looked back up, you were unconscious.
#yandere#desperate yandere#yandere oc#dom reader#male yandere#pathetic men#pathetic yandere#sub yandere#popular yandere#male yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere boy#male yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x you#loser reader
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httpsserene's F1 Kinktober '23 | 1K Special â Track Limits

summary: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things.
àŒàż âč Ë. the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!
huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)
read the rest of the f1 kinktober uploads here. read the rest of the track limits series here.
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corruption kink â đđ„. đđ & đŠđŻ. đ charles leclerc x max verstappen x fem!black!reader 8k words. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex.

itâs late. youâve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. youâre standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.
this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. theyâve been gone for a triple-header, and you havenât been able to orgasm once in the near month theyâve been gone. youâve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and youâre definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).
the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that youâre ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. youâve been dating them for two years now, and youâre afraid that theyâre getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, youâre also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really areâtheyâll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know thatâs outrageous and never going to happen. theyâre the sweetest boys youâve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and theyâve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that thereâs nothing wrong with that, and that theyâre willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. soâof course you know that they wonât be assholes about your innocenceâitâs just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying youâre ready.
you make a deal with yourself. if you canât manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, youâll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kiddingâyouâre going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.
you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated âsongs iâd like to be railed toâ playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left.Â
they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, âyou are sure that you donât want to come with us? for at least one of the races? weâll be gone for almost aââÂ
âyes, cha. iâm sure,â you cut him off with a firm nod, âlemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?â
charles frowned at max who laughedâlike he wasnât the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset âhmphâ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. âoh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,â charles smirked down at you, âi am leaving for so long, and thatâs the goodbye kiss youâre leaving me with? no, i do not think so.âÂ
you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, âcâmere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.â
you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.
you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweaterâwell, maxâs sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like.Â
you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasnât laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.
max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charlesâ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charlesâ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charlesâ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.
you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesnât let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of maxâs hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and maxâs presence is pushed to the back of your mind.
you didnât register maxâs hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.
your eyes flew open, and maxâs hand was buried in charlesâ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles lookedâyou wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.
you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and youâre shocked at how wet youâve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.
now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. âoh, you know better than to tease me charlieâŠâ he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charlesâ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing.Â
âand youâre also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isnât that right, schatje?â he directs at charles. maxâs other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasnât squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.
the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charlesâ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasnât behind you, you wouldâve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasqueâs throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss.Â
your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.
charlesâcompletely desperateâwhined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. maxâs other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charlesâ, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control.Â
the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.
eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. maxâs hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall.Â
his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as wellâit probably doesnât help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn onâ, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can.Â
your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing.Â
thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath.Â
the multiple post-sex facetimes youâve gotten from the two when theyâre across the world always starts with max softly speaking, âiâve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.â and the phone is passed to charles, whoâs voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what heâs attempting to say.
youâre starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.
you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimesâyou even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other.Â
the sound of maxâs constant praises of charles being âso good for him,â and charlesâs constant stream of âthank you, thank you, maxyâ has you losing all train of thought.
you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, youâve tried it several times this month and itâs failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and itâs tons better. you canât stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charlesâ face.Â
even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits youâve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and allâare playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises.Â
the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling thatâs escaped you for a month, itâs returning, you can finally come.Â
you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighsâif anything, itâs just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, youâre too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.
but then, a minute passes and you still havenât fallen over the precipice. itâs right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you canât fucking feel it.Â
your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.
you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. youâve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.
after youâve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.
fuck.
a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasqueâs. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, âweâre supposed to surprise her by being early, chaâmaybe we shouldâve let the catâs know when we called earlier today?â they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats wonât run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, âthey are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.â
max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, âi think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?â the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath.Â
but tonight, they donât hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. itâs rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide.Â
charles questions, âmaybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.â
max snorts disbelievingly, âwhen has she ever gone to bed when weâve told her to,â he starts, âsheâs probably just in the bathroom or something.â
the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still havenât come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom.Â
max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that youâre nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.
max jumps, âshit!â and charles flinches, âoh, what the fuck!â
your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. âoh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?â max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after heâs deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. âsheâs absolutely frightening, max, canât you tell?â he teases back, defending you jokingly.Â
max hums, âdefinitely. where were you hiding, baby?â
you freeze for second as you pull away from charlesâ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, âu-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,â you nod firmly, to fully convince them.
the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, ââŠâŠ.okay, i guess?â max follows up with a sarcastic, âyeahâŠ.we definitely believe you!â
you narrow your eyes at him, âare you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie aboutââ
charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, âwere you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.â
you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but itâs already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, âyes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.â
you shift uncomfortably, âyes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,â you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, âi was just overreacting anyways, it doesnât matter.â
max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, âhey, donât be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.â the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and donât attempt to push you any further, but thereâs an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they wonât let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.
âim so tired, okay? iâve been trying for ages, ages, and i canât get there! everytime i try, i-i-itâs like iâm right thereâright there! and then it never comes! itâs torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesnât even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel goodâand now whatâs the point?! i donât even wanna try again if iâm just going to beââ
âwoah, woah, woah.â max cuts you off, âwhat are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try andâ" you interrupt, âNO! i havenât came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!â
charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, theyâre shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if youâve been findingâŠreliefâfor lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any âexplicitâ words with youâ you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that youâve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questionsâwhich there would be nothing wrong with, theyâd be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. itâs a seductive thought, the fact that youâre untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. theyâve been praying for the day youâd be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago.Â
you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, âi donât know what to do, maxy! iâve been doing the same thing, and itâs NEVER failed me before. itâs cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did itâif i did the exact same things iâve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, iâd rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery addressââ
charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, âmmm, weâre home now, mon ange. thereâs no need to run in the streets nakedââ âdefinitely not,â max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like heâs not just as jealous as max), âor buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,â you gasp softly, âespecially when youâve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?â
a questioning sound slips from your lips, âhm? whatâs edging? i just havenât,â your voice drops to a whisper, âcum.â max thinks that heâs seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charlesâs chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly youâve been doing to yourself. heâs going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.
âedging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. itâs called that because you are kept âon the edge.â you can do it to yourself or with others,â max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone.Â
a pout lowers your lips, âwho would enjoy that? it feels terrible.â
max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, âyou know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,â charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, âanyways, you may find that you enjoy it when itâs done properlyâwith people who are experienced enough to make sure youâre feeling good and keep you feeling good⊠and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?â max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.
charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after heâs done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.
âliefje,â max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, âthere is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.â
the room is silent as the three of you digest maxâs spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that youâll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or cocâbut, thatâs not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; theyâre not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sexâor plainly put, they can start tainting you.
you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick âaht aht,â âthat wonât do, liefje, i need verbal confirmationâwords, please.â
ây-you canâŠyou can help s-show and teach me how toâŠhow to feel good. i am ready to haveâŠ,â your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting maxâs straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, âi am ready for us to haveâiâm ready for you to fuck me.â
max wasnât exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, âplease?â charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking outâhe has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.
max rumbles in satisfaction, âsee, that wasnât so hard, was it pretty girl? weâll work on that confidence of yours for sureâbut, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why donât you tell our girl the first two?â
ânumber one, always answer our questions with words; if you donât, weâll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and weâll stop what weâre doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,â charles answers assuredly.
you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, âi mean, yes!â
max praises you, âyouâre already doing so good for us,â he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, âyou wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?â your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.
âwell, you remember how i said my usual method wasnât working anymore? i wasnât lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillowâand i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didnât spill juice on itâŠi kinda, spilled on it.â
charlesâ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesnât know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, âand i i-i didnât even get to, yâ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anywayâŠand i canât really control it, but if you guys donât like it i can try andââ
âNO!â âPLEASE DONâT!â
you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.
âplease, donât, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i arenât ever going to hate whatâs between your legs, or what comes from there,â charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state âwait. didâŠdid you have a chance to change?â you hum a little âmm-mmâ glancing down at yourself still clad in maxâs sweater and cotton panties, âuhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it soâsorry, iâm not a little more presentableââ
âare you wearing the same panties, mon ange?â
you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. âmhm, yeah,â you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.
âcan i,â charles takes a deep breath, âcan i touch you, mon coeur?â
you squeak, âyes please, charlie.â
max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max canât help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in aweâand he canât wait anymore.
max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, âschatje, can i?â you let out a breathy âyeah,â and max doesnât hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.
âliefje,â max starts, âwalk with me to the bed, please.â max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few stepsâcharles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths âcanât blame herâ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, âcâmere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.â
you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like heâs going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, whoâs now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how theyâve already swelled from maxâs abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them.Â
your hips jump forward against maxâs, and he canât stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charlesâ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, âs-sorryââ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, âdonât apologize for that. you feel good, youâre allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.âÂ
âyes, max,â you answer, even though he didnât ask a question.
âoh, youâre such a good girl for us, liefje,â he tests. and his instincts didnât fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.
he turns towards charles, âyeah, that works doesnât it, cha?â charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, âalright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?â
you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a âyes, max.â
he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, âiâm not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.â it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. âtonight, neither one of us is going to make love to youââ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that youâd tell them you were ready, and then youâd get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and heâs letting you down slowlyâ
âhey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,â charles calls out to you worriedly, heâs experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.
max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, ânot tonight. weâve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. itâs late, and iâm sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,â you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, âbut, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. youâve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: youâll get off by riding my thigh.â
charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but youâre disappointment doesnât completely fade away. âhow is that any different from riding the pillow? itâs the same thing.â charles laughs shakily, âoh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.â
you shrug, and agree, âfine. how do iâŠ.uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?â
charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from maxâs whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of maxâs jean-clad thigh, a soft âohâ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; youâre ridiculously sensitive, theyâll have to see if thatâs your natural state or if itâs just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, âiâm going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?â
âmmm, yeahâthat felt really good, i want more,â you speak timidly.
âgood,â charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against maxâs thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quickâhe wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charlesâ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, âwhat are you supposed to do, baby?â
âmore-ah, please, charlie,â you moan shakily. charles smirks, âlook at you, still using your manners like a good girlââ a louder moan echoes, âokay, okay, mon coeur. iâll get you there, iâll get you to cum like you need, okay? iâll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?â
you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that heâs going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell youâre hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once heâs sure youâve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind andâŠand youâre feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charlesâ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes.Â
you cry out, itâs a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know whatâs best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you donât run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charlesâ shirt for support, and the other falls to maxâs, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. maxâs grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.
âdoing so good for us, pretty girl.â
âyeah, baby, thatâs it. take what you need.â
âdonât be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.â
âjust like that, oh! look at that, youâve leaked all over his thigh,â charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. âoh, yeah. look at that, baby,â max pats on the side of your face, and you canât even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and youâll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, âdonât be embarrassed, liefje. i canât wait until i can taste it straight from the source,â he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste.Â
you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ahâs, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. youâre so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.
âi wasnât joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you wonât be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.â
charles pulls off of maxâs fingers and adds, âi need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i donât think sheâll be able to handle that many.â
âyes, she can. sheâs such a good girl for us, sheâd let us keep going until we tell her when sheâs done.â
âmmm, yeahâsheâs right there, look at that cute little face sheâs making.â
âher pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.â
âthinkin iâll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dickââ
what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max canât bring himself to muffle it even though itâs the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into maxâs chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.
max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when youâre still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.
you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of maxâs neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, âdrink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.â after slowly draining Ÿ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, âthank you, thank you, thank youââ
and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, âno, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.â you hum, whispering out, âi love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.âÂ
they both respond with resounding âi-love-youâs back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep.Â
âiâve never felt this good before from an orgasm,â you start, âi wannaâi wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?â. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, âyou guys can take showers now, iâll probably be asleep before you come back.â after making sure youâre truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the worldâs speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner.Â
shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, âare we sure that weâre the ones corrupting her and sheâs not corrupting us? because, iâve almost came in my pants three times tonight.â
max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, âi will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charlesâŠiâm pretty sure i did come in my pants.â
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#f1 smut#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#max verstappen#max verstappen smut#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#lestappen#charles leclerc x female reader#max verstappen x female reader#charles leclerc x black!reader#max verstappen x black!reader#poly!formula 1#poly f1#f1 x reader#f1 x black!reader#f1 x female reader#formula 1 x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#max verstappen fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fanfiction#sereneâs chapters.#sereneâs fave.#ââËïœĄâ. series special: formula 1#⥠àŒ*.ïŸ love interest: cl.#⥠àŒ*.ïŸ love interest: mv.#httpss :// kinktober 23
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SUTURES & SCARS part 4 â« jeon jungkook

CONTAINS: medical!au, surgeon!jungkook x surgeon!reader, slow burn, teasing, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, fighting turned bonding, past and present love, fluff & angst :)
NOTE: thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoy it!! this work is not revised, and english is not my first language. this is the FINAL part!!!!
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taglist đ©ș @senaqsstuff @jjkluver7 @lovingkoalaface @khadeeeeej @pipipipiiiii @jungkooksmytype @jkxlvrr @whoa-jo @anemonatae @iviamagatitos @nerdycheol @thelilbutifulthings @banana-creampie @beomluvrr @user-190811 @mar-lo-pap @jiminismine4ever @boringmichelle @marilo11 @jenniebyrubies @kooeuphoria @rayyrayy10 @moonchild1 @littlestarstinyseven @tinyxrose @hagridshaircare <3
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.
It was an ordinary day in the hospital, with Jungkook in the middle of a complex procedure. The sterile scent of the operating room lingered in the air as he focused on the delicate task at hand, his steady hands guiding the scalpel with precision.
But in the midst of it, a slight distractionâa brief lapse in concentrationâcaused the blade to nick his hand. It wasnât a deep cut, but it was enough to draw blood, a crimson line marking his skin.
He winced slightly, clenching his fist before his mind could register the pain. He continued working for a moment longer, trying to ignore the stinging sensation, but it became too much.
You, noticing the small cut as it began to drip, quickly stepped in. Your presence was always a balm, calming and gentle. "Hey, let me help you," you said, voice soft yet firm.
You moved to his side, gently taking his hand, guiding it away from the bloodied surface. Jungkook froze, his usual composure faltering as you cleaned the wound, her touch tender and practiced.
Your soft fingers brushed against his skin, a contrast to the clinical environment surrounding you both, and for a moment, he forgot about the injury. The proximity, the warmth of your touch, made his heart beat a little faster than it should have.
"You're bleeding," you murmured, eyes focused on the wound as you carefully applied the antiseptic. He flinched, not from the sting, but from the vulnerability that seemed to seep into his chest. He didnât want you to see him like thisâweak, exposed.
âIâm fine,â Jungkook said, pulling his hand away abruptly. His voice was colder than he intended, his walls quickly rising again.
You looked up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. âJungkookâ"
âI said Iâm fine,â he cut you off, more harshly than he meant. The words came out sharper than necessary, and for a moment, there was a dangerous tension between you.
His chest tightened. He didnât know why it was so difficult to let you in. Why it felt like every time you tried to offer your kindness, he had to push you away. He had to keep everyone at armâs length. It was safer that way.
He couldnât lose anyone else.
The memory hit him like a sudden wave, catching him off guard. He was back in the hospital, but this time, the room was smaller, quieter.
It was a six years ago, when Dasom, a little girl from his internship, was in recovery. She was only eleven, with big brown eyes that never stopped sparkling, even in her hospital bed. Jungkook had always had a soft spot for her, especially after sheâd asked him to play with her Bunny teddy bear while she was recovering from a surgery.
He had sat on the edge of her bed, Bunny in hand, telling her stories, anything to distract her from the pain.
"I promise you, Dasom," Jungkook had said, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "Iâll do everything I can for you to get better. Youâll be out of here in no time, and weâll go get ice cream, okay?"
Dasomâs small hands gripped the stuffed animal, her face lit up with a smile that made his heart ache.
âReally?â she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her dimples deepening as she gave him a shy but hopeful smile. The small gesture, so innocent and full of trust, made his heart tighten.
The sight of her, so genuine and unguarded, left him momentarily speechless. It was a simple smile, but in that moment, it felt like she was asking for more than just a promiseâshe was asking him to believe in something again.
âReally,â Jungkook promised.
But despite his best efforts, Dasom had passed away a few weeks later. The memory haunted him, leaving him with a feeling he couldn't shakeâa deep-rooted fear of losing anyone again.
The memory snapped Jungkook back to the present, his breath coming in short gasps as he stood there, staring at you, trying to push away the pain that suddenly swelled in his chest.
"I'm not someone who can..." He trailed off, his voice hoarse. "I'm not someone who can let anyone in."
You didnât say anything for a long moment, watching him closely. You didnât push, but didn't walk away either.
And for the first time, Jungkook felt something shift within him. Maybe it was the cut. Maybe it was the tenderness in your touch. But something about your presence made it harder to keep his walls up, harder to ignore the ache in his chest.
He didnât know how to make sense of it, but as you quietly finished tending to his wound, Jungkook realized that the fear of losing someone was never going to go away. Not until he allowed himself to love again.
The bar pulsed with energy, a mix of laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses filling the space as people moved around in loose, easy circles. The warm glow of the hanging lights reflected off the sleek wooden counters, casting a golden hue over everything. You werenât sure why you had agreed to come.
Maybe because Aerum had insisted, her texts borderline demanding, or maybe because a small part of you needed the distractionâthe chance to drown out the lingering sting of earlier.
The memory of Jungkook pulling away, his voice colder than it should have been, still echoed in your mind.
Aerum looped her arm through yours, her eyes alight with excitement as she tugged you toward the bar. âCome on, this is Chanwookâs big night! We need to start celebrating properly.â
Chanwook, the owner of the place and Aerumâs friend, was already behind the bar, expertly mixing drinks with a playful grin. âYou made it!â he cheered, sliding two cocktails toward you and Aerum. âI was worried youâd bail.â
You gave a small smile, accepting the drink but not immediately taking a sip. âWouldnât miss it.â
Before you could settle into the atmosphere, Aerumâs eyes flickered over your shoulder, and her lips curled into something unmistakably mischievous. âWell, well. Look who just walked in.â
You didnât have to turn around to know who it was. You could feel it. That strange, electric awareness that always seemed to settle in your chest when Jungkook was near.
Still, you turned, your fingers tightening around the glass as your eyes landed on him. He looked effortlessly good, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted black button-up with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms. He had that usual air of confidence, his posture relaxed as he talked to his friends, but you caught the way his jaw tensed slightly when his gaze swept over you.
Aerum nudged you. âOh, this is getting good.â
Coco leaned in, her grin conspiratorial. âOkay, spill. Thereâs no way something isnât going on between you two.â
âThere isnât,â you muttered, bringing your drink to your lips.
Aerum scoffed. âPlease. The tension could be cut with a scalpel.â
You huffed, shaking your head, but before you could protest further, Jungkookâs friends made their way over. That meant he wasnât far behind.
âDidnât expect to see you here,â Jungkook said when he finally stood near you, his voice even, unreadable.
You took a breath before looking at him. âAerum dragged me out,â you admitted, trying to keep your tone light, as if the memory of earlier wasnât still lodged in your chest.
Aerum, completely oblivious to the undercurrent between you, beamed at Jungkook. âAnd what about you? Didnât think this was your scene.â
Jungkook exhaled a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck. âChanwookâs an old friend.â
Chanwook leaned on the counter, wiggling his brows. âYou two should really stop dancing around each other and just kiss already.â
You nearly choked on your drink. Jungkook stiffened beside you. Aerum, delighted, clasped her hands together. âOh my god, yes! Just imagine, it could be the romance of the century.â
You forced a smile, willing yourself to act unbothered. âYou guys have wild imaginations.â
Jungkook cleared his throat, shifting slightly. âYeah. Wild.â
Chanwook and Aerum exchanged a look, undoubtedly about to keep pushing, but you were already reaching for your drink, needing something to do with your hands.
The worst part? You knew they werenât entirely wrong. There was something thereâsomething unsaid, something unresolved. And the way Jungkookâs gaze lingered on you, even when he looked away, told you he felt it too.
The teasing was relentless. Chanwook and Aerum kept nudging, throwing sly glances, and making offhand comments about something between him and you. Jungkook barely reacted, keeping his expression unreadable, but every single remark chipped away at the already fragile barrier between them.
He knew you were trying to deflect, dodging their comments with humor and indifference, but he could tell. The way you shifted in your seat, the way you kept avoiding his eyesâyou felt the weight of the moment just as much as he did.
And maybe thatâs why he said it.
"Alright," he interrupted, setting his drink down with a soft clink. His gaze locked onto yours, challenging. "Letâs settle this with a game of darts."
Your brows lifted. "What?"
"You keep avoiding the conversation," he said casually, "so letâs make this interesting." He grabbed two darts from the holder near the bar and held one out to you. "Loser buys drinks."
You stared at him, lips pressed together as if debating whether to take the bait. Chanwook let out an exaggerated gasp. "Ohhh, now this is a challenge I can get behind."
Aerum smirked. "Careful, heâs competitive."
Jungkook just tilted his head slightly, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Unless you're scared."
That did it.
You snatched the dart from his hand, stepping toward the dartboard with a confidence he knew was at least partly for show. "You wish."
The first few throws were playful, filled with teasing remarks and small victories. You were better than he expected, but Jungkook had always been calculated. He watched how you lined up your shots, how you readjusted after each throw.
When he landed a near-perfect bullseye, he heard you scoff. "Show-off."
He grinned. "Told you I was competitive."
But the teasing did nothing to distract from the real tensionâthe one that had nothing to do with darts and everything to do with what had happened earlier. When the game ended, you suddenly stepped back, your shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. "I need some air," you murmured, already moving toward the exit.
Jungkook hesitated. He didnât have to follow you. He could let you go, let the night smooth over whatever remained raw between them.
But he couldnât.
So he followed.
Outside, the air was cool against his skin, a welcome contrast to the heat still lingering in his chest. The noise from inside the bar faded slightly, replaced by the hum of the city beyondâthe distant rush of cars, the occasional burst of laughter from passersby.
You stood near the railing of the outdoor patio, fingers gripping the metal as if grounding yourself. The glow from the streetlights cast soft shadows across your face, highlighting the tension in your jaw, the way your shoulders rose and fell with each controlled breath.
When you heard him approach, you sighed. "You didnât have to follow me, Jungkook."
"I know."
You turned then, arms crossing over your chest. "Then why did you?"
He swallowed, his hands slipping into his pockets. He had no easy answer.
You exhaled sharply, your voice quieter now. "What is this? You push me away earlier, but now youâreâwhat? Playing games? Flirting like nothing happened?"
Jungkook tensed. He had pushed you away. And yet here he was, unable to stay away. "I donât know how to do this," he admitted, voice lower, rougher.
Your brows furrowed, frustration flickering across your face. "Do what?"
He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "I donât know how to want someone without being afraid of losing them." Your expression softened, but you didnât speak. You were waiting.
So he told you.
Friday Night, 20:06 p.m. Six years ago.
The hospital smelled the same. Antiseptic, clean, but beneath it, the sickly trace of something that lingeredâsomething that made Jungkook's stomach twist. He had been here before.
Not just tonight. Not just with Dasom.
Before.
His hands curled into fists at his sides as he stared at the bed, at the lifeless body of the girl who had once smiled at him like he could fix everything. Like he could save her. But he couldn't. Just like he hadnât been able to save him.
His brother. It had been a case of malpractice. A rushed surgery that should have never happened the way it did. He still remembered the phone callâthe way his hands trembled when he gripped the steering wheel, speeding toward the hospital as if sheer will alone could turn back time.
"There were complications," they had told him. "We did everything we could." But it hadn't been enough. The sight of his brotherâstill, quiet, wrongâwas burned into his memory, a wound that never fully closed.
And now, Dasom.
Jungkook's fingers twitched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. She had been too young. Too alive to be reduced to a name on a death certificate. He had promised her."Youâll be out of here in no time."
Lies. The weight of it all pressed against his ribs, suffocating. Behind him, he felt your presenceâhesitant, careful. You didnât speak, but he knew what you wanted to say. That it wasnât his fault. That he had done everything he could. That sometimes, medicine wasnât enough.
But he couldnât hear it. Not now. Not when grief was a raw, pulsing thing in his chest. His voice came out rough, almost unsteady. âYou donât know what itâs like,â he said quietly, his voice rough, almost shaky. âI promised her she was to live more years.â
Jungkook swallowed hard, forcing himself to look at her one last time before stepping away.
âI... I didnât know how to handle it. How to...â His voice faltered, and for a second, he gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile. It was almost like a quiet admission, an offering of the piece of him that he kept hidden awayâuntouched by his usual walls.
And without another word, he walked past you, leaving you standing in the cold sterility of the room, watching as he disappeared down the hallway. Jungkook barely remembered walking out of the hospital that night. He only knew that by the time he reached his car, his hands were shaking.
The fluorescent lights in the parking lot buzzed faintly, casting a cold, artificial glow over the pavement. He gripped the edge of the car door, inhaling sharply, but the air felt too thinâlike no matter how much he tried to breathe, it wasnât enough.
His chest was tight. His head pounded.
He pressed his palms against his eyes, willing the image of her small, lifeless frame to disappear, but it was burned into himâjust like the memory of his brother. The same helplessness. The same unbearable weight pressing down on him.
He had promised. Again. And again, he had failed.
Jungkook exhaled shakily, fingers clenching into fists at his sides. He didnât know if he was angry or just empty. Maybe both. Maybe neither. When he finally slid into the driverâs seat, he just sat there.
He had to stop this.
Stop caring. Stop hoping.
Because the moment he let someone in, the universe took them away.
Jungkook inhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling with the weight of the words he had been holding back. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, strained with the ghosts of the past. "They both trusted me. And I still lost them."
You didnât look away, your eyes soft but unwavering, understanding blooming within you like a quiet, delicate flower. His wordsâhis guiltâcut deep, and you could feel the rawness in his tone, a wound that hadnât healed, not even after all this time.
"Jungkook," you whispered, stepping closer to him, the distance between you closing with each step. Your hand lifted, not with urgency, but with a quiet certainty that you were there for him. Gently, hesitantly, you reached for his hand. But you didnât pull, you simply held. "You were young. It wasnât your fault."
His laugh, bitter and fractured, echoed in the stillness between you. It was a sound filled with so much anger and sorrow, as though the weight of the world had been poured into that single sound. "Maybe. But it still felt like it was."
His eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, you saw itâthe fear, the unspoken pain that had been building up inside him all these years. The walls he had built, not just around everyone else, but around himself.
"And the worst part?" His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and unfiltered. "I can feel myself doing the same thing with you."
Your breath hitched, the words sinking into your chest, each syllable like a gentle, but insistent tug on your heart. He had been carrying this fear for so longâthe fear of loving, of losingâand now he was finally allowing himself to voice it. You could see it in his eyesâthe battle, the internal war between wanting to hold onto you, and wanting to push you away to protect himself.
"I want you," he confessed, the words escaping from him in a way that made the air feel thick with emotion. "But the idea of losing youâof watching you slip through my fingers the way they didâscares the hell out of me."
His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his vulnerability. You could feel itâthe fear that had gripped him so tightly he hadnât known how to let go. You took a step forward, your heart aching for him.
Silence stretched between you, but this time, it wasnât cold. It was real. It was the kind of silence where everything unspoken was clearer than any words could ever be.
Then, your hand, still gently holding his, tightened ever so slightly, as if to ground him in the moment. You didnât pull away. You didnât need to.
"Jungkook," you murmured, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you, "Iâm not going anywhere."
And as you spoke those words, you saw something shift in his eyes. The walls he had built were still there, but they were starting to crack. Just a little.
He didnât respond immediately, but his gaze softened, a mixture of longing and uncertainty swirling in his dark eyes. The silence stretched between you both, thick with unspoken emotions, until it felt like the air itself was charged with the weight of it all.
Then, without a word, he stepped closer. The warmth of his body was intoxicating, the quiet tension in the space between you both palpable.
And when his hand gently cupped your cheek, you didnât pull away. You didnât even think about it.
His lips brushed against yours tentatively at first, like he was testing the waters, unsure of how much he could trust this moment. But the second your lips met, the hesitation melted away, and it was as if the world had shifted.
His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his kiss deepening with a sudden urgency that took your breath away.His lips moved against yours with a fervor that matched the storm inside him, the one heâd kept hidden for so long.
You responded, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your touch. The kiss was messy, passionate, rawâa release of everything that had been building between you both. When you finally broke away, breathless and with your heart pounding, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes.
"You donât have to be afraid," you whispered, your voice shaky but full of conviction.
Jungkookâs lips suddenly curled into a smirk, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he couldnât help himself. His eyes sparkled, a playful glint returning as the vulnerability faded into something lighter.
âYou know,â he said, his voice dropping to a teasing tone, âI think you just broke down my walls... with one kiss. I guess I owe you a medal or something.â
The weeks that followed were a delicate danceâslow, tentative, yet filled with a quiet kind of hope. Jungkook had stopped keeping as much distance between you. Slowly, bit by bit, he let you in, though the scars of his past still clung to him like a second skin. But each time he pulled away, you were there.
You werenât rushing him. You werenât demanding anything from him. And in turn, he started to trust that you wouldnât leave, no matter how hard it got.
For you, the days felt lighter. You could feel the walls between you both begin to melt. The teasing, the moments of playful banter, the tenderness in the way he looked at youâit was all there, quietly building, each small interaction a thread pulling you both closer.
But even with that progress, neither of you could fully escape the shadows of the past. Both of you carried your fears, your doubts. And it wasnât long before those fears collided head-on, threatening to tear apart the fragile trust you had worked so hard to build.
The emergency came without warning. A patientâyoung, much too youngâwas rushed into the ER, clinging to life after a brutal accident. The severity of the injuries required immediate intervention, and the pressure in the room was palpable as everyone scrambled to stabilize the patient.
Jungkook worked quickly, his hands steady and efficient, but you could see the tension in his posture. You knew him better now. You saw the tightness in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched whenever things got chaotic.
This wasnât just about the medical procedure anymore. This was about fear. The same fear that had haunted him after his brotherâs death. The fear that, despite all his skills, despite all his efforts, he wouldnât be able to save the person lying on the table in front of him.
"Jungkook," you said, your voice calm but firm, reaching out to him. "Focus. Youâve got this. Weâve got this."
He barely registered your words at first, but when you placed your hand on his arm, grounding him, he blinked and looked at you, his eyes wide, filled with that same fear that had haunted him for so long. The same fear that had made him push you away.
"I can't," he whispered, his voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of everything. "I can't lose another person."
Your heart ached for him, for the pain heâd carried in silence for all these years. But you refused to let him drown in it.
"Look at me," you said, your voice steady, your grip on his arm firm. "Youâre not alone. Not now. Not ever." You paused, your eyes locking with his. "We do this together. Weâve come this far. Trust me."
For a moment, he just stared at you, the walls in his eyes crumbling just enough to let the raw vulnerability show through. And then, something shifted. He nodded, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly, the tension easing out of his frame. His hand found yours, a silent promise of partnership, of trust.
The minutes stretched, but you both held onâfocused, determined. And when the patient stabilized, when the sound of their steady heartbeat filled the room, it felt like a weight had been lifted. The relief was overwhelming, a flood of emotion that nearly knocked the wind out of you both.
Jungkook exhaled deeply, a shaky breath that he had been holding in for what felt like an eternity. His fingers squeezed yours, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, there was no hesitation in his touch.
"We did it," he murmured, looking at you with something deeper in his eyes now. It wasnât just gratitude. It was trustâpure and unshaken.
You smiled softly, knowing that, in that moment, something had shifted between you two. There was no more fear. No more walls. The trust that had once seemed so fragile was now unbreakable, built on shared pain, growth, and understanding.
"We did," you agreed, your voice soft, but filled with an unspoken promise. You would always be there.
The emotional growth that had started weeks ago had reached its peak. You had both learned the same lessonâtrustâand it had been the foundation of everything that followed.
After the exhausting emergency shift, the quiet buzz of the hospital was replaced by a deep, aching stillness. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving behind a tiredness that settled in their bones. It was the kind of exhaustion that made everything feel heavier, like even the air was too thick to breathe.
"Letâs get some takeout," Jungkook suggested, his voice a little hoarse but still warm. He was leaning against the counter, his fingers running through his hair as if he could erase the weight of the day from his mind.
You nodded, grateful for the suggestion. "I think we both deserve something that doesnât require us to think."
The order was quick, an easy mealâcomfort food to settle the nerves. The two of you sat at the small kitchen table, side by side, the remnants of the long shift still clinging to the edges of the room. There was a silence between you both, but it wasnât awkward.
It was the kind of silence that felt comfortableâlike two people who had been through something together, yet didnât need to say everything out loud to understand.
You noticed Jungkookâs posture had softened, his usual sharp edges now dulled by the quiet moments you shared after the chaos. He seemed lighter, almost like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And thatâs when you saw it. The humor that usually stayed locked behind his professional exterior.
âCareful with that,â you teased as he piled too much food onto his plate, the edge of his grin barely noticeable.
âWhat?â he asked, raising an eyebrow. âYou donât think Iâm capable of handling the challenge of a bigger portion?â
You snorted, catching him off guard. It was rare to see him let his guard down like this. There was a boyish charm in the way his eyes twinkled, in the ease of his laugh, something so refreshingly human and far from the stoic, serious man he usually was.
âIâm just saying," you grinned, leaning forward with a teasing smile. "If you eat like that, you might end up needing an emergency room after dinner.â
Jungkook rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. âI think Iâve seen enough of emergency rooms for one day.â
You chuckled softly, and for the first time in a long while, the weight in the room felt lighter. The exhaustion seemed to melt away as you both fell into a rhythm, talking like two people who had shared something important, something unspoken, but understood.
But as you leaned back in your chair, about to take a bite of your food, you heard the familiar sound of voices approaching the door. Coco, Aerum, and Seo Hana burst into the hospital caffe like a whirlwind, their energy immediately filling the space.
âOh, look at you two,â Coco grinned, her eyes flicking between you and Jungkook as if reading something between the lines. âAll cozy.â
Aerum smirked, crossing her arms. âYeah, you two are practically glowing. Are we sure weâre not interrupting something?â
Seo Hana, always the more blunt one, grinned and pointed directly at you both. âItâs official. You two are definitely dating now, arenât you?â
Your mouth fell open slightly, and you could feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Jungkook, equally caught off guard, blinked at them before finally clearing his throat.
âWhat?â he said, trying to play it cool, but there was an unmistakable softness in his voice now. He reached for his drink, avoiding your gaze for just a moment. âWeâre just⊠eating.â
Coco raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. âUh-huh. Just eating. And sitting together. Not totally obvious at all.â
You could feel the playful teasing in the air, but there was also something elseâsomething comforting in the way your friends seemed to support you both without saying it out loud. It was like they already knew the truth, even if you hadnât fully said it yet.
Jungkook looked at you, eyes soft and warm, and then back at your friends. âYeah, fine. Weâre together. Is that what you want to hear?
You met his eyes, gasping. You definitely didn't talk about that.
Coco let out a satisfied cheer. âFinally! We knew it all along.â
You laughed, the sound bubbling up without any self-consciousness. For the first time in a long time, everything felt rightâlike everything was falling into place.
In that moment, with the warmth of his hand brushing against yours and the world outside fading into nothing, you both understood that what you had built together wasnât something that could easily slip away.
And in the end, that was all that mattered.
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Cheetah


Hello everyone!
So for once this isn't a request, but more something who was walking in my head rent free and I just had to write it.
I don't know a lot about motorcycle to be honest but i made some research, so if there is some incoherence, I'm sorry!
Also I start to translate the English in Spanish before stopping, because in the end almost everyone is supposed to talk in Spanish and I'm really bad at it (I only can command something to eat and drink).
Please let me know what you think about it and enjoy â„
TW : Moto accident, Angst, Injuries and a little bit of autodestruction maybe.
âCome on Cheetah, everyoneâs waiting for you!â
You sigh softly, putting the picture you were looking at in your bag. Itâs a picture of your ex-girlfriend and yourself, during your happy days. Itâs been three months since the breakup and you are still mourning the end of your relationship like it was the first hours. You still feel numb and like someone is constantly crushing your heart in their iron grip. Itâs not getting better, and it probably never will. Ona was, is, the love of your life and itâs just impossible for you to recover from it.
Falling for Ona was easy. You met her when you were both 20, even if you come from Palma de Mallorca and not Barcelona. You are an athlete too, so it wasnât hard to cross her path at one of the Spanish awards. Patri Guijarro was there too and like you she comes from Mallorca, so she introduced you both and the rest is history.
When Ona moved to Manchester, you followed her. You find a team to train your motorcycle and your skills there. You were still young but promising on the circuit and you didnât have trouble finding someone to help you get better. And better you get. Just like Ona in Manchester United, you easily improved your skills and became one of the best in the world. Sure, you were sometimes away from home and Ona for your competitions, but everything was perfect.
When Ona came back to Barcelona, you flow back with her too. Some of your team came with you, some others didnât but you canât hold it against them. You find people to replace them and continue to race on the top of the leader boards.
The breakup didnât come from nowhere, you canât say that. You knew how much Ona was worried when you raced, scared that you hurt yourself. You never had a big injury until now. But just after Christmas, you were involved in an accident and Ona had trouble concentrating on something else than that since that day.
It wasnât your fault honestly; you just werenât able to avoid the motorcycles already lying on the road. So, you made a gliding flight and had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, nothing too serious. But Ona was in Barcelona while you were in Qatar, and it took almost two hours for you to be able to call her, even if you make everything possible to have your phone back.
Thatâs what pushed Ona to break up with you.
âI canât keep focusing on your future death while Iâm in training or supposed to be concentrated on something important, Y/N/N. Iâm so sorry.â was what she told you.
Can you blame her? No. Did she told you it was because she doesnât love you anymore? No. Did you try everything to make her change her mind? Yes. You even told her that you will stop your sport. But sheâs not with you anymore and it hurts like hell.
âHi Cheetah!â make one of your opponents when you arrive in the garage, where the motorcycles are stored.
âHolaâ you mumble back.
Cheetah is your nickname, because of your speed and the feline way you stand on your bike. But itâs especially Onaâs favorite animal. You wonder if sheâs still looking at your race sometimes. Probably not. You never asked Patri who became your friend with the years, the girl never talked about your breakup either. You like it that way.
One hour after, you are on your bike, ready to start your race. Your helmet is a notch off from what security recommends, but you prefer to wear it like that. Ona had forbidden you to do so and you had accepted her request without flinching. But Ona isnât here anymore, and you have no one to care about this.
Well, maybe your brother who is on your team. And probably your parents, but even if you love them, they arenât Ona.
The qualifying rounds put you in fourth place at the start, but after a daring overtaking you manage to gain the third place. The weather is great honestly, a little bit sunny maybe but itâs better than the rain. You are in Italy after all.
The fight for the second place is hard, your opponent always manages to stand in your way to keep you from reaching it. It starts to frustrate you, even if your team keeps telling you in the helmet to take no risks. You donât listen to them, still being careful not to make faults though, you donât want to have any penalty against you.
âLenta, hermanita por favor!â (Slower, my little sister please!)
You hear your brotherâs voice but donât listen to him either. He will probably kill you for it after the race , but if you manage to get the second place, itâs worth it right? Winning is the only thing that you have left. The only thing that makes you feel a little alive.
Thatâs why you donât hesitate to take other risks to be second. Plot twist, you shouldnât have.
Itâs the first time since youâre a teenager that you've lost control of your motorcycle, but itâs a strange feeling. You feel yourself flying and the helmet getting ripped off your head during the crash. After that itâs all black, you just have little moments of consciousness from time to time.
âNo no no no no! ÂĄ Y/N No me hagas esto! Respira por favor!â (Donât do that! Breath please!â)
Thatâs your brother's voice. You donât know where you are, you hear people screaming and probably running next to you. But you are too tired. Falling asleep now probably will help you feel better, right?
âSigue luchando. Piensa en Ona." (Keep fighting. Think about Ona.)
Ona? You think about her every single second of the day. You are surprised by this statement, but it has the advantage of waking you up a little. Your brother usually never mentions your ex-girlfriend, knowing how much the breakup is destroying you.
âAlright we take her to the ambulance, now!â
If you were able, you probably would have rolled your eyes because of the strength that this man screamed with. You are not even able to open your eyes though, and you hate the way you feel your body not responding to what you want. But your head hurts and soon you are asleep again.
The next time you are awake, it was way more quiet. You hear your parents and your brother, but you have to make a big effort to understand what they are saying.
âShe called her name several times in the ambulance, but sheâs asleep sinceâ
Well, thatâs embarrassing. Itâs useless to wonder which name you called, there is only one woman in your head after all.
âDid you call her?â
Your mother.
âNo. Y/N would have probably hated me if I did.â
Is he right? Maybe. Youâll think about it later.
âShe has the right to know how Y/N is.â
Point for your father.
âIâll call Patri instead.â
Well, itâs probably better that way. Patri is one of your best friends and if Ona wants to have news of you, she will ask Patri. But once again, she probably has no interest in your health anymore.
You fall back asleep again soon after that.
Patriâs face is white when she reaches the gym of FC Barcelona Femeni. Itâs not Ona who realized it first, your ex-girlfriend is focused on her exercises next to Mariona.
âPatri you alright?â Pina asks, looking at her friend with worry.
Everyone raises their gaze on the girl, but sheâs only looking at Ona. And Ona knows, right there. She gulps and stands up, her hand shaking.
âWhat happened?â Ona asks quietly.
But Patri takes her by the hand to take her out. She doesnât want to explain to Ona what happened in front of the others. She doesnât know how the younger one will react at the news, and sheâs scared of her reaction to be honest. Every single person in the team knows how much Ona is sad about your breakup, even if sheâs the one who chose to have it that way.
âY/N had an accident during the raceâ Patri starts, looking at Ona with attention. âI donât know what her injuries are or anything else. But she had that awful crash, and they came with the ambulance and those kinds of white curtains.â
Ona knows what the curtains are for. Itâs to protect the dignity of the runner in the case of a serious injury⊠or worse. Very worse. Her face passes from white to green.
âIs there a video from the crash?â
âI donât think itâs a good idea toâŠâ
But Ona doesnât listen. Like you, sheâs stubborn. She wants to know. She needs to know. She doesnât know when the accident happened, but the video of it is easy to find on social media. She doesnât react at all for several seconds and Patri wonders if Onaâs mind crashed, too.
âShe loosened her helmetâ Ona whispers at first.
âWhat?â Patri frowned.
âShe loosened her helmet! She loosened her helmet and now sheâs probably dead!â
Onaâs shouting and Patri prefer that, but itâs surprising. Ona isnât the kind of girl who usually shouts. She puts a comforting hand on Onaâs arm before talking.
âWe donât know that for nowâ she tries, with a comforting voice.
âHavenât you seen the crash? Havenât you seen how hard her head hit the ground? She didnât move after that! At all!â
Patri doesnât know what to answer at that. Onaâs right and she regrets to have informed her so soon, without having news of you. Or your brother, who had kind of a crush for Patri before realizing that sheâs as gay as you are. You still tease him about it years later.
âIâll try to call her brother, ok? But for now, letâs get out of here.â
When you wake up next time, you have enough strength to be able to open your eyes. You donât know what time it is, but the sun is shining behind almost closed blinds. There is someone on a chair next to you, but you are disappointed to realize that itâs only your brother. Not Ona.
âHolaâ he whispers when he realizes that you're awake.
You only answer with a grunt, unable to talk for now. You feel sleepy again, but you want to talk with him a little bit.
âWe are at the hospital. Do you remember what happened?â
You close your eyes briefly to make him understand that you remember. Your throat feels too scratchy to talk for now. Youâll learn later that they have to intubate you to keep you alive.
âYouâre lucky youâre alive, Iâll kill you a second time if you werenât. They want to get you back in Barcelona tonight, are you okay with that?â
You donât answer right away. Why canât they keep you here?
âThe team thought it would be easier to be somewhere where they speak Spanish. And we will be closer to Mama and Papi.â
Your brother seems to understand your questions. Itâs a great thing that you are both so close. You close your eyes again now and he nods before taking your hand in his. You donât really care where you are taking care of after all.
âYou can sleep now. You need to rest to get better, ok?â
You squeeze his finger softly before closing your eyes for good now, falling asleep again. You are still asleep during the transfer to Barcelona and when you wake up again you are in the Spanishâs city hospital.
Once again, itâs your brother who is here when you open your eyes. He changed his clothes but heâs still here, reading a newspaper with his feet on your bed.
âDonât you have a house?â you groan.
He rolls his eyes after having looked at you for two seconds. Maybe to realize that he wasnât dreaming. He threw the journal next to you without putting his feet down, but everything is still blurred.
âI canât read itâ you whisper.
âThe Spanishâ motorcycle prodigy almost died in an awful crash yesterday. Her condition remains alarmingâ your brother read for you.
Heâs angry. You donât answer anything, what should you say anyway? You know that itâs your fault, if you were a little more careful nothing of that would have happened. You know too that you arenât on the point to die, your brother wouldnât have scolded you if that was the case.
âWhat are my injuries?â you ask without looking at him.
He sighs loudly before answering.
âYou have broken ribs, a broken tibia, your cheekbone too, your elbow is in pieces, your shoulder has been dislocated again and you have a massive concussion. They thought that you have something broken in your spine, but itâs just a massive bruise. Oh, and you have other bruises on almost every part of your body, when itâs not burned because of the asphalt. They had to put stitches somewhere on your head and your brow bone too.â
You stay silent for several seconds, completely stunned. These are massive injuries, you know it. It will probably need a lot of time to heal all of them and that means that you will miss the end of the championship. You were in the top 3, and itâs an awful disillusionment for you. You were already picturing yourself on the podium at the end of the season.
âHow many times am I supposed to stay in bed? Before starting my rehab?â
He frowns softly, not expecting this question.
âThey donât know for now if you elbow will be well enough to start racing againâ
âOf course it will beâ you snort.
âNoâ your brother answers. âItâs serious, Y/N. You maybe wonât be able to drive a motorcycle again. On a circuit at least.â
âYou donât understand. I donât have the choice. This is all I have left now.â
Your breakup was awful for you, but it was for your family too. You werenât always careful with you, but Ona pushed you to be reasonable and stayed on the track. Now you donât have anyone to hold you back. Ona was the only one you were listening to. You donât listen to anyone now. Only your Abuela when she emotionally blackmails you. But your loved ones try not to use that card too much to not burn it.
âYou have to stop that. You still have people who care for you. The Oldies do, I do, your friends do. I know that the breakup sucks, but you canât play with your life like you do.â
âPiss offâ is all you mumble back.
Because you know heâs right, but what are you supposed to do now that heâs here with you and you would give ten years of your life to swap him with Ona? He doesnât answer anything, knowing that youâre out of arguments and that you know heâs right.
âDid she⊠Did she call you?â
âShe didnât have toâ he answers after a moment of hesitation. âI called Patri as soon as we were in your hospital room in Italy.â
This hurt a little more, to be honest. You are not aware that Ona was with Patri every time she received a call or a message from your brother. You sight softly before closing your eyes. Your head starts to hurt like hell, which is probably normal for a concussion.
You wake up several hours later and you already know that itâs the night. There isnât any noise coming from outside your room and no light from outside. But there is someone sitting on the chair next to you.
âOna?â
It seems almost impossible, but itâs definitively Ona. You are able to recognize her silhouette in the dark after all these years passed with her. Even if you havenât seen her in the last three months.
âItâs worse than anythingâ she mumbles, looking somewhere near your broken leg.
âWhat?â
âNot knowing how you are. I thought that breaking up with you will help me to stop worrying about your races, but itâs worse every time. I almost called you or messaged you before every race just to hear your voice, but I just couldnât. And then I learned about your accident, and I have to live with the thought that you were dead for several hours.â
She raises her eyes on you, and you have trouble supporting her gaze, even if you are in the dark.
âIâm sorryâ you finally say.
âReally?â
She seems unconvinced and she has every right to be. She knows you, better than anyone.
âWell, Iâm sorry that you were worried because of me. But as you see, Iâm alive.â
She rolls her eyes and lets her back go against the chair she is sitting on. You still feel strange, without knowing if itâs because of the drugs or because you are dreaming. You donât really have anything to lose, so you ask.
âIs it real life?â
Ona looked at you with an obvious surprise on her beautiful face. God you missed her so damn much.
âWhat do you mean?â
âIs it real or am I dreaming?â
âAre you making the move where you ask me if I am an angel?â
You stupidly laugh before regretting it, your ribs protesting hard. Ona seems alarmed when you groan in pain, putting your non-injured hand on it.
âIâm okâ you whisper, taking several small breaths, the big one would have been too hurtful.
âYou are notâ Ona mumbles.
Sheâs right.
âItâs less painful than the thought that I lost you.â
She sighs once again and looks at her fingers before shaking her head softly. You wanted to grab her hand, but sheâs on your bad side and your arm is in that awful cast.
âTell me what I have to do to have a second chance, Oni. Iâll do every single thing youâll ask me. I swear. Pleaseâ you beg when she stays silent for several seconds.
âWhat if I ask you to stop your stupid moto?â
There is a challenge in her voice, and you know why. One time, she told you that sheâs not even sure that if she asks you to choose between her and your sport, youâll choose her. At that time, you didnât know that she was serious, you thought that it was something she wasnât thinking and said due to the fight. How wrong you were.
âIâll do itâ you answer without any doubt.
She seems surprised, looking at you with two big eyes. You have always loved Onaâs eyes, some people said that brown eyes are the most common and expressionless. They never have crossed Onaâs gaze.
âI saw what a life without you is, Ona and I donât want that life. I want you and if I have to stop my sport, Iâll do it if you still want me.â
She sighs and rubs her eyes. She seems tired to be honest, but maybe because itâs the middle of the night and that sheâs supposed to be asleep right now.
âI didnât break up with you because I donât love you anymore. I still do and I think I will for all my life. I need you to be a part of my life too.â
Her words are melody in your ears, but you feel like there still is something else. Like if something was restraining her.
âButâŠ?â you mumble, looking for her eyes.
âBut I canât continue like this. I thought you were dead.â
Sheâs crying now and your heart hurts like if someone just punched it. You move in the bed, trying desperately to touch her or anything to try to comfort her. Your ribs and your legs burn awfully, and you ignore your elbow hurting in protest.
âOna Iâm so sorry, I swearâ you say, managing to take her hand in yours.
The position is awful, and you wonder briefly if you can throw up even if you havenât eaten anything for almost two days.
âI didnât think it would hurt you that way. Please donât cryâ you continue.
She shakes her head softly, kind of laughing between her tears.
âWhy would you think that?â
âBecause you left me. And you blocked me everywhere.â
That point hurts, too. You werenât even able to look at her social media to have news of her, you were reduced to following a fan's account of her.
âI just couldnât live with you popping randomly on my timelines. It hurts too much every time.â
You nod and that gesture makes your position too hurtful. You roll on your back, trying to hold your whine of pain. But Ona sees it anyway and frowns almost instantly.
âDo you want me to call them to have more painkillers?â
âAre they ok with you being here? I donât want them to make you leaveâ you admit with a small voice.
There is a beam of silence.
âI wonât leave your sideâ she says in a comforting voice.
You want to believe that she means it for like all your life. But having her tonight is what you have best for now. So, you nod, closing your eyes when she rings the nurses. The door is open only a minute after and you open your eyes again when you hear Onaâs voice.
âI think sheâs ready for more painkillersâ the brunette says.
âI will give some to youâ the nurse says to you before adding something in your intravenous. âWhat hurts?â
âEverythingâ you admit softly.
She nods and gives you a smile in sympathy. You look at her doing her things, missing Onaâs small winces at your admission. The nurse starts to talk again when sheâs at the door, ready to leave.
âYou will feel better like this. After that it will be great if you try to eat something. You will be sleepy for now though.â
Your eyes fly to Ona who is already looking at you. She said that she will stay by your side, but does she mean while you sleep too? She probably has training or somewhere to go. A match to play? You donât know which day it is anymore, the painkillers are starting to kick in already, making you confused.
âOnaâ you manage to say.
âSleep, Hermosa. Iâll be here when you wake up, ok?â
Two weeks later, you are finally leaving the hospital. You still have to leave in a wheelchair, much to your disappointment. But with almost half of your body injured, there is no way that you are able to walk with crutches.
The only positive thing is that the person who is pushing the wheelchair is Ona and that she managed to make it funny, sliding on it in the hospitalâs floor. Your brother is following with your suitcases, smiling softly while watching both of you.
After learning that you will be alright, you parents went home in Mallorca two days before you were authorized to go home. They proposed to you to come back to Mallorca with them and you have to admit that you miss your island, but there is no way that you are somewhere Ona isnât.
When you felt better, you had a very intense and long discussion about your relationship, both of your feelings, what you both expect from that said relationship and where you want it to go.
Ona is the one who will look after you on a daily basis, but sometimes your brother will need to take you to your appointment when Ona is away or training. The end of the season is soon here, but there still is the Olympics this Summer so she has to prepare herself intensively.
Your girlfriendâs here, one month after, when you are in the doctorâs office for the worst moment of your professional life. Sitting next to you, sheâs holding your hand when the doctor looks at you with an awful sorry face.
âI donât know where to startâ he begins, playing with the sheets on his desk.
âJust go straight into it, Docâ you sigh softly.
You know already that you will hate what is going to be said. Onaâs fingers stroking your hand help, but your heart is still beating faster than ever.
âYou are making good progress, I saw that they removed your cast on your feet, but we are really concerned about your elbow. We donât think it will be fit enough for you to be able to start motorcycle in a professional way anymore.â
You were waiting for it, but it still hurt to hear that. Motorcycle is the only thing you knew since you were a teenager, you never thought about doing anything else in your life. You swallow softly before passing a hand on your face. You did everything you can to be able to start again, followed every advice your team gave you. But itâs not enough. Â
âI donât know what to sayâ you finally mumble, looking at an imaginary point somewhere on the desk. âThat's all I know; I don't know how to do anything else.â
âI can pick you up for an appointment with our psychotherapist if you want to. It can help.â
âCan we leave? Iâll tell you if I want oneâ
For now, you just want to get out of this office and be able to breathe some fresh air. Ona helps you to get up even if you donât need help anymore. You suppose itâs a way to comfort you. You are glad for her. She doesnât say anything while you are getting out of the building, but she doesnât let your hand go when you lean against the railing once outside.
âWhat am I going to do, Ona?â you whisper softly.
She let go of your hand now, but itâs only to pass her arm around your waist and hold you close.
âWhatever you want mi Amor. Itâs ok not to know now, but you still have a bunch of possibilities. We will figure it out together, yeah?â
She kisses your cheek, and you close your eyes, letting yourself being cuddle a little more. Itâs not the same feeling as the one when you lost Ona. You know there are different exit doors, you just have to find the good one. Ona will be your light in the dark.
Several weeks later, you are in France. Not for a race, but for playing the WAG for your girlfriend who is playing the final today. She introduces you to others girlfriends/wife of her teammates and you get along great with everyone. You watched every single game in the stadium, and you were able to see Ona several times in between. You missed her and she was worried sick to let you alone at home, but you are pretty fine.
You are famous in the world of sport so itâs not a surprise that you are not able to skip some interviews while going to the stand to attend the finale.
âY/Nâ said one journalist when he puts her microphone under your mouth, with an awful French accent. âYou announced your retirement sooner this month because of your massive injuries. How are you feeling?â
âIâm still sad about it, of course. It wasnât my choice and I think it makes it harder but I didnât have the choice. Iâm sad not to be able to finish the championship this year, I was really well ranked, but you knowâŠâ
You shrug, thinking thatâs between his accent and yours, people on social media will have a great fun.
âDo you think you will come back to the motorcycle world one day?â
âNot as a racer obviously, but why not. I still need to figure out what to do with my life, but first I have to heal correctly.â
âThanks for your answersâ he smiles. âDo you have a favorite for today?â
âSpain, obviouslyâ you smile back.
âDo you have a favorite player?â
You almost roll your eyes at that. Your relationship with Ona is common knowledge for everyone, you are not hiding yourself. You both werenât as famous before and you were posting without really thinking about it.
âOh, I donât know⊠Number two is pretty greatâ you smirk, looking at the jersey you are wearing.
You hear someone giggle in the background, and you are pretty sure to recognize Ireneâs wife waiting for you with Mateo. You soon say goodbye to the journalist to find your place in the stand. You are sitting next to Onaâs family obviously and your family made the trip too. They are sitting next to other Majorcans people, Cataâs family and Marionaâs brother and mother arenât far away either.
When Ona smiles at you during the national anthem after looking around to find you, you smile back and say âTâestimoâ to her. You know that she canât hear you, but she can easily read it on your lips.
You donât know what the results of this game will be, like you donât know what you will do in several months. But you know you will be fine, because you will be with her.
Ona is your forever and you donât want another.
#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso fanfics#ona batlle imagine#ona batlle#ona batlle x reader#woso one shot
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BETTER TOGETHER âȘâȘ
â€ïžâŹ PAIRING: alex albon x reader | âȘâȘâ€ïžâŹ WC: 4.0K âȘâȘ â€ïžâŹ GENRE: fluff with a little bit of angst (nothing sad I SWEAR)âȘâȘ â€ïžâŹ INCOMING RADIO: buzzer beater for alex's birthday! | a part of my new ONLY EXCEPTION seriesâȘâȘ â€ïžâŹ RECOMMENDED LISTENING: only exception, paramore â better together, jack johnson â home, edward sharpe & the magnetic zeroes â gravity, john mayer â peach, kevin abstract
âȘâȘâ€ïžâŹ SUMMARY: If this is madnessâif you are the exception to every ruleâthen maybe, just maybe, he doesnât mind it at all.
Alex doesnât stay up late.
His body is a finely tuned machine, and sleep is the fuel it runs onâeight, nine hours if heâs lucky. Rest, recoveryâtheyâre sacred to him, like the quiet before dawn. But then thereâs you, nestled into the corner of the couch, the soft glow from the city lights casting shadows on your face. Your eyes are alight with a thought you canât quite shake, a question that nags at you with quiet insistence.
âAnd then I started thinking,â you begin, your voice threaded with that animated energy that always seems to bubble up when you're on the cusp of an epiphany. âWhat if Federer never picked up a racket? Would he have been great at something else, or was he only ever meant for tennis?â
Alexâs head tilts slightly, a brow quirked, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He can see the wheels turning in your head, the way your fingers absentmindedly twirl a strand of your hair as you wait for him to respond. He loves thisâyour strange, whimsical questions that donât need answers, but instead are invitations to explore the edges of whatever thought just ran through your mind.
He knows what he should do. He should remind you that itâs well past midnight, that he has to be up in a few short hours to train. He should tell you that sleep is more important than philosophical musings. But instead, he feels himself leaning into the cushions, his arm stretching lazily along the backrest, already too comfortable to move. He has to admit, heâs captivated by you, by the way you think, how you see the world in a way heâs never quite been able to.
âYou think people only have one thing theyâre meant for?â he asks, his voice a mix of curiosity and something elseâsomething lazy, something that wants to stay in the moment with you. His fingers absentmindedly tap against the edge of the couch, but heâs not really paying attention to them.
You donât answer immediately, your lips pressing together in thought. He watches as the shadow of the streetlight outside dances across your face, highlighting the sharpness in your eyes, the way your eyebrows furrow as you deliberate. âI donât know,â you reply after a moment, eyes finally meeting his, your expression steady and searching. âDo you?â
Alex chuckles, more to himself than anything. He canât help it. Do you think Federer couldâve been a baker instead of a tennis champion?Â
âMaybe,â he murmurs, pretending to consider it with the kind of drama that would make any serious philosopher cringe. âBut, like... what if he was meant to bake croissants? Imagine that. Best in the world at croissants.â
You laugh, that sharp, sudden burst of sound thatâs contagious enough to make him smile, too. âNow that Iâd pay to see.â
The hours slip by unnoticed as the clock ticks past one, past two. Heâs sure heâs feeling the pull of exhaustion, but somehow it seems to fade into the background as your voice continues to fill the space between you. He fights back a yawn, but you catch it anyway, your lips curling into a soft, teasing smile.
âTired?â you ask, your voice a little gentler now, almost like a whisper, as though you're suddenly aware of how late itâs getting.
He shakes his head, but his eyes betray himâhis lids heavy, the weight of the day finally sinking in. He leans in, slow and deliberate, pressing a kiss against your forehead, a soft promise that heâll stay in this moment for as long as you need him to. His lips linger there for a moment, warm against your skin.
"Keep talking," he murmurs against your hair, his voice low and content, like he's found a corner of peace in the middle of a busy world.
And you do.
Alex doesnât get jealous.
Jealousy has never been a part of Alexâs vocabulary. Itâs a concept that feels foreign to himâsomething reserved for those who are unsure of their place, unsure of what they have. Love, to him, has always been something expansive, something that grows when shared freely, not hoarded. Thereâs no need to stake a claim, to guard it like a precious thing. Itâs always been enough to know that it exists, that it flows easily between people who trust each other.
But then he sees you, across the room, your laughter ringing out in the crowded space. Itâs warm and light, the kind of laughter that makes the world feel a little less heavy. Lando has said something funny, and you tilt your head back, eyes gleaming with that effortless joy thatâs always drawn people to you.
Thereâs something about the way you glow in that moment, the way the room shifts around you as though itâs orbiting your presence, that unsettles something inside him. He doesnât recognize the feeling right away. Itâs a tightness in his chest, a fluttering he can't quite name. Itâs subtle at first, but the longer he watches, the more the feeling takes rootâsomething akin to possessiveness. The kind of thing heâs never felt before. A sudden, uninvited sting that makes his stomach drop.
He knows he has no reason to feel this way. Thereâs nothing to be threatened by. But as he stands there, a foot away from the crowd, the absurdity of it settles in his chest like a weight. Heâs never been this kind of person. Why now? Why this?
The thought flits through his mind, but he pushes it aside quickly. Itâs nothing. Just a fleeting moment, a trivial pang. Heâs being irrational, and he knows it.
But still, the feeling persists, gnawing at him. Without realizing it, his feet are moving toward you, slow but steady, like heâs being pulled by some invisible force. His gaze doesnât leave you as he approaches, watching you laugh again, this time at something elseâanother harmless joke from Carlos this time, someone he has no reason to be jealous of. Still, it doesnât feel harmless.
As he nears, he slides his arm around your waist, pulling you gently into his side. The move is casual, almost instinctive, but to him, it feels like a reminderâhis presence, a quiet claim. The subtle warmth of your body against his calms him, but it doesnât quiet the strange knot in his chest. His heartbeat quickens as he leans in, pressing his lips to your temple in a soft, almost hesitant kiss, as if to erase the thought thatâs been lingering too long.
You turn to him, the corner of your lips lifting in a playful smirk as your brow arches.
âSomething wrong?â you ask, eyes dancing with the amusement you always carry when you know heâs thinking too much.
Alex doesnât answer right away, instead looking at you, feeling the softness of your body against his, the way the tension in his chest slowly begins to ease. He wants to tell you that nothing is wrong, that itâs nothing, but the words get caught in his throat. He canât quite explain the tightness he felt watching you, the way it wrapped itself around his ribs like a dark cloud. It feels silly now, standing here with you, the feeling dissipating in the light of your gaze.
âJust missed you,â he says, his voice low, a little more vulnerable than he intended. The words are simple, but they carry a weight he hadn't anticipated. He hadnât meant for it to sound so much like an apology.
Itâs not a lie. Not entirely.Â
His heart slows as he feels your hand brush against his arm. He doesnât need to justify the strange surge of possessiveness, but the words come out anyway, a quiet confession in a sea of unspoken things. It wasnât about him not trusting youâit was about something inside him, a crack in his carefully constructed composure that opened for just a moment. Something he didnât even know he needed to confront until now.
Your gaze softens, and you smile at him, a knowing expression that makes his chest tighten in a way he canât quite explain. Itâs like you understand the quiet fight heâs had with himself, the things heâs been trying to untangle.
You donât say anything more, and for a moment, thatâs enough. His arm around your waist feels natural again, and the tension slips away, leaving only the sound of your voices and the low hum of the crowd around you.Â
Alex realizes, then, that some things don't need to be justified.Â
And maybe, just maybe, thatâs okay.
Alex doesnât break his pre-race routine.
Superstition is just logic in disguise. Rituals. Routines. Theyâre the backbone of everything Alex does. His pre-race routine is meticulous, each step honed to perfection over years of trial and error. Itâs superstition, yes, but more than thatâitâs a foundation. Itâs not just superstition. Itâs a foundation, one built from trial and error, trust in repetition, the reassurance that in a world of chaos, some things remain unchanged.Â
But in the dying light of the late afternoon, in the quiet of the hotel room, alone with his thoughts, something new is creeping in. It isnât unwelcome, but it feels foreign, like a shadow that stretches a little longer than it should.
Youâre there, barefoot on the cool floor, moving like you donât quite belong in the stillness of his space. The rustle of your movements barely breaks the silence, but to him, itâs louder than the hum of the city outside. Your presence is soft, gentle, but somehow, it pulls at the edges of his focus. It shifts something inside himâthis rhythm heâs relied on for so long, suddenly disrupted.
He can feel your gaze before you even touch him, a heat that builds between you in the quiet, unspoken. You reach for him, just the simple press of your hand against his chest, a reminder of something warm and steady. His body tenses at first, a reflex, but he doesnât pull away. Instead, he lets himself sink into the touch, feels the way your palm molds against him.Â
âGood luck,â you murmur, voice thick with sleep, and thereâs a teasing note to it, like youâre not sure if youâre serious or just making light of the situation. âDonât crash.â
Itâs just a joke. A lighthearted jab at the nerves he canât escape. But it lands differently now.Â
Alex rolls his eyes, half-amused, half-ashamed of the way his chest tightens at your proximity. The tension in his shoulders loosens just a fraction, but he doesnât step back. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing your cheek in the most casual of gestures.
He doesnât pull away right away. His arms slide around your middle, drawing you closer, your body fitting against his with an ease that makes him feel like heâs always known this rhythm. He holds you, just for a second longer than usual, something in the way his breath catches betraying the stillness of his exterior.Â
And for the first time, the ritual feels just a little bit different. Not worse. Just... more. More than he expected. More than he knew he could need.
Now, this is part of the foundation. He wonât leaveâhe canât leaveâuntil you say something. Until you touch him again. Until you make some offhand comment that calms the nervous hum beneath his skin.Â
Alex doesnât let people see him lose.
Disappointment is a quiet thing. It never yells or demands attention; it sits in the corners, folding itself into the spaces between breaths, hiding beneath the weight of expectation. Heâs trained himself to swallow it down, to press it into the depths of his chest where it wonât make a sound. A bad day is just thatâa day. It does not own him. He doesnât let it.
But the weight of it lingers a little longer today. He feels it in the tightness of his jaw, the way his chest constricts with every shallow breath, each one just a little more labored than the last. When he steps into the driver's room, itâs like the air shifts around himâcolder, heavier. Normally, the buzz of the team, the hum of equipment being packed up, fills the silence.Â
But not today.Â
Today, itâs just youâwaiting in the stillness, sitting cross-legged on the couch, your presence the only thing that pulls him in. Thereâs no expectation, no questions waiting to be asked, nothing but the quiet comfort of you being there.
And in that silence, he doesnât have to wear a mask. He doesnât have to pretend that the sting of defeat doesnât hurt, that the weight of letting down so many people doesnât sit heavy in his bones. He doesnât have to smooth over the frustration that flares up inside him, wanting to lash out but knowing it would only hurt more. Youâre there, and for once, he allows himself to feel itâthe quiet ache thatâs been building since the race ended.
He exhales deeply, the sound escaping like a slow leak, and finally sinks into the seat beside you. His body feels like itâs made of lead, the weariness pulling him down into the cushions. His head tilts back against the upholstery, and he stares at the ceiling, his gaze unfocused. The lines and cracks of the tiles above blur, just a soft landscape of thoughts he doesnât want to organize yet.
âYou okay?â Your voice is gentle, a thread of concern woven through it, but thereâs no pressure. No demand for answers. You let the silence stretch, giving him space to find his words.
He smiles faintly, though itâs a thin thing, barely a curve of his lips. âIâve been better.â Itâs a truth, but itâs not the whole truth. The whole truth would be too much. The whole truth would crack something open heâs not ready to share.
Silence again.Â
You donât rush in to fill it. Instead, your hand slides over his, soft and steady, pulling him from the noise thatâs circling in his mind. Your fingers lace with his, a simple connection that speaks volumes. Itâs grounding in a way nothing else can beâjust the quiet pressure of your touch, the warmth of it curling into the edges of him, easing the sharpness of his frustration.
He turns his palm up, feeling the rough calluses of his skin brush against the softness of yours. Itâs a small thing, but the way his fingers curl against yours is almost an instinctâsomething necessary, something he canât avoid, even if he wanted to.
âYouâre allowed to be upset, you know.â Your words are soft, like theyâre meant to ease the weight rather than fix it, and for a moment, the heaviness in his chest lightens just enough to let him breathe a little easier.
âI know,â he says, his voice quieter now, the rasp of it a reflection of the quiet heâs been holding inside. He doesnât pull away, doesnât break the connection between you. Instead, he stays there, allowing himself the simple comfort of this momentâthe warmth of your hand in his, the silence that wraps around you both, and the fact that, for now, thereâs no need to be anything other than exactly what he is in this moment.
He doesnât have to be strong, doesnât have to hide the disappointment from you.Â
Not here.
Not now.Â
In the space between your fingers, he finds something soft enough to hold on to, something he hasnât allowed himself in a long time.
Alex doesnât lose his cool.
Heâs easygoing, the kind of man who wears patience like a second skin. Heâs made a career out of controlling the narrativeâon the track, in interviews, even in the most frustrating of moments. He smooths over the rough edges with a joke, a lopsided smile, a charm thatâs second nature. But then thereâs youâyour name trending on Twitter, and the words flashing across the screen: Alex and His Beau: Is it over?
The post is incendiary, speculative, designed to tear apart something people donât understand. And the worst part? Itâs gaining traction. Heâs used to the noise, the mindless chatter of fans and critics alike, but this? This is different. His thumb slides over his phone screen as the same words echo in his mind, Whatâs going on with Alex and his lover? Somethingâs not right. The words are poisonous, aimed right at you.Â
Youâre sitting on the couch, eyes glued to your screen, your face an unreadable mask as you scroll through the flood of comments and replies. The room feels too small suddenly, the air too heavy.Â
Alex sees it before you even speak, the tightness in your jaw, the flicker of disbelief in your eyes as you scroll, then stop, then scroll again. He doesnât need to ask. He can feel it. The waves of frustration and hurt youâre trying to hold back.
"Who the hell are these people?" you mutter, a half-laugh, but there's no amusement in it. "And how do they know so much about me when they've never even met me?"
Alex knows this about youâhow you handle the chaos, how you confront the worst of it with a joke and a broken smile. He watches your fingers brush over your phone, reading the comments, the well-wishes, the questions, all of it. You look up at him for a brief second, your gaze soft but knowing.
âYou donât have to say anything,â you murmur, and for a second, the tension in his chest unfurls. âWe donât owe anyone an explanation.â
But Alex is not as forgiving as you.Â
The venom in those tweets makes his blood run hot. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach, the desire to fire back with every insult, every single thing heâs dying to say. To rip into the faceless cowards who dare to speak about you like they know anything at all. But Alex doesnât lose his cool. He never does.
Not on the outside, at least.
Instead, he snatches his phone from his pocket, fingers hovering over the keyboard, muscles tense. Heâs seen this kind of thing before, heard rumors that have no truth, no foundation. But he canât help itâhis mind races, his heart quickens, and the urge to respond surges like an electric current. He wants to tell the world exactly who you are to him, how these rumors are nothing more than noise. He wants to protect you, to shield you from this distortion of reality. His thumb hovers over his phone screen, ready to type something sharp, something cutting, something to silence the accusations. A few taps, a snarky message sent into the void of Twitter:Â
Some people really should stick to things they understand. idk, silence is a great option.Â
He hits send before thinking twice.
Then, he stands there, watching you, heart a little tighter than usual. Your lips twitch at the corners, and you roll your eyes, even as you try to stifle a smile. He knows he shouldn't have responded, but damn it, you didnât deserve any of that, not even for a second.
âAlexâŠâ you start, but you donât finish. You donât have to. You already know that whatever else might happen, heâs got your back.
He lets out a breath, shaking his head. âWhat? You think Iâd let them talk shit about you and just sit back? Theyâve got the wrong idea, babe. Iâll fight them if it comes to that.â
Itâs not a boast. Itâs a fact.
You look at him then, and in your gaze, thereâs this soft, unexpected vulnerabilityâa gratitude that you donât have to say a word to communicate.Â
Alex doesnât lose his cool.Â
But for you? He would tear down the whole damn world.
Alex doesnât make big gestures.
For Alex, love has always been quiet. Itâs never been about grand declarations or showy displays. Thereâs no need for flash mobs or extravagant gestures when something is already understood, already deeply rooted in the everyday. Love, to him, is in the quiet momentsâthe way you both sip coffee together without needing to speak, the way his hand naturally finds yours when the world feels too loud. He believes in something steadier, more enduring than that. But then thereâs you, and suddenly, the rules donât apply.
Heâs standing in line at the airport, the hum of voices around him, the distant chatter of announcements, and heâs holding his boarding pass in his hand, wondering if this makes sense. Less than 24 hours. An absurd turnaround. He only has 48 hours before he needs to be in Shanghai.Â
He could have waited. He could have let this trip pass by, just like all the others. But then, thereâs you, and the thought of not seeing you for even a moment longer than necessary gnaws at him. So, heâs here, in the airport, wondering if this makes any sense at all.
The line moves forward, but he stays where he is, watching people bustle around him, their minds already halfway across the world. He can feel the exhaustion creeping inâthe hours of travel, the missed sleepâbut the thought of your face and the way you laugh pushes him forward. It doesnât matter that heâll barely have time to sleep before his next flight. It doesnât matter that itâs ridiculous to rush across the globe for a few hours with you. It doesnât matter that the world might think heâs out of his mind.
He could have waited. He could have let the distance stretch just a little longer. But the idea of being apart from you for even a few hours is suddenly unbearable.
Itâs quiet, too quiet, in the hallway of your shared apartment building. He knocks, his hand lingering on the wood as if itâs too soon, too sudden. But then the door opens, and there you are, blinking at him in confusion, your hair tousled, your eyes still heavy with sleep.
He watches your expression shiftâbewilderment to surprise to something else, something soft that tugs at the corners of his heart. The grin that spreads across his face is almost involuntary, and he canât help the breath of laughter that slips past his lips. âI missed you, baby,â he says, his voice a little hoarse from the early hours, but thereâs no mistaking the amusement that laces it.
âYouâre insane,â you laugh, your voice light and incredulous, your disbelief apparent, but there's something about the way you say it that tells him you're not mad. Just...surprised. Maybe a little impressed.
Alex just shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, trying to keep up the cool façade. âMaybe.â
You stand there for a moment longer, eyes still narrowing at him, like youâre waiting for him to crack. And thenâjust like thatâyouâre on him, your arms flying around his neck, your lips finding his cheek in a flurry of kisses. Theyâre warm and a little messy, the kind that can only come from someone whoâs missed him as much as heâs missed you. His breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels like itâs been dialed down to a whisper.Â
âIf this is insanity,â Alex murmurs between your kisses, âI think Iâm okay with it.â
You pull away just enough to smile at him, the kind of smile that tugs at something deep in his chest. He watches your lips, the way they curl up, the way your eyes light up with amusement. âWell, youâre certainly out of your mind,â you tease, tapping a finger against his nose, and itâs so ridiculously normal, so familiar, that the knot in his chest unravels completely.
âI can live with that,â Alex says, his grin turning softer, more real. Heâs about to say something else when you press another quick kiss to his lips, catching him off guard in the best possible way.
He pulls you closer, arms wrapping around you as he spins you, a laugh bubbling up between you both, the sound a little too loud for the quiet hallway. It feels ridiculous, like something out of a rom-com heâd never admit to watching, but in this moment, he doesnât care. The world feels right. The ridiculousness of his actions are washed away in the joy of having you close.
If this is madnessâif you are the exception to every ruleâthen maybe, just maybe, he doesnât mind it at all.
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An un-promised dance.
summary :: when faced with an unexpected rival leading up to the Yule Ball, Sebastianâs anger boils over. Part one!
note :: the reader is implied to be bisexual, although it is not explicitly stated. Parallels to the goblet of fire movie.
âA butter beer?â
âYes, if youâre not too busy.â Poppy smiled, swaying from her heels to toe, a light pink colouring her face and nose.
The shorter girl had pulled you aside with a tug of your sleeve from your journey to crossed wands. âIâd love that Poppy,â you nodded, the kindness of her invite tugging at your lips, âwhen should I meet you?â
âWhen are you free?â She returned.
âWell, I have duelling practise with Sebastian soon, perhaps after then. I can meet you in Hogsmeade at sundown?â
Poppy nodded, beaming. âPerfect. I'll see you then.â
With a small wave, Poppy had skipped off leaving you warm from her sweetness. Being close to Poppy was much like earning an animalâs trust; specifically an animal thatâs known not to like people, such as a cat or skittish rabbit. You treasured her friendship deeply.
âFond of you, isnât she?â Being the snake-like Slytherin he was, Sebastian had slunk to your side without detection whilst your mind lingered on the Hufflepuff.
âSebastian.â You greeted, sighing away the surprise his presence brought you. âOh, Poppy? Yes, I suppose so.â You nodded. The thought that others could see the softness Poppy held for you brought an undeniable brightness to your face.
âBy your smile it seems youâre quite fond of her yourself.â Sebastian commented, a brow lifting at your bashfulness.
âYes, well, Poppy is a good friend.â You waved his inference away and sighed. âShall we get to crossed wands then?â
âSure.â He shrugged, arms falling from crossing over his chest. âI was thinkingâ after duellingâ would you suppose a visit to the forbidden forest? Iâve aââ
âSorry, Poppyâs asked me for a drink. Perhaps another time?â
A hesitation irked his steps, but he continued forward. âRight then. Another time.â
The brunetteâs casting could only be described as quick but distracted, as it had lately been. The two of you won, of course, but the lag in Sebastianâs attention had been obvious. It had been for some time. You had been duelling with Sebastian long enough to recognise when his spells lacked. His mind was always elsewhere.
I need to check in on him soon, you thought, but later. Poppyâs waiting on me.
From a distance, youâd seen Poppy waiting just outside Hogsmeade for your arrival, hands behind her back with a subtle pep in her stillness. Dipping the tip of your broom, you landed swiftly and tripped towards her.
âEvery time I see you on that broom, youâve gotten better and better.â She smiled.
âImelda has been keeping me on my toesâ or broom, I should say.â
âDonât let her overwork you. Just because youâre the only good competition sheâs got doesnât mean you always need to be racing her.â Poppy stated, her brows furrowing cutely.
âDonât worry Poppy, I rather enjoy it.â You smiled at her sternness.
âAlright,â She looped her hand through your arm. âShall we go?â
âOf course.â
After asking Sirona for two butter beers to go, you and Poppy had ventured to a nearby garden to sit and watch the sun set, accompanied by idle chatter.
âSo, how are you faring with extra assignments?â Poppy asked.
âWell.â You answered. âI canât say it hasnât been keeping me busy, I feel Iâve no time to explore anymore.â You'd been completing extra assignments since your fifth year, one would think you'd be used to them by now.
âYou mean youâve no time to get up to mischief?â She politely jabbed.
You hummed a laugh. âThat, too.â
A silence permeated as you sipped from your beer. Poppy opened her mouth, inhaled with hesitation and then spoke. âHave you found a Yule Ball partner yet?â
You swallowed sorely at the reminder. âI had almost forgotten. No. Honestly I havenât been thinking about the ball at all.â
âRight, of course. I wouldnât worry. I havenât one either.â
Who would you go with? The sudden question stung you, filling your head with possible candidates suddenly. Sebastian, perhaps Ominis, Gareth had always been playful towards you, perhaps even Amit if he got the courage. You ignored Sebastian coming to your mind again.
The choices were all well and nice, but the real question to consider was why hadnât you been asked by any of them?
In all honesty, you somewhat expected Poppy to struggle to find a partner. Her head was always buried in the scruff of some magical creature and her closest friend was easily you. You decided perhaps remaining without a Yule date wouldnât be so bad if you were with her.
âIf thatâs the case, weâll have to go with one another.â You jested.
âActuallyâŠâ Poppy trailed, her gaze shifting away from you. âI was hoping to go with you.â
Your head titled to her in questioning. âPoppy?â
âI know itâs rather uncommon⊠but I couldnât imagine going with anyone else.â Poppyâs pink cheeks caught your eye and you melted at her rays of blurted sincerity. âI donât think Iâd enjoy myself half as much if I wasnât with you.â
âOh, Poppy.â Her sweetness had soon overwhelmed you and you dropped your head to hide your bursting smile.
âWill you?â She asked.
âOf course Poppy, of course I will.â You nodded. Poppy had gasped in delight and leapt to hug you.
âOh weâre going to have so much fun! I promise.â
âAnd then she asked me.â
The room smelt of burnt dittany and melting billy-wig sting slime.
Ominusâs eyebrow twitched up. âSweeting? She asked you?â
âYes.â You sighed, tone looped with softness for the Hufflepuff.
âAnd you?â
âI said yes, of course.â
His face scrunched, a kind of cringeworthy melancholy seeping in. The expression made your heart twang defensively.
âHave you an issue with Poppy attending the ball with me?â You asked, politely adding some dittany to your wiggenweld potion.
His expression dropped quickly, like he suddenly realised you could perceive him. âNo, of course not. I just wouldnât have expected her to be so bold.â
You readjusted in your seat.
âWhoâs so bold?â Sebastian had taken his seat beside Ominis whose scrunched face had returned.
As you took a breath to answer, Ominis beat you to it. âNobody.â He quickly uttered. Sebastian lingered on Ominisâs quick shut-down for a moment, but ultimately moved on with a sigh.
âWell, speaking of boldness, I believe Iâve lost my edge.â He murmured, exasperated.
âHave you?â You enquired.
âHalf our year is full of girls, yet Iâve still no date to the ball.â His ink-less quill tapped his desk, his potion stand empty with no brew.
âThatâs because youâve yet to ask anyone.â Ominis said.
âItâs harder than it looks. I donât see you with a partner.â The brunette returned.
âI do have a partner.â Ominis countered, very matter-of-factly.
âYou do? And howâd you manage that?â Sebastianâs brow raised, giving you an incredulous look. You raised your shoulders as if to say I donât know anything about this.
âI got the courage and asked, Sebastian.â He stated, clearly annoyed.
Ominisâs attitude placed Sebastian back in his seat and he thought on the blondeâs words for a moment, his brow furrowed.
You shook your head, amused, and continued to tend to your potion. Although, it mightâve been careless on your part to move, as Sebastian caught you in his gaze, like a predator spotting the ears of a rabbit move in tall grass.
âYouâre a girl.â He stated. Ominisâs head was already in his hands.
âOh well spotted.â You cautiously replied.
âCare to come withââ His blasĂ©, although interrupted, was already putting you off.
âI hope you lot are making plenty of potions over all that chatter.â Professor Sharpâs voice cut through the room, calming the chatter but Sebastian continued, voice lower yet still managing to keep his indifferent tone.
âItâs one thing for a bloke to show up alone, for a girl itâs just sad.â He said.
An offended noise left your throat. âI wonât be going alone, because believe it or not someoneâs asked me.â
That statement seemed to have taken him aback, because he stumbled to ask, âWell, who?â His tone now as offended as your own.
âPoppy.â You answered, returning to your cauldron as though you couldnât care less.
âSweeting? So sheâs the bold one?â He looked between you and Ominis. Neither of you answered.
âShe asked me just yesterday.â You proudly stated.
âSo youâve said yes?â He asked.
âShe did.â Ominis muttered, his words laced in misery.
âI did.â You nodded.
Safe to say, the rest of the class was only filled with the bubbling of potions and entirely absent of chatter.
âHeâs mad.â You uttered, index tapping the base of your wand aggressively. âWonât so much as speak to me. Does he dislike Poppy?â
âI doubt heâs cared to even think of Sweeting until now.â Ominis had a creased, guilty look on his face, one that always appeared whenever he sat in the middle of an altercation between you two. Fights (or merely disagreements, as you would prefer to call them) with Sebastian were so uncommon that youâd only ever seen Ominis wear it one other time, back in fifth year. âIâm sure the way he sees it, itâs been yourself and him. Always.â
âIf he really thought that, surely heâd have asked me right away. And what about you? Itâs always been the three of us.â Ominis did, however, have some merit to what he said. Without Sebastian you two likely wouldn't have bonded and become as close as you had. Still, you were friends now, with or without Sebastian. You lingered on that assurance before your stomach fluttered grossly. Perhaps out of a moment of insecurity, you quietly asked; âWhy hadnât you asked me?â You flushed, embarrassed.
Ominis frowned regretfully. âSebastian would be just as mad as he is now if Iâd asked you, maybe more so.â He muttered.
âPossessive boy.â You stated.
Ominisâ hand brushed against your leg, his fingers gently lying on your thigh. It was a rare gesture, to have Ominis comfort you with a touch, but it was welcome nonetheless. âItâll pass. It Usually does.â He assured.
âI hope so.â
Pass, it didn't. Sebastian had managed to remain stiff towards you in the coming weeks of the Yule ball. It pulled you further into Poppy's friendship, and further away from Sebastian and Ominis. Only greeting Ominis rarely, and Sebastian much less so. Truthfully, before the 'disagreement', your time spent with Sebastian and Ominis was already feigning. If it weren't for Sebastian's constant cold shoulder, this time spent apart would've felt like a natural progression of busy schedules, classes apart and no more adventures togethers allowing distance to drive the friendship apart.
Although, you hadn't considered that reality.
And soon snow fell on the night of the Yule ball as you dressed yourself in your common room, only leaving once you'd adjusted the corset correctly and added a few pins to keep your hair remaining how you wanted it to the whole night.
At the bottom of the stairs on your way to the great hall, stood Ominis and Sebastian, both layered with suitable coats and button-ups. Sebastian was fumbling with Ominis' tie, pulling it straight and tight, although it bounced back to a wonky position. The first step you took had your heel clicking against the marble stairs, and like Sebastian could sense it was you, his eye-line swiftly lifted to take you in.
You felt hot slowly walking down towards them, especially when Sebastianâs face was so emotive. Heâd never stared at you like that, and for a moment, you wondered if perhaps that would be the face heâd make watching his bride walk down the aisle. Certainly all the animosity he'd been holding these past few weeks had vanished.
âSheâs here.â Sebastian uttered to Ominis, slack jawed.
âDescribe her to me.â Ominis asked, and through the crowded voices, Sebastian only heard it as a mumble.
âSheâsâŠâ The words drawled from him like heâd been hexed. âUtterly stunning.. âfits her like a glove.â He murmured, his usually witty dialect failing him.
You reached the floor, well flushed with insecurity. âHello, you two.â You cleared your throat, looking anywhere but at Sallowâs brown eyes or Ominisâ unreadable face.
âYou lookââ
âYou look beautiful!â The compliment cut right through Sebastianâs words, then Poppy herself cut past him, enveloping you in a sturdy hug.
âHello Poppy.â You smiled, wrapping your laced arms around her.
You blinked a glance at Sebastian, whose head hung low and eyes longed for you intensely. It made your body burn to see him so obvious in his attraction to you. Attraction, and regret.
âLetâs go, the dancing shall start soon.â She ushered, pulling you away.
Bless Poppy and her sweet dancing, her kind hold of your hand and the way she smiled up at you with such delight. But God, you could hardly be swept away by her when two burning eyes were watching you. Sebastian, sat on the sidelines, simmering. The magic of your beauty seemed to dissipate the moment Poppy had pulled you away. Ominis had seemed to abandon him and the loathsome aura he was creating.
At first it made you nervous. Truthfully this whole battle with Sebastian made you nervous, but as Poppy stepped with you to the sweet music, chest to chest you fell away from Sebastian and landed on the conclusion that if he couldnât get over himself, you wouldnât dwell on it. Of course, he still plagued the back of your mind.
You had decided, when the floor was emptied of most of the students, that it was time you took a dance with one of your friends and as Sebastian was still in too foul of a mood, you asked Ominis.
âYou arenât trying to make him jealous, are you?â Ominisâ hand tickled your side, his grip of your hand was insecure and fretting.
âTruely Ominis, not everything I do is because of Sebastian. Youâre my friend too. I care for you too.â You peered over at the chair Sebastian had occupied for most of the night, it was now empty. Perhaps heâd finally retreated to the dorms. âBesides, Iâd dance with him if he wasnât so stubborn.â
Ominisâs furrowed expression returned, guilty and sad. âI shouldâve asked you. It wasnât right to allow you to go so long without a partner.â
âOh truely, donât pity me so much. Poppy has been a wonderful date.â You squeezed his shoulder, noticing it elevated his torn expression.
"I'm glad."
Your hand slid across his chest to fix the bowtie Sebastian had clearly done a bad job at tying. "Don't misunderstand me, I still would've love to come with you. I'm sure many would've liked to see us pair up, I know Professor Wesley thinks you're good for me."
"More like the lesser of two evils." The other being Sebastian, of course. You laughed and he seemed to be lightened by the sound. "Truthfully, the reason I didn't ask you first wasââ
Before you could get a glance of their face, a body was now standing between you and Ominis. The smell of oak and flames told you it was Sebastian before you met his eyes.
âI think Iâm owed a dance now, donât you?â His tone held a surprise charm that gave you hope heâd dropped the foul attitude.
You glanced over Sebastianâs burly shoulder, to see Ominis already stepping back and allowing the two of you some much needed time. You hadnât time to protest, Sebastian had already swooped you up, taking your hand and waist with a sure, tight grip that youâd be unable to escape with just your strength.
A silence fell, you waiting for Sebastianâs deserved apology and him likely waiting for yours. You decided youâd be lenient (as you often found yourself being with Sebastian) and speak first.
âNo date?â You asked. His face became hard and you hoped he hadnât taken offence to your inquiry.
âNo, not really.â
âNot really?â You pushed.
âNot at all.â He finished. âHas Sweeting been treating you well? Sheâs a bit short for the waltz, no?â
You sighed, content. âSheâs been wonderful. Iâve never seen her glow like this, unless of course she's surrounded by beasts.â
âHm.â The hum seemed dismissive and it fuelled your suppressed annoyance with him. Sebastian could feel your hand twitch in his own.
âSheâs been a true friend. Iâd gone weeks without a partner to the ball, if it werenât for her I would very well have ended up coming alone.â Sebastian hadnât dignified your statement with an answer, clearly thinking otherwise. He looked over your head, eyes tight with angst.
âPerhaps if youâd not have spent so much time with Sweeting, youâd have been asked sooner.â He murmured.
âWhat?â You returned, pausing in your steps.
âIf you werenât off with your other âfriendsâ perhaps Ominis or I wouldâve asked you sooner.â He repeated, tone low and annoyed.
âSebastianââ but he hadnât finished releasing his thoughts.
âYouâve got no time for us now. I remember when it was just the two of us, now youâre always off with Sweeting or Onai.â Sebastian snapped. You felt the air escape your lungs and dread sit in your stomach.
âSebastian I donât understandââ
âOf course you donât, because youâre never here to know whatâs going on with Ominis or I. Whenâs the last time youâve truely spent time with Ominis? Uninterrupted.â
âOminis and Iâs relationship is fine. Donât speak on behalf of him.â You asserted.
Sebastian groaned, unable to return with another argument, but he held you tighter and closer not releasing you from the stance. "She's using you. Sweeting only asked you because she didn't have a date."
"How dare you?" You gasp, utterly floored.
"I'm sure she loves to be prancing around with the hero of Hogwarts on her arm." He muttered, looking to the dance floor as if his mind was reliving watching you two dance together, dresses pressed together, hands holding and all.
"What? What? That's what you think?"
"Yeah, that is what I think."
âYou know what the solution to all this is then donât you?â You took a step back, attempting to tug yourself free.
âWhat?â He sneered, tightening around your hand.
âNext time thereâs a ball, pluck up the courage and ask me before somebody else does!â You snapped your hands away, escaping his grip and the dance floor.
He didnât respond but reached for you again. You continued to walk, utterly ruined by the fight and having no desire to speak more to him. He followed close behind, sputtering some kind of deter.
You two had come to a quick halt, when Ominis rounded a corner.
"Ominis." Sebastian uttered his name as though he'd come to rescue him from the fight.
"Where did you go?" You demanded, now bearing wet tears. Ominis open his mouth to speak, but you continued. "Never mind! Off to bed, both of you."
Ominis passed you, a new look of anger arranging his face as he walked with Sebastian up the stairs you had come down only hours ago.
"Suppose she thinks she's too good for us." Sebastian muttered, words like venom, dedicated to hurting you.
"Sebastian you've spoiled everything!" You called after him, the emotion in your throat cracking your words. They jogged up the steps, Ominis muttering something to him while you let a sob free and retired your sore legs to sit on the cold, stone steps.
Part two
#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy x reader#wizarding world#wizarding world x reader#hogwarts#sebastian sallow x reader#sebastian x reader#slytherin#slytherin x reader#yule ball#the yule ball#hogwarts legacy yule ball#Sebastian sallow x reader yule ball#Sebastian sallow fanfic#Sebastian sallow fanfiction#fanfiction#ive had this drafted for a year lolll#so happy to finally post#please enjoy!
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jealous roommate!vi
cw - nsfw (+18), pet names (baby, angel), vi is a hypocrite, vi calls reader slut once, afab reader, thigh riding, fingering (r!recieving), not proofread
wc - 900
a/n - haven't wrote in FOREVER, sorry if this sucks. vv i mean vv self indulgent as well but anywho
you couldn't believe it.
you never thought you would be this easy. you felt like you had more restraint to end up in a situation like this, one that would haunt you for the next two semesters you would have to share a dorm with her.
"over a silly date?" you question, barely even able to focus on your own thoughts. your mind was going three hundred miles per hour at this point. you feel nothing but your roommate vi's two fingers pump in and out of your aching cunt. her thumb grazing circles on your clit ever so softly.
you two were in your bed, your body fully naked in between vi's legs. her hand holding your pliant body against her clothed chest by the waist.
"never again." vi's tongue traced against the shell of your ear and softly nipped down, not slowing her brutal pace of her fingers. "dont go on anymore dates. yeah?"
only quiet whimpers and pants came out of your mouth, disregarding any of the words the redhead even said to you. "don't tell me you're already going dumb on my fingers angel." vi chuckles, tugging your head back roughly. "answer me."
you didn't even know why vi, of all people, was acting like this towards you. you knew how she was, how she would always have a girl in her arm everytime she walked into the door. the crazy amount of failed talking stages slipping pathetic notes into your shared dorm. vi had enough poor girls on her roster, but you having a date, one that'll possibly never happen again, is where she drew the line.
"y-yes. no more i promise." you didn't feel like arguing with her and pointing out her hypocrisy at the moment so you gave her what she wanted, your compliance. and besides, her long fingers felt better than your own. you needed this.
you thought you satisfied vi enough until she tugged at your hair once more, keeping your head tilted back. her narrowed eyes was kept onto your tear-filled ones. "you let her fuck you?" she questioned, slipping one more finger into your dripping cunt, producing a high pitched whimper from your lips.
"no- o-oh my god vi" her fingers began going faster than ever, curling and hitting the spot oh so deep inside you. "we didn't fuck--" you gripped onto her bicep, your freshly manicured nails creating deep crescents in her skin. the feeling pooling at the pit of your stomach continuously grew. you were close and she knew it.
so she stopped.
she fucking stopped.
she withdrew her fingers from your wet pussy, creating a vulgar squelch before placing the digits in her mouth.
you turned around to face her, climbing on top of her clothed thigh. you looked like a pissed rabid animal, your widen eyes full of need. you grabbed her hand, leading it to where you needed her the most, just for her to yank it away. groans of fustration leaving your mouth. "vi please i need it, i need you. please don't be like this" tears threatening to fall from your pleading eyes.
you looked so pathetic to her. vi never seen you so disarmed and submissive before, always getting your way. it did something to her, something that no plain ol' orgasm caused by her fuck buddies could do. she liked- no loved seeing you like this. it was way more than enough for her to get off.
"god i wish you could see yourself right now." vi squished your cheeks, manhandling your face to meet her eyes once again. "need you to see the needy little slut you're acting like right now. over my fingers at that."
she grabbed your hips with both of her hands, gripping and pulling you down to her jean clad thigh. "go on, finish on my thigh baby."
you didn't hesitate to begin your movements, letting the material of her jeans graze your clit. in this state you wouldn't be lasting longer than a minute. "f--feels so good vi.." you whimpered, holding onto her shoulders as you picked up the pace of your hips.
"i can hear her baby, so fuckin wet. she needs me huh?" vi grinned against your heated neck, scattering dark purple bites all over. "need me to fuck her just right, gonna have her creaming all over my cock." her words made your nods frantic, your hips bucking faster than ever before. "mhm...she n--needs you vi." she chuckles at your words, her hand landing harshly against your ass, causing you to yelp. "and only me. no one is gonna fuck you like i do" you hum in agreement, feeling your climax sneak up on you.
her hands find it's way to your waist, dragging you close enough to kiss you. "go on, cum on my thigh." she moans against your month, her tongue pushing past your lips.
after a few more movements of your hips your orgasm rushes over you, "i--i'm cumming vi- god..." your body starts shaking from the harshness of your climax, your arms draping over vi's neck pulling her close. her hands find its way to your waist, keeping you steady.
your body goes limp in her arms, fatigue clouding your brain. "there there..." vi whispers softly, placing you directly on your bed. she brushes the stray hairs from your face, hesitantly kissing your now bruised lips.
"get some rest angel.."
a/n - lowkey was hot ass but i'll get my groove back #soon
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Camus character analysis: games VS anime
If you finished the Uta no Prince-sama anime and your opinion of this man is "wow, he's kinda terrible," I don't blame you. in fact I've seen a lot of people say this
In this post, I want to talk about his characterization in the games and give my two cents on what the anime was trying to do with him, especially in his single focus episode Saintly Territory (S3E6).
Disclaimer: I wrote this on a whim because I'm sick and stuck at home so if anyone reads this, sorry I might go all over the place
Spoilers for all of the games!
The "be my slave" thing
Starting with Anime Camus's most egregious crime: treating Haruka like a servant/slave (however you want to translate it)
Basically in his focus episode, Haruka is tasked with writing a song for Camus. She wants to learn more about him in order to write it, but Camus will only let her follow him if she acts as his servant. She accepts without complaining, Cecil is rightfully angry, Haruka continues anyway and the song gets completed.
Now, am I about to say that Game Camus would never do this? No because he literally does lmao.
The anime doesn't pull this "servant" plotline out of nowhere, here's the context in his route:
Haruka accidentally overhears Camus talking about a plot to assassinate Saotome on the phone. When he notices that she heard everything, he basically tells her that he has to kill her now. But if she served him, he'd be able to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't leak anything, so she could escape death.
Okay uh "work under me or DIE" isn't exactly better, nor is it a good start to a love story, but I'm not finished!!
(A side note: I have to add that the anime made him look like an even bigger asshole and borderline dumb when it came to the things he made her do. Like he expected her to know that snapping your fingers means you want coffee without prior explanation. bro
^This might have been for comedic effect but I promise he can be actually funny and endearing.)
What the anime couldn't cover
The Camus episode wraps up with Haruka pulling through and writing a song that makes Camus "sincere," he says it's cool at the very end and that's the episode. I think the problem is that we technically didn't see him being sincere or what that even means to him, besides when he was singing (banger song btw)
It's a shame because in a 20-minute episode you really can't show the game experience of slowly piecing together what this man's problem is.
First of all, in Debut and AS you'll be quick to notice that he always has homeland and duty on the mind, constantly reminding himself that he's in Shining Agency/Japan for a reason, and it's NOT to have fun or make friends
The truth is, he slowly starts to appreciate the banter with his colleagues, music, and working there in general.
But because of his initial mindset, he has to rationalize & justify every connection he forms, like "it's just for work" or worse: "actually it was ALL A LIE and I NEVER ENJOYED A SECOND OF THE TIME WE SPENT TOGETHER, I'm such a great actor haha"
He uses that to fool himself and to push the other person away so it doesn't happen again. This scene is probably the best example:



(I'll be using google lens because it's faster but I checked that the tls were okay)
He also does this in the Non-Fiction drama, which may or may not have actually happened, but I think it's still a pretty good reflection of what could happen in reality because he tells Ranmaru their bond was a lie, then mopes around in his guilt thinking about the good times and wondering why he's sad, and THEN later doubles down on the "it was a lie, I don't care about you" because he just can't let himself get attached to anything.
Basically, he's terrified at the thought of forming actual bonds because he genuinely thinks he's nothing if he stops being a cold weapon:



At one point he does admit he sucks (as a love interest)-

-which is pretty huge by utapri standards. I love these games, but the amount of times where a male lead does something icky, and everyone, including Haruka, acts like it's normal or like it's Haruka's fault is ehhh but I digress
Upbringing
Of course he's very proud of his homeland and status, but sometimes it's to the point of thinking he can't be anything other than his title. So why is he like this?
We got to hear about his childhood from Camus himself a few times, and it often ended with Haruka thinking "wait? that's kinda messed up?" and Camus insisting it's nothing/it's normal so yeah that's something...
His parents were in an unhappy arranged marriage, and his mother was forced to birth an heir which traumatized her so much that she can't see Camus without falling ill. Overall it's a pretty tragic situation since what happened to her was horrible, though not Camus's fault either. Even now she refuses to see him, and I wouldn't say that makes him sad because he never really met her, but simply knowing of her sacrifice probably adds a lot of pressure. As in, he only exists for this one purpose (inheriting his father's title and serving the country), so if he doesn't play his part correctly, it would have all been for nothing.
He was raised by his father not as a child or son but as the heir, always treated and judged as an adult (even during physical training apparently, make of that what you will)



When Haruka asks about childhood memories he has a very hard time finding something that doesn't have to do with his duties or the nation. And then admits he didn't truly have a "childhood" since he was never treated like a child
As for the queen, I think his love for her is sincere: she taught him a lot of things growing up, and according to him, she's also a victim trapped by her duties so he wants to ease the burden.
So hypothetically, if he found things or people that made him happy in Japan, he would feel obligated to lock them away because that happiness is incompatible with his life: he'll have to leave when his mission ends, he shouldn't be spending time on things that aren't "useful" as he doesn't have the free will to pursue them
In his mind he's completely tied down by the fact that he was born and raised for a single reason, and the fact that he does want to serve the queen.

(This is Saotome describing him btw)
Also it might sound ridiculous to bring his self-worth into question because of how pretentious he is, but I've counted a few situations where he seemed to have complete disregard for his own life, only worrying about Haruka and Cecil's safety in scenes when they were present. And he thinks wanting to be loved unconditionally is a childish thought he shouldn't have.
"Double Face" was a lie. There's like at least 10 layers
On the surface he does have two personas, his perfect polite butler act for the media, and his cold bitchy attitude off camera. But honestly, even when he's not acting as a butler, he's often putting up a front to hide any form of vulnerability (from himself as well)
His main struggle is finding who he is outside of what he's being told to do. Before, he never actually stopped to think about what he WANTS because it just never occurs to him, or if it does he ignores it.
That's why realizing that he has his own desires is essential to his character development, and him staying with Quartet Night (and Haruka in his routes) is so important. It's why Reiji feels the need to reach out and when he does, Camus either freezes up or tears up;


This all makes him the opposite of Ranmaru (being true to yourself and sincere), and similar to Ai (gradually learning to view the world in a less cold and logical way), but I kind of want to save that for another post lmao
He is especially hard on Cecil because Cecil says & does whatever he wants, and everything still works out for him, which is a way of life that Camus can't imagine for himself at all (despite maybe wanting it?)
That he can realize this and eventually admit out loud, despite all his pride, is also one of my favorite things about him


Season 2 does hint at something, so that's pretty cool!
Side note, I really love that his theme in the new Oracle series is "Change," the melting of ice.

So what was the anime supposed to do??
Of course there's no way to show all this in a single episode or even during the runtime of the anime, and I never expected them to because the story is very surface-level (that goes for all characters).
It's just unfortunate since the anime is the most accessible and well-known utapri media in the western fandom, and the character's main episode is bound to leave the biggest impression.
I understand the choice of being laser-focused on the servant plotline, it's supposed to be funny (?) and waters him down to a trope that's easy to understand at first glance (the step-on-me guy I guess)
Still, I can't help but compare it to Ranmaru's episode, who was also hard to work with in the games but was chill in S3E7 and got to pet cats. Anime onlys will never know how much Camus loves to dote on his dog smh.....
#please don't take this too seriously#i just wanted to cry about camus#uta no prince sama#utapri#camus (utapri)#quartet night#cecil aijima#ranmaru kurosaki#reiji kotobuki#ai mikaze#tag for me yapping about utapri
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Chasing Sparks- Danny Ramirez

Description: In a lively club, Danny finds himself drawn to a captivating woman enjoying her night alone. As the night progresses, their connection deepens and with that, a promise of something more happening in the future.
Warnings: None, Fluff, RPF Fic.
ââââââââââââââââââ-
The club throbbed with life, lights synchronized to the pulsing beat, wrapping Danny in a haze of laughter and chatter. He reveled in the afterglow of his favorite football teamâs victory, surrounded by friends raising their beers in celebration. Their voices echoed with animated banter, recounting highlights of the game, but his attention kept drifting. Amid the raucous energy, his gaze landed on herâdancing alone on the floor, completely lost in her own world. Her eyes were closed, lips moving softly to a song she seemed to know by heart.
For a moment, he watched her, mesmerized by the way she moved with carefree abandon, a smile playing on her lips. She radiated an infectious joy that made him want to know her, to understand the stories behind those dancing eyes. As he took a sip of his beer, he noticed her walking to the bar, and a guy sidling too close to her while she ordered a drink, his intentions clearly clouded by alcohol.
âHey there, beautiful,â the guy said, leaning in a little too close, invading her space. âWhy donât you let me buy you a drink? I promise youâll have a much better time.â
She tried to back him off, her demeanor serious, but he kept pushing, his breath heavy with booze. âCome on, itâll be fun. Just one drink, what do you say?â
A flicker of concern ignited within Danny as he watched the interaction unfold. He could see her discomfort growing, and without hesitation, he made his move.
âHey, babe, I was looking for you everywhere,â he said, striding up with an easy confidence and lightly touching her arm. She looked at him, confusion etched on her face, but it faded as she caught his protective glare aimed at the intruder.
âDid you order the drinks already?â he continued, feigning casualness while glaring at the intruder.
âUhh yeah. Heâs making them as we speak,â she replied, her voice steady.
The guy frowned, clearly taken aback. âNo man should leave his girl alone. Come on, just give me a chance.â
Danny stepped in closer, his tone firm but calm. âBack off, dude,â he said, his voice dropping an octave, each word sharp with warning. âIf you get any closer, youâre going to regret it.â
With a huff, the guy finally stumbled away, defeated by the protective aura Danny had created around her. She turned to Danny, relief noticeable in her eyes.Â
âThanks. I had it handled, though,â she replied, a hint of defiance in her tone as she turned back to him.
âYeah, it seemed like it. But guys here can be unpredictable. Better safe than sorry, right?â he said, casually leaning against the bar.
âRight.â She smiled, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before shifting back to the bartender. âIâll cover the next round of whatever heâs drinking.â
Danny chuckled, shaking his head. âYou really donât have to do that.â
âTake it as a thank-you. Youâre not going to refuse a free drink, are you?â she shot back, a playful glint in her eyes.
âTouchĂ©.â He raised his beer, and they clinked their bottles, laughter bubbling between them.
âSo, do you always rescue girls in bars?â She teased.
âOnly the interesting ones,â he eplied, a spark of mischief in his gaze.Â
As the night wore on, they exchanged stories about their livesâtrivial things that somehow felt significant. She shared her favorite pizza toppings while he recounted an embarrassing moment from the last game he played in high school. Their laughter mingled with the music, a thread weaving them closer together.
âSo, are you here on a trip?â Danny asked, genuinely curious.
âNo, not really. I just moved here recently. Figured Iâd see what all the fuss is about,â she replied, her enthusiasm infectious.
âYou donât mind doing things like this alone?â he asked, leaning in.
âNot at all. Iâve traveled solo everywhere. Thereâs something liberating about it. If I want to dance until my feet hurt, Iâm going to do just that.âÂ
Danny admired her spirit. âI like that. Freedom has its own charm.â
As the music played on, the club morphed into a backdrop for their connection. With each laugh and shared glance, the air between them thickened with unspoken possibility.
âOkay, so⊠come dance with me,â Danny suggested, emboldened by their chemistry. She raised a brow, surprise flickering in her eyes.
âArenât your friends waiting for you?â
âTheyâll figure out Iâm not coming back,â he replied, extending his hand. She hesitated, then took it, a spark of adventure igniting in her smile.
They moved to the dance floor, lost in the rhythm and each other. As they swayed together, the music enveloped them, and it felt as if they were in their own little universe. The vibrant lights reflected off her eyes, making them glisten like stars in the night. Danny spun her around, her laughter ringing like music, and their eyes locked in a moment that felt electric.
Every brush of their arms sent shivers through him, and every shared smile drew them closer. His hand rested lightly on her waist, the proximity of their faces igniting a spark of undeniable chemistry. She seemed completely at ease dancing with this stranger who felt oddly familiar, her movements fluid and free.
With each playful tease, Danny's smile widened as their faces ended up mere centimeters apart, the tension between them palpable. Time seemed to suspend around them, leaving only the intoxicating connection they were weaving in the dim, pulsing light of the club.
After a while, they found a quieter spot near the bar, the energy of the club still buzzing but softer now, the crowd thinning out. âSo, what do you do when youâre not dancing alone in clubs?â he asked, genuinely intrigued.
âIâm an artist. I paint. It helps me express everything I feel inside,â she revealed, her eyes brightening.
Danny leaned in, fascinated. âThatâs amazing! What do you paint?â
âMostly landscapes and portraits. I love capturing moments. You know, like this one,â she said, glancing around the club before settling her gaze back on him, a warmth spreading through their conversation.
The vibe shifted subtly as they both realized the night was coming to a close; the club was beginning to empty. âI guess itâs time for me to head out,â she said, glancing around.
âYeah, me too. Iâll walk you out,â Danny replied, feeling an undeniable urge to extend their time together.
As they stepped outside, the cool night air wrapped around them, a stark contrast to the heat of the club. The world felt quieter now, but the electricity between them still felt very alive. âSpeaking of embracing special moments, am I going to see you again?â he asked, his voice dipping with sincerity, eyes locked onto hers.
âDo you want to see me again?â she shot back, a teasing smile dancing on her lips, her breath warm and inviting in the night air.
âUhh, yeah⊠I would. Only if thatâs something youâd be interested in, too. No pressure,â Dannyâs heart raced as he searched her gaze for an answer.
Her smile softened, and she extended her hand. âHand me your phone for a sec.â
He handed it over, watching as she saved her number under âY/N.â âThis should be a good start,â she said, her tone light yet laced with significance.
â Iâm counting on you to not disappoint me.â Her gaze lingered on his, an unspoken confession pulsing between them, palpable and electric.
Just then, her Uber pulled up, the headlights cutting through the darkness of the street. âThatâs my ride. Iâll talk to you later?â she said, glancing back with a playful smile that made his heart skip.
âYeah⊠of course. Take care, (Y/N). It was truly a pleasure,â he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the moment was too precious to disturb.
âSame over here. Night, Danny.â
As she turned to leave, something inside him stirred, an irresistible urge to seize the moment. In one swift motion, he stepped closer, cupping her cheek with a gentle yet firm hand. Their eyes locked, and for a brief second, the world around them fell away. He leaned in, heart pounding, and their lips brushed softly, igniting a spark that sent shivers down his spine.
Her eyes widened in surprise, a fleeting look of astonishment that quickly melted into a radiant smile. She leaned into him, deepening the kiss, and in that heartbeat, everything else fadedâthe noise, the crowd, the nightâleaving just the two of them suspended in their own private moment.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, a lingering warmth enveloped them. She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, happiness dancing in her eyes. âWow,â she whispered, as if still trying to process what had just happened. âI didnât see that coming.â
He couldnât help but smile back, the thrill of the moment coursing through him. âNeither did I,â he admitted softly, his voice low and sincere.
As the sound of the approaching car broke their bubble, she glanced back, knowing her ride was waiting. âI guess this is it for now,â she said, her tone a blend of reluctance and excitement.
âYeah, it is,â he replied, feeling a pang of disappointment mixed with hope.
With one last lingering gaze, she leaned in and whispered, âGoodbye, Danny,â her breath brushing against him like a whisper of promise.
He watched as she slipped into the backseat, his heart racing. With a gentle touch, he closed the car door, a final gesture filled with his warm charming smile. As the car pulled away, he couldnât shake the feeling that this night was just the beginning of something extraordinary.
Days later, he found himself gazing at his phone, fingers hovering over the screen as he typed:
âI canât stop thinking about you.â
After hitting send, a smile spread across his face, the thrill of anticipation enveloping him like a warm embrace. She was different, and every part of him ached to uncover the countless details that made her who she was. Little did he know, this was just the beginning of a connection that would change everything.
____________________________
Is it obvious that Iâm a simp for Danny Ramirez?
Still wanting to read more? Here are some other Danny's shots to read. You're welcome!!!!
#danny ramirez x (y/n)#danny ramirez x you#danny ramirez fic#danny ramirez#danny ramirez gif pack#danny ramirez x reader#joaquin torres#fanboy#fanboy x reader#joaquin torres x you#joaquin torres x reader
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The Little Death â 5. Patterned behaviour
â PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader
â SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.
â WARNINGS: none
â WORDCOUNT: 2.1k
â TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw
Give me the judgment of balanced minds in preference to laws every time. Codes and manuals create patterned behaviour. All patterned behaviour tends to go unquestioned, gathering destructive momentum. â Darwi Odrade
It was easy to fall to the bed afterwards, as if she belonged there. Because she did now. Feyd was still catching his breath when she curled up beside him, her knees brushing against his hip, their sweat soaking into the bedsheets. A Fremen wouldâve been outraged at the sight.
âCruel witch,â he rasped.
âWhat was so cruel?â she asked, trailing a finger through the inky mess on his stomach. âYou enjoyed it, didnât you?â
He slapped her hand out of the way â but there was not so much aggression in the move as there was a certain vulnerability, like an animal slapping at his masterâs hand. Feyd heaved himself upward to get out of the bed, but she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him down again.
âWhere are you going?â
âTo wash myself.â
âWhy?â she said, her touch softening into a gentle caress across the muscles on his chest. âI like you this wayâŠâ
âFilthy woman,â he laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners.
She couldnât help herself and smiled. Even with his frightful black teeth â which in Harkonnen culture, she had read, was supposed to be quite attractive â his boyish nature came through to show something sweet and vulnerable. What a brilliant plan it had been to give him governorship over Arrakis⊠After Rabban, Feyd must have appeared to the natives like a heavenly angel. She reached up and caressed his soft cheek, his hard jawline, tracing the edge of his generous lips.
âSleep, my na-Baron,â she said, laying down beside him, holding his gaze. âYou will dream of pleasant things tonight.â
âIs that a promise?â he grinned.
She knew he was making light of his nightmares, and in a way dismissing them entirely. There might come a time when they would have to address them directly â if he was serious about wanting her to serve him as his Bene Gesserit, and if she didnât escape first â but clearly it was not tonight.
Under her soft caresses, Feyd fell asleep quite fast. She followed, slipping first into a meditation, and then into the land of dreams. And even in her sleep, the only thing she felt, and saw, and tasted, was his body.
When she woke up the next morning, she noticed sheâd been moved. She was higher on the bed now, laying against the multitude of pillows, and all covered up. Feyd was sitting on the edge, getting ready.
âYou were cold,â he said without even turning. His hearing was better than she thought⊠âAnd, for that matter, so was I.â
âYou tucked me in?â she smiled. âHow sweet of youâŠâ
âNone of that,â he said roughly, turning to level a cold stare at her. âYou did a very naughty thing last night. Weâre going to have to⊠discuss it. But not right now.â
She swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded, but deep down she was already preparing for how to turn things to her favour next. He loves pain, she told herself. That is his lever. Use it.
As he continued to get dressed, she watched him. He wasnât very good at it â probably was used to servants helping him, and they werenât here right now â but he knew well enough how to put his armour on. She was almost tempted to help him, but then she remembered that she was supposed to have a different purpose.
âI suppose I should get dressed as well,â she said as she slinked off the bed.
âWhy is that?â
âI serve you now. I should be there with you. To advise you.â
âAdvise me?â he chuckled. âWhat do you know of military strategy?â
More than you, she thought, but she wasnât even sure that was completely true. It was a mystery to her, what Harkonnens taught their young.
âI know Arrakis,â she said, coming to sit beside him. They cut a striking picture, him in his black armour and her in her naked skin, both looking equally confident. âAnd perhaps, my lord na-Baron, you can learn more about what a Bene Gesserit can do.â
âOr what she canât do,â he muttered. But there was already a surrender in his gaze. He had decided to bring her along, now he only had to decide how to admit it. âNo talking about me,â he pointed out. âTo anyone.â
âOf course.â
âAnd no bragging about⊠about ââ
âI wouldnât dare.â
He chuckled. âIâve heard that one before. I didnât believe it back then, either.â
She didnât miss the strange glances the other servants gave as she passed by, close behind Feyd-Rautha. They had breakfast together in a lavish dining hall, one with a long, black table and lights suspended high above. Sheâd never seen this room beforeâŠ
His brother, Rabban, wasnât there, and neither was the Baron.
âDo you always eat alone, my lord?â she asked him, sitting somewhere in the centre of the table, a respectable number of seats away, while Feyd sat at the head.
âDepends on what Iâm eating,â he answered with a grin. âBesides, Iâm not alone today, am I?â
âNo,â she smiled. âYou are not.â
He didnât speak for the rest of the meal. He ate, in fact, in a hurry, eyeing her critically every now and then, judging her for how slowly she was chewing. And when he finished, he got up without even considering her presence. He paused in the doorway as he heard her scrambling to get up and follow, and bowed his head â he was suddenly regretful. Another habit of eating alone was, perhaps, his lack of consideration for others. Heâd completely forgotten her by the time he finished breakfastâŠ
She joined at his side without complaint, happy to already be doing her service: teaching him healthy new habits. Feyd looked at her quietly for a moment, and then they left together.
The day was spent in a strategy meeting, which he started without giving the time to any of his generals to question why she was there. The sight of a Bene Gesserit among the Harkonnen mustâve been rare indeed â or even that of a woman who wasnât a slave or a serving girl.
They spoke their jagged language, and in phrases that were blissfully short. It was easy enough for her to understand even without a full vocabulary.
âPush them to the edge,â said Feyd as he stood above the map, fiddling with a neat little blade in his hands, a shiny thing of white silver. âThe worms will finish what the storms do not.â
âYes, sir, na-Baron.â
âSearch scouting parties up ahead before you send in more harvesters. And I want a map of the richest spice fields by tomorrow morning.â
âEr, yes, yes sir.â
She eyed all the proceedings in silence, and in the mist of fear and anxiety, the other men completely forgot her. Their minds were so easy to read, their emotions so clear on their faces, on their hands, in the way they held themselves⊠And in their centre, Feyd, speaking to them as if they were Ixian automatons without any thought or feeling.
She waited for the meeting to be over before she finally joined his side and spoke.
âThat was productive.â
âWas it?â he sighed, bracing his arms against the table. The door closed with finality behind his frightened generals. âI didnât know you spoke our language,â he noted with a cocked brow.
âI am learning,â she smiled.
âRabban left me a complete mess. It will take months to undo it.â
âYears. And you donât have as much time as you think.â
âReally? Well, speak plainly, now.â
She turned, leaning lightly against the table so that she could better look at him. He was less sure of himself now than he had been around his menâŠ
âIf you push the Fremen too hard, they could go south. It is out of reach for us, out of control.â
âNothing survives out there.â
âHow do you know, if nobodyâs ever been there but Fremen?â
He bit his lip and frowned, but didnât disagree. âAnd you would do, what?â
âRelax the attacks. Give them a false sense of security. Bait them into ââ
âInto exposing themselvesâŠâ
âExactly.â
âBut these savages wonât do that. They know weâve got superior firepower. Their strength lies in their secret tactics.â
She shrugged. âYou have a pointâŠâ
âBut if⊠if we had to approach this like a fight between a stronger man and a weaker manâŠâ he said, thinking out loud as he began to pace.
She looked at him and said nothing, letting the ideas germinate in his head.
âItâs late, itâs hot,â he sighed. âIâll think about it more tomorrow.â
âYes, my lord na-Baron. You still havenât even had lunch.â
âIâll have dinner. Weâll have dinner.â
âAnother thing though⊠That map you requested.â
âWhat about it?â
âThe spice fields on Arrakis are highly changeable and depend on many variables. It can take days for someone to calculate their frequency. Less if you had a Mentat. Or a thinking machineâŠâ
Feyd chuckled. âWorried? Since when do you care about the fate of my men?â
âI donât care about his fate. I care about whether he provides you with false information just to save his neck.â
âHm⊠Iâll see what he brings me tomorrow,â he smirked, looking pointedly at her, âand maybe have you look at it.â
She paused, already unhappy with the charge she was given. Mathematical calculations were not her strong suit, but she understood she needed to submit to Feydâs testing if she expected to be kept around.
âYes, my lord,â she said with a light bow.
âNow, then. Letâs eat.â
She could already tell that his habits were changing. He watched her more closely and was clearly thinking about her, considering her from every angle. Although Feyd-Rautha made no effort to hide what he was feeling, she found it hard to pinpoint just what was going through his head that evening.
She met his gaze with more confidence than she felt but allowed him to watch her openly too, letting him enjoy the moments of peace between them. He seemed to only like speaking to her when the servants left the room.
âYou like to watch, donât you?â he asked, leaning back against his tall, elegant seat.
âI believe youâve been doing the watching, my na-Baron,â she smirked.
âNo, no, you know what I mean⊠I mean throughout the day. Us. All of us. Youâre learning our language now? Youâre studying our strategies. You think, you donât speakâŠâ he listed, his cold eyes set on her as their meals waited untouched before them. âUntil my generals have goneâŠâ
âOf course. I would not have them think your orders can be questioned.â
âEven though you question them.â
âThatâs only for you to know,â she smiled.
Feyd smiled back. He suspected her of many things â both past and future betrayals â but in that moment, he appreciated her.
âAre you trying to learn more about me, my na-Baron?â
âWhy not? Youâre learning about us.â
âI think youâll find me less inscrutable. If you wish to know something, simply ask.â
Feyd nodded and turned his attention to his plate at last. He cut into the meat, he moved the garnishings around, but before he could bring it to his lips he set the fork down loudly and looked up at her again.
âWhy did you do that to me last night?â he quickly asked.
âBecause you liked it.â
âDonât play dumb with me. Youâre not as good at it as you think. How did you know I would like it?â
She set her knife and fork down too, and let her wrists rest upon the table. He was pulling her into something she wasnât sure she wanted to confess, and she knew she couldnât get him to forget it without using those Bene Gesserit tricks he hated so much. Perhaps there was a way to still turn this around in her favourâŠ
âI merely recognised what I knew so well,â she answered quietly, her voice floating through the penumbra toward him.
âAnd where did you recognise it from?â
âFrom myself.â
Feyd leaned back again, his lips pulled into a grin. There was doubt in his eyes, but the rest of him seemed so intrigued, so glad about this new development, that she could almost guess what he was going to say next.
Heâll want to see it, she thought. Heâll want to see me like that. Exposed. Vulnerable before him.
âShow me,â he said, confirming everything.
#Feyd#Feyd Rautha Harkonnen#Feyd Rautha#Dune#Dune part 2#Dune fanfiction#Dune imagine#Feyd Rautha x reader#Feyd x reader#Feyd Rautha fanfic#Feyd Rautha imagine#sswallow;fanfics#sswallow;made a thing#fanfic;littledeath
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Favorite present! ~ Megumi Fushiguro x GN! Reader
A/N i live for soft boy megumi like SORRY but he is sensitive I donât make the rules. i love him sm and plan to write more for him in the future.
If you were to ask Megumi Fushiguro what his favorite present was this year, he would probably say you.
Wc:1086
"Meguuumiiii" You whine from the hall, holding a cardboard box full of your friends' presents. Ones you handmade with blood, sweat, and literal tears. In fact, you had begun the project as early as October (before Halloween even).
What at first seemed to be a cute idea of making stuffed animals soon turned into a pain in the ass, taking up most of your free time. Of course when you and Megumi would see each other you would refrain from letting it distract you but the very second he left or even fell asleep there you went-crocheting away. When he would walk in your dorm after a long day of class?
There you sat, legs crossed and an ever-so determined look on your face. Hunched over in a way that looked painful-which it definitely was because you had been complaining about your horrible back pain for the past two months.
Every time the two of you would FaceTime you would be groaning and sighing, complaining about how it was crooked or you put too much stuffing. That your fingers were cramping or now you need to start all over because it looks just awful.
Oh how annoying it was for Megumi to sit and watch you suffer over something absolutely no one is forcing you to do. He told you countless times to just give up and âbuy everyone gift cards like a normal personâ.
But he soon learned his lesson because every single time he said anything like that it just ended in a speech about how important it is to âfinish things you startedâ and you âpromised yourself it wouldnât be another abandoned project sitting in the closetâ. Yes, Megumi understands. He still thinks you are insane. And he will tell you so.
âIsnât that why you love me?â You say and he can only nod.
Megumi loves your tenacious spirit. How passionate you are about the things you care for. How lucky he is to be one of the things you are very passionate about. It is the only reason he continues to support you in your endeavor. As long as you promise you will not be doing this shit again next year. He even puts a cute little Santa hat on and wears matching slippers with you. It only took like five minutes of begging!
The only thing that continues to bother him is that you did not make him one. Surely you would have mentioned it by now. He would have seen it one of the countless times he walked in to find your room scattered with yarn and your many ârough draftsâ. He would also be lying if he did not admit he went snooping around a few times when you were showering in the hopes of finding his.
Kugisaki is getting a white bunny. A pink bear for Itadori. Thereâs an animal for Maki, Yuuta, Inumaki, Gojo, a panda for Panda (duh), and nothing for him.
Maybe you forgot. Youâve been so busy making all of them and it must have slipped your mind. You probably did not even think he would want one. He has no stuffed animals in his room or anything even remotely similar. Itâs not like he would cuddle it at night and think about you or anything.
So he delivers the gifts with you-with a smile on his face. Whatever Megumi considers to be a smile at least. Even ignoring the comments of how âwhoopedâ he is to be standing there matching with you. A thing he once swore he would never do.
Until he met you. You softened him up like butter. Gone is the aggression that was always his go-to in any situation. The way you loved him made him feel complete. He used to find it absurd that falling in love could change a person.
But you change him for the better. You challenge him emotionally without trying to change who he is deep down. You bring out the best and suppress the worst of him. Oh how Megumi loves you, more than words can describe.
It is your first Christmas together. As a couple at least so he may have went a bit overboard with the presents. He was trying very hard to impress you. He would be deeply embarrassed if he got you a bunch of presents and you got him nothing.
Surely that would not happen. You gave him a present last year. Why would this one be any different?
He is just anxious, a feeling he knows a bit too well. Megumi is an overthinker, sometimes he will let even the smallest things eat him up inside. He is nervously chewing at the inside of his cheek, holding the now empty box as you finish giving away your last present.
You grab his hand, squeezing it tight before pressing a kiss onto his cheek. âThanks for coming with me handsome. Im so glad this is overâ You groan and he chuckles at the exasperated look on your face. âYou were so right. Never againâ You peck his cheek again and he smiles contently.
Your touch is so comforting he does not even realize the two of you are heading back to your dorm instead of his. Too lost in the warmth of your smooth hands and intoxicating giggle.
It is not until you open the door and walk him inside that he understands that all of his worries were for nothing. Sometimes he forgets that you might love him just the same way he loves you. Maybe even more like you swear you do. He feels almost silly for doubting you. As he should.
Your small twin bed is covered in presents. His presents. They range all different sizes. But right in the middle, atop one of the gifts sits two little crochet figures.
Two wolves, a white and a black one.
His chest is warm and tingly. Megumi pulls you into a hug. Arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his head digging into the nape of your neck-he swallows the lump forming in his throat.
âThank youâ Megumi sighs into your chest, moving up to kiss your neck lovingly.
âOhh Megsâ You chuckle, trying to jump excitedly up and down but his arms prevent you from doing so. They grip you tighter. âYou need to open them first!â
And he says something so cheesy he would have thrown up if the moment wasnât so sweet. âYouâre the only present I needâ
#megumi fushiguro#jjk megumi#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#jjk x reader#megumi x gn reader#jjk
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Winter's King 21

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, 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 are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: I am very tired.
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. I will do my best to answer all I can. Iâm trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I havenât forgotten those!) Please do not just put âmoreâ. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. đ
As promised, the king acquires you a full outfit to face the cold. A fur trimmed hat to replace your standard linen cap, a pair of lined hide gloves, and thick boots that go to your knees. He has bolstered you to face the elements but you are wholly unprepared to face the corridors as the glances of soldiers and servants meet you with a new glint of judgement. Â
You wear the kingâs cloak as before. You keep your head low under the hood as he walks ahead of you. It is a farce. A poorly acted charade. How naive youâd been for so long not see through it all. You were the perfect fool for an intent audience.Â
You descend and come out to the west of the castle, through a door beneath a sharply peaked arch. The snow continues to heap over the land though the winds have relented. The king pauses as you emerge and reaches to take you by the wrist, as if he fears you might be lost in the powder.Â
He walks you across the yard towards the stables built across a flat of land nestled along a curved rock wall. The doors creaks as he pushes through and the heat of braziers and horsesâ bodies greets you within. Sniffs, snorts, and knickers rise in the air as you walk between the stalls. There is one in which a single horse resides, the rest crowded in pairs and trios.Â
You look up at the steedâs dark snout, itâs eyes even bleaker as it snuffs out harshly. Itâs nostrils flair at your approach and the king clicks his tongue at the beast. It raises its nose then shakes its head. Itâs ebony iris fixates on you as its master touches its braided mane.Â
âRoach,â you murmur into the dry air.Â
âYou remember,â he comments gently.Â
âYes,â you watch the horse as it watches you. It bows its head, nose coming close to yours, fuming hot breath around you. It sniffs the trim of your hood.Â
âLet the animal see you,â the king advises.Â
You bring your hands up and push back the hood, letting it hang over your shoulders. You stare at the dark eyes. Roach continues to twitch his nose in your direction then further dips his head, pressing against your chest. Uncertain, you bring your hands to touch his soft ears.Â
âAh,â the king sighs, âRoach is rarely partial to any but me. Even I receive a nip or too from the curmudgeon.â He chuckles and touches the horseâs thick neck. âothers have nearly lost a finger and even sacrificed garment or two.âÂ
âA creature so volatile, he makes a good war horse?âÂ
âShe,â he corrects you.Â
âOh, apologies.âÂ
âI doubt she minds,â he muses and pets her long nose as she raises her head. âShe is restless. She would do good for the exercise.âÂ
He lowers his hand and unclasps the stall door. He pulls it out as you step out of the way. The horse clomps through, kicking impatiently as it blows through its lips. The king moves parallel to you and draws you before him. Before you or Roach can react, he has you aloft, urging you onto the horseâs unsaddled back.Â
âHold tight,â he girds and puts his hands to the horseâs shoulder, âcome, Roach.âÂ
The horse starts and you press your hands to her back, clamping on with your thighs. You rock with her motion to keep from slipping. You duck with the mount as she bends through the door the king holds open. The winter snows dusts down on you as you emerge.Â
The king drags his palm along the horseâs side and swings himself up with little effort. He sit behind you, Roach not missing a step or buckling at his ascent. He pulls you snug to him, tugging up your hood as the chill nips at your cheeks. He wraps his arms around you and clutches a swathe of the horseâs braids. He whistles and leans, guiding the horse away from the castle.Â
âShe is obedient,â you remark at her agile response.Â
âI prefer mares for that reason,â he returns. You wonder if it is a quip meant for the queen or yourself. Perhaps both. âIt isnât very far, though the path is steep.âÂ
You nod and stare at the white expanse, a few jutting rocks pocking out above the carpet of snow, leafless branches reaching out here and there. The horse carries you to a ledge, narrow and treacherous, and you lean back into the King Geralt as the edge has you dizzy. He slips his hand beneath your cloak to squeeze your hip.Â
âI have you, treasure, you neednât fear,â he assures.âÂ
âYes, your highness, thank you,â you touch his knuckles and shiver.Â
âSweet summer maid,â he purrs as he draws you snugger. âThis winter is harsh but I will keep you warm.âÂ
You shudder and hang your head. For so much comfort as he offers, you find little. It isnât only the snow which chills you.Â
You ride on, the impact of hooves softened by the layers below, the air hollow and biting as it seeps beneath your hood. The sky ripples grey and seems to darken as you descend the curling path along the cliffâs edge. At once, you are plunged into thick blackness.Â
The world levels out and the king shifts, sliding off the mount to land on his feet. You peek over your shoulder and see the grim light through the mouth of the cave. The king touches your leg and you turn, letting him help you from the height. Roach kicks and spits.Â
The king frames your waist before he releases you. You listen to his steps as he moves through the dim. Thereâs is a scratch as he strikes flint and flame illuminates his shadow. He bends and takes something from the ground. He pauses and works with one hand, wrapping something around the thick stick. He lights the length of linen around the woodâs tip, a torch to see you along.Â
âShe will stay, she is not keen on confinement, especially underground,â he girds and removes his own cloak, draping it over the horses back, âthe air enlivens me, I shouldnât need that much.âÂ
He wears a leather coat, sewn of thick strips of black and studded with silver. He approaches you and bends his arm, offering it gallantly as a gentleman might with a lady. You hesitate and hook your arm through it, hugging his elbow as he leads you deeper, the torch flickering with each step.Â
You enter a tunnel with rocky tendrils stretching from top to bottom, encased in layers of ice and frost. The flame illuminates the frozen layers. Deeper and deeper you go, quiet as your curiosity mingles with concern. Where are you going?Â
Your boot slips on a slippery patch but the king keeps you upright. You thank him and bring your other arm across to steady yourself on his bicep. You feel his muscle bulging beneath. You do not doubt his promises. He will keep you safe. Down here, but you doubt what he might do without.Â
He raises the torch as the air thins and you the cave opens up. You look around as the walls lay beyond the breadth of the torches glow. Your eyes are drawn by the icy fingers hanging from the ceiling. There is one close to you. You reach to touch its pointed tip.Â
âIcicles,â the king says, âbe careful of the thin ones, they might fall.âÂ
He moves the torch to show more, all around you, light fangs the line the cave, lining the edges. The flame sparkles on their eerie translucence. Then the king lowers the light and you look down beneath your feet. Youâre stand on ice!Â
âYour highness,â you instinctively pull yourself closer to him, your soles sliding as you try to walk further.Â
âIt will not break,â he assures you as he urges you on, âthis cave never thaws, even in the warmer months. They call it the Mothâs Den.â He leads you across the ice and your eyes catch on the icicles, thick and thin, some pointed, some reach to touch the floor. You hear an odd hum, almost a buzz, and he sweeps the torch before you.Â
You stop to gape at the wall before you. It looks soft and fluffy, almost like fur. Then you lean closer and see the wings. Pale silver moths, fluttering in place, clinging to the wall. Their fuzzy bodies line every morsel of the space.Â
âSnow moths. Harmless creatures. Unlike their summer counterparts, the detest the light,â he extends his arm and a circle along the icy wall is sudden bare as the moths move to avoid the glare. âWhen I was a boy, I always wanted to have one as a pet. I could never get one past the entrance before it escaped and flew back to the depths.âÂ
You blink and lower your hand from his arm, though you stay hooked onto him, âI didnât think this was your home.âÂ
âAs a boy it was. At least, thatâs how I saw it. My father, king of the day, sent me here to train with Lord Vesemir. As much to keep me out of trouble. I am not unaware of myself. I was not the best behaved. Vesemir took me in and he bides no mischief,â King Geralt explains, âthough he does not rule without compassion. He taught me many things more than discipline. He taught me,â the king peers over at you, âthat my heart should be heard just as plainly as my mind. If you do not balance them, then it will all topple.âÂ
You look back at him. Your chest aches deeply. Doesnât he know you donât have that privilege? Can he not see that you do not get that choice? Even for a king.Â
You might never had cared for Lady Rezlyn and her gossip. You think it cruel and unkind. Often you wonder if she spoke less of others, if she might gain more friends. You never engaged much in Merindaâs whispers either. But you heard them and you know what becomes of mistresses.Â
The other woman. Thatâs what youâll become. A whore. A name to be spat. A figure to be avoided. A maid might be ignored but she neither favoured or despised. She just is. She has her purpose. A mistress only has the stain put upon her. The one who taints who my walk away, but she never will.Â
âThe ice becomes you, treasure. The cold it... pales to your beauty,â he smiles down at you. His gold eyes are vibrant and his fine features are even more admirable in the limn of the flame.Â
He lifts his chin and takes steady steps away from the wall and leads you towards a jutting stone at the other end of the cavern. He bends to plant the torches base in the crevice at its foot. The torch leans but stands on its own.Â
He faces you, untangling from your arm, and puts his hands on your shoulders, âI want to know what you think. Tell me. Do you like my homeland? Do you like the winter?âÂ
Your lips part and you glance up. Your eyes wander around the space and you turn your head. You raise your hands to touch the kingâs leather gloves.Â
âI think I do,â you answer. You canât deny the beauty even if it is deadly. âI might think differently should I meet a bear or a wolf.âÂ
âIt is why you must stay close, treasure, I would never let a beast get anywhere near,â he avows, âI refer to all beasts. Be it man or animal. You will always have me. You neednât be afraid.âÂ
You lower your eyes. You canât say the truth. He knows it but he refuses it. His is a king, he might bend even the world to his whim. You let your hands trails down his forearms. He drops his hands and takes yours.Â
âWill you tell me more? About when you were a boy?â You ask, hoping to forget the present a little longer. You are intrigued to think of this man as just a child. It is a rather impossible concept.Â
âHm, well,â he lets go of you and moves around you. He comes behind you and presses himself to your back. He rocks you as he turns you to admire the cave, âI would come to these caves and talk to myself...â he laughs rockily, âyou see, if you holler loud enough, your voice bounces back at you. Lord Vesemir, he is not always in the mind for conversation and horses can be just as finicky.âÂ
He continues to turn you with him. Even without his cloak, his warmth seeps into you.Â
âAnd I would gather bouquets of frostwart and white willowrods for they are the closest to flowers that grow here. I would put the bunches all around, as if I was too be coronated. I was told every day I would be king and I wanted to be ready, but mostly, Iâd pretend I was at tourney. I would have my practice sword and I would parry with the air. The air was not so mean as Vesemir with his jabs.âÂ
You listen, closing your eyes, trying to see it in your head. A white-haired boy with his golden eyes and flowers and swords. Now a man whoâs marched through blood and dirt. How time changes more than the seasons, it transforms all.Â
âWhat of you, maid? I want to know of you. When you were a child, did you frolic with the rabbits and the squirrels?âÂ
You go rigid. You try to pull away but he has you caught. You lean back and exhale heavily.Â
âThe life of a maid isnât very interesting,â your murmur.Â
âYou were always a maid? Even when you were young?âÂ
âAlways,â you affirm. âI emptied pots, brought Lord Dustan his boots, though at times, Lady Jazlene required a playmate...âÂ
Heâs quiet at the mention of his wife. You feel the crack in your heart. Your nose is numb and tingling.Â
âYet, how did you become a maid? Before that, was there nothing?â He asks.Â
âPlease, your highness--âÂ
âI bid you call me by my name.âÂ
âGeralt,â you utter, âplease, I beg you, I wouldnât speak of before.âÂ
âDid you have parents? Siblings--âÂ
âNone of it,â you hiss and elbow away from him, throwing your arms out to keep balance. You spin and shake your head, âplease. My parents are dead. Long gone. And the memories I have of them are nothing more than that. Theyâve only ever been dead to me.âÂ
He is taken aback, his face pale and cheeks tight, âtreasure, forgive me, I only... I want to know everything of you--âÂ
âYou know what I am. I am a maid. That is it. That is all I can ever be. I am not a lady, not a wife, not a queen,â you clap your hands together, the impact softened by your mittens, âyou cannot make me anything different, king as you may be. I will only ever serve, and you will only ever command.âÂ
His lips part and he steps towards you, âthat isnât true.âÂ
âItâs what must be true,â you look to your feet, âmight I make a request?âÂ
âAnything,â he says.Â
âTake me back to the castle,â you raise your eyes. Â
He nods solemnly and reaches for you, âas you wish.âÂ
#geralt of rivia#dark geralt#dark!geralt#geralt of rivia x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#au#medieval au#the witcher#winter's king
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Ais/Gender Neutral MC/Reader - "By Omission"
Summary: In your desire to better understand The Seaspring and study its effects, you take a vial from Kurasâs clinic with the goal of swiping a small amount of the blood red water.
Tags: Lies, Pet Names, Reader Is Main Character, Origin: The Alchemist, Plot Twists
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: I promise you I hate him so much. Pay no attention to the fact that this is my first complete fanfiction in this fandom despite trying and failing to write Leander for the past two years or the fact that I think heâs really fucking hot. I hate his ass so much that I couldn't get this shit out of my head and had to write it all in one sitting. (ÂŹ_ÂŹâ) me when I lie
Read it on AO3 here!
You brush past him, certain to bump shoulders as you focus your attention on the task of reaching the front doors without further incriminating yourself. You don't manage to break your stride until you feel a firm tug on your cloak, stopping you in place. âYou have something that doesn't belong to you, Sparrow.â
This place is quiet⊠again⊠but you're smart enough not to trust that you're alone. Especially after the way the feeling of being watched haunted you the last time.
Despite scouring the rafters with your vision, there's no sign of Ais here either. Maybe you'd caught him at a lucky time where he's away at the Wet Wick or fucking off elsewhere. Regardless, you worked quickly.
As if the scent and appearance weren't off-putting enough, you retained the persisting fear that even indulging your skin in The Seaspring may be enough to turn you into an animated corpse drone like Iris. Though clearly she wasn't a corpse⊠perhaps she'd always looked like that⊠which made you wonder what she'd looked like before her illness. What was she going through thatâd driven her to choose The Seaspring of all things?
You had to know. Had to understand. The reminder of her grotesque wound urged you to continue.
As a caveat to touching it, you instead poured directly from a nearby tea pot. Careful not to spill orâGod forbidâdrip any on your bandages.
You secure the vial in your cloak pocket, returning the teapot to its previous location before you turn on your heels. Without any sound or indication, you're bumped, nearly face first, into Aisâs chest. He looks scrutinizing, glaring down at you, his brows drawn together skeptically.
âWhat are you doing?â
You're startled by his uncharacteristically serious tone. Taking a step back, your mind raced a bit before you found the words you'd trained yourself to speak if you managed to encounter him.
âI-I'm doing some research about The Seaspring. I want to better understand how it works.â
âAsk me your questions then.â
Of course he couldn't just make this easy for you.
You scoffed, âYou don't have the answers I'm looking for. That's why I'm conducting research on my own.â
Ais says nothing but he doesn't look satisfied with your answer. He knows something, you can tell by his stiff demeanor and mannerisms. Every extra moment you spend under his gaze only makes the truth in your gut want to unwind more and more.
âNot that you'd know this since you trespassed last time, Sparrow, but we have strict rules for interacting with The Seaspring. Especially for outsiders.â
You shrugged, rolling your eyes, ever conscious of the glass vial in your pocket.
âLike what?â
âTake a guess.â
He challenged you, hand resting on his hip as you stared each other down. Despite your efforts to brush it off, the sensation that more eyes were watching you seemed to grow, unnerving you.
âListen, Ais, I don't have time for guessing games today. If there's a rule I should know, you'll have to read me the riot act another time, but I need to go.â
You brush past him, certain to bump shoulders as you focus your attention on the task of reaching the front doors without further incriminating yourself. You don't manage to break your stride until you feel a firm tug on your cloak, stopping you in place.
âYou have something that doesn't belong to you, Sparrow.â
You're frozen, unmoving as you hear the familiar sound of glass quietly clinking against your near empty wallet. Aisâs boots fall heavy as he strolls around to your front, your cloak and wallet bumping against your leg.
âKurasâs vial?â He weighed over the object in his outstretched hand. You didn't bother grabbing for it, knowing he'd be too fast to secure it.
âHe knows how to keep his distance from things he doesn't trust. Wonder if you stole this too.â
You snapped to correct him. âI didn't steal anything. Kuras gave me that.â
âDefensive.â He muttered. âIf he knew what you'd use it for he would've warned you not to bother.â
He had, in fact, warned you about The Seaspring, though unlike Ais, Kuras didn't find himself digging through your pockets or asking any unnecessary questions.
âGod doesn't like liars.â
âFuck off, I never lied about taking from The Seaspring.â
âLied by omission.â He clucked his tongue, closing his fingers around the vial in his palm.
âThat's strike two.â
âSo what? Are you done scolding me for breaking some little rule? Or are you still getting off on rubbing my nose in it?â
You're not allowed even a second between words before he's speaking again.
âYou think you're the first person to ever try this shit?â
âSenobium mages used to stop in all the time under the same bullshit pretenses as you. âResearchâ. Wanna know why they stopped? I'll give you a hint.â
The same doors that required all your body weight to launch through during your first time visiting, he pushed open with relative ease. You followed distantly behind him, arms crossed over your chest, obligation tempering your impatience.
Just a mere few feet from the entrance he tossed the vial, clacking down, undamaged, allowing it to roll gently across the ground before without warning, it burstâsending glass and liquid spraying across the small area. Your mouth hung open as you approached, his arm jutting out, blocking your exit. The previously red liquid had twisted, transforming into this black amorphous sludge as it bubbled and steamed against the dirt.
âItâs⊠fucking corrosive?â
âOutside of The Seaspring.â He answered.
âIt would've burst through that little vial, bled into your cloak, worked right through those clothes and bandages until it ate away at everything underneath.â
He met your gaze once more, an annoyance added to his already tense expression. âWould've eaten you from the outside in. And all you'd have left is The Seaspring to save you. Or me if you're lucky.â
He scaled the steps down to the path, kicking loose dirt over the still boiling liquid.
You had little to say now. As frustrating as it was to have your intended research interrupted, in doing so, Ais had actually⊠managed to save you from yourself.
What should you even say now? What do you say to somebody you hate sparing you from a slow and agonizing death. Suppose there's only one thing to say, really, despite the fact that it burns you up just thinking about it.
You sighed, dropping your plausible deniability act for just this moment. âThank yââ
âGet out of here.â He grit.
Having narrowly avoided accepting guilt or remorse up until this point, his words rubbed right up against your ego, unceremoniously deflating it.Â
An apology wasn't in your character, not when it came to Ais, and it wouldn't suffice anyhow, given the way he refused to acknowledge you as he scaled up the steps past you.
Careful to avoid the undulating pile of dirt, as you turned to look back, Ais didn't stop to meet your gaze this time. Instead a view of the doors closing shut and a slamming echo was all you were met with.
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Bonus shitpost
This is all I could think of when writing the scene of Ais grabbing the reader/MC's cloak. SORRY.

#touchstarved game#touchstarved vn#touchstarved fanfic#touchstarved ais#ts ais#ais x reader#ais x mc#ao3 fanfic#x y/n#x you#x reader#my fanfictions#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction#reader insert fic#reader interactive#x reader fanfiction#x reader fic#x female reader#fem reader#female reader#x female y/n#x fem!reader#x gender neutral reader#x gender neutral y/n#gender neutral reader#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral nsft#male reader#male y/n
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Just...something that popped into my brain as I remember seeing quite a bunch of people saying "Would You Fall In Love With Me Again (Epic the Musical) but it's Gelphie" so....
Booksical verse.
Elphie returns to Oz specifically to see Glinda (they're like 40-50 smth for this little oneshot, so whether or not Liir is nearby is for y'all to decide)
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Is it you?" Glinda is rooted on her spot, the only thing Elphaba sees moving are her hands, which are shaking. "Dear Oz, have my prayers actually been answered, or am I dreaming?" Glinda breathes out.
Elphaba takes one step forward. "Glinda...you look different."
"Do I?" She chuckles.
Elphaba nods. "Your eyes look tired. Your frame is lighter...and your smile's torn."
"Yours too, you know?" Glinda responds, finally moving from her spot to stand closer. "Is...is it really you?"
"I don't know how to answer that." Elphaba admits, her smile falling a little. "So much has happened...the Elphaba you met at Shiz and the one you saw before we parted...she's not me anymore. I am not the one you had adored."
Glinda lets out a huff. "You say that as if change isn't inevitable. I'm no longer those versions of me either." A shaky exhale follows. "I'm more similar to The Wizard than ever."
"I told you to not ruin your reputation, Glinda. I made you promise it." Said Elphaba. "And by doing you restored the Animal Rights at Oz. The Wizard had simply cared for his power, but you're actually figuring our how to utilize your power to make Oz better. You managed to make good, even if it is a slow process."
"I did that to honor you." Said Glinda. "This was your cause. I might have restored their rights, but it was you who made me understand."
"Yes...but it cost too much." Elphaba sighs. "I mean, the Animal Resistance...I've done too much." She holds up a hand, staring at her palm, she Elphaba once again sees all the chaos she has caused. What she's destroyed. People she left behind.
"I've figured." Said Glinda.
Elphaba sighs. "Would you accept me if I told you everything? Would you let me be yours again?"
That kiss resurfaces in Elphaba's mind. Oh how it felt so right, and even if the situation was wrong, it still feels right. She'd love to do it again, but hope is something she's never held onto.
The one time she did led to disaster.
"Elphaba..." Glinda sighs. "Oh getting through your thick skull is just as hard as it had always been. You know, I still manipulate to get my way, I deceived tons of people. I still let myself become this. This necessary evil to actually try to do something."
"Necessary evil?" Said Elphaba. "You mean wanting good but knowing that opposing sides still will make it hard that you have to result to more calculated measures that involve balancing morality and strategy to keep peace and stability? Glinda, that's just politics."
"Yet I still held out for you." Glinda responds.
"Me? I am the last person you should do that for, Glinda." Elphaba feels a lump grow in her throat as she remembers all she's done, believing that it was a means to an end. Nearly killing an entire crowd of children with a bomb...how she had bees sting a man to death that his corpse is unrecognizable...the whole affair with Fiyero... "It is foolish of me to even ask, naive of me. But please just answer me, if you knew it all, would you let me be yours again?"
Elphaba takes a deep breath.
"I am not the Elphaba you think you're honoring, Glinda." A shaky exhale escapes her. Suddenly, her vision blurs, all she can see and hear are people's screams, fire, bombs, Fiyero, Liir, the monastery, she sees red on her hands that don't go with the green.
"Then tell me, what kinds of things did you do?"
"There are stains of blood on my hands, Glinda. A few souls are still too much." Elphaba swallows as she forces herself to continue. "I've treated people like pawns." Liir's face briefly appears in her mind. "I hurt more lives than I can count on my hands." She sees Fiyero, she sees her classmates at Shiz, she sees those children she nearly killed.
She sees Glinda.
"So please, just answer the question I asked you, so I know whether to leave or stay. Would you let me be yours again, Glinda? I can't undo all of those things. I am not the Elphaba you knew." Elphaba's voice breaks at the last word.
Glinda remains silent.
The silence scares Elphaba more than she can admit.
Glinda walks over to the Grimmerie, where Elphaba's old hat is placed.
Elphaba has not seen that in years.
The hat had been special to her, even if it was originally given as a prank. There was a reason she brought it with her the day they went to Emerald City when they were young. There was a reason she still kept it even when she was doing all those horrendous acts.
Her cloak is hanging off her shoulders, the same one Glinda had given her that day she flew on her broomstick. She treasures this dearly, she never lets it away from her hands.
And now, she sees the hat again.
"I see." Glinda says as she picks up the hat. She turns back to Elphaba. "Nice cloak."
Elphaba says nothing, wraps the cloak more snugly around her.
Glinda tosses the hat onto the ground by Elphaba's feet.
Confusion fills Elphaba, she looks at Glinda, who has an oddly calm expression. "Huh?"
"If you are telling the truth," Glinda steps back. "Do me a favor." She gestures to the hat on the floor. "You can still do magic, I know that. Let my mind rest. Burn the hat. And once you're done, do the same to the cloak."
Elphaba staggers back as if she has been slapped, one hand clutches the cloak on her shoulders. "How could you say this..?"
Glinda, eerily, stays silent.
"Both of these are from you. There was a reason I held onto them so dearly, Glinda. Even if the hat had been a joke in the beginning, even if the cloak had been on our first goodbye, I held onto them." Elphaba scoffed. "These may seem like a brand or whatever to everyone else, but to us both of these basically the symbol of our bond!"
Panic rose to Elphaba's chest when Glinda remains still. "The hat was there when we first danced at the Ozdust, how we dreamt of a future together in Emerald City, even if didn't happen the way we hoped! The cloak, Oz, Glinda, this may seem small, but it was so much more than just a parting gift! Do you realize what you have asked me?!" She steps forward, her voice rising even more. "I cannot burn these! These are basically symbols of us!"
Elphaba exhaled sharply as she finished speaking.
Then, Glinda steps forward and matches her tone. "Only Elphaba knew that, then I guess that makes her you!"
Elphaba stills. "Glinda..."
"Elphaba, when I thought you died, I didn't mourn who I thought you were. I mourned you. Do you understand that?" Glinda walks closer until the only thing standing between them is the hat. " You. Answer me this, now that I became what you used to fight, do you no longer want me in your life?"
"You know I didn't leave you because I no longer want you." Said Elphaba, her voice lowering drastically that it could almost be a whisper.
"I know. You stupid witch, I know." Said Glinda. "How about now?"
"I didn't allow myself to return to Oz to reject you. I don't care about that, I just want to be with you again!"
"Exactly my point!" Glinda's voice rises again. "You think I don't want the same!? It's been years! We've both changed, Elphaba! We were bound to change!" She grabs Elphaba's collar. "There is no world I can imagine where I will not want you, you idiot. No matter the tragedies, I will accept you, I will still adore you. I don't care how, where, or when! No matter how long it's been! Asking me if to let you be mine again implies that you stopped being mine and I stopped being yours!"
Elphaba sees tears form in Glinda's eyes. Elphaba has not cried in years, it is hard for her to cry in general. But if she can, she probably would be crying too.
"Don't you dare tell me you're not the same person." Glinda's grip on her collar loosens a little, but she still holds on tight. "You are still the girl I shared a room with, danced with. You are always my Elphie."
The nickname makes Elphaba let out a shaky gasp. How long has it been?
Glinda's tears fall. "And I'm still yours, right?"
That isn't even in question. "Of course."
"See, now we've both asked ridiculously stupid questions."
"You have done so twice."
"Oh hush." Glinda chuckles breathlessly, making Elphaba chuckle too.
"I have been haunted by you." Elphaba says softly. "In dreams."
"You do the same to me." Glinda whispers. "I don't know why I've been waiting, but I have."
"Glinda..."
For the first time in years, Elphaba feels the familiar, yet strangely new sensation of warmth in her eyes. Tears.
"I've been waiting for you." Glinda lets go of Elphaba's collar to wipe her own tears. Her teeth halfway gritted, she says, "Even if everything else told me not to. I still..."
"Glinda..." She says her name again.
As Elphaba's tears fall as well, she steps aside in order to not step on or kick the hat, and wraps her arms around Glinda. Oz, it's so familiar yet so new. She buries her face in her shoulder, as Glinda's arms encircle her as well.
Both of them are holding on so tightly, as if afraid the other will go. And honestly, that is true, as both were afraid of how much they changed. Except it seems, as Elphaba realized, Glinda had been more at peace with the change she's been through, unlike her.
She can't erase what she's done, and she will forever be haunted by it.
But...
She's still Elphaba.
And she's still Glinda's, no matter what happened, and no matter what happens.
Though her hands are stained with red, though there is destruction that follows her feet, these are the same hands that held Glinda's, the same feet that danced with her in the Ozdust.
For the first time in years, Elphaba feels peace.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope whoever read this liked it :)
Maybe I'll post this in ao3 if people here like it.
#wicked book#wicked movie#wicked musical#elphaba thropp#galinda upland#elphaba the wicked witch#glinda the good witch#elphaba x glinda#glinda x elphaba#gelphie
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They're Joined
This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by Anon, thank you for this I love writing dramatic, angst pieces. I hope you like it.
Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe
911 Masterlist
Summary: After a day trip, the Diaz family are on their way home when they get caught up in a crash. The 118 work to get them out when their lives are in danger.
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A soft smile lit up (Y/n)'s face as she slowly turned in her seat to look behind her in the back of the car. Her gaze fell on her son and she smiled brighter as she watched him for a few moments.
He was in his carseat, biting down on his thumb and rocking his head and chest back and forth, lightly bashing into the seat. He had a big smile morphed around his thumb and his legs were swinging back and forth, catching his shoes on her seat but she didn't mind. He was ecstatic.
It had been a long time since Chris had visited a zoo and the hour and a half drive had been more than worth it to see his face light up. He had zoomed around on his crutches, never tiring even though he had been walking about for hours. Every so often Eddie had picked him up and sat him on his shoulders to give him a break or let him get a better view of the animals.
His favourite had been the penguins, which was why he had a stuffed penguin toy tucked under his arm, pinned against his chest. (Y/n) had worried they wouldn't be able to get him to leave the zoo but he had been hungry and the promise of a takeaway for tea was enough to get him back in the car.
He had been stimming for the last hour.
Every now and then a squeal would break through over the noise of the radio or Chris would push back in his seat and rock so much the carseat started to creak and bash. But his parents were used to it and his happy stimming like this always made them smile.
(Y/n) slowly turned back round and shuffled down in her seat, relieved they were only twenty minutes away from home now. It had been a long day and she wanted to get out of the car and get something to eat.
Just when she reached her hand over to hold Eddie's thigh, her eyes widened and her lips parted silently. She caught Eddie's eye, noticing his raised brows and he tilted his head to look in the rear view mirror. Chris was doing echolalia.
"Then we were running and I ran-"
(Y/n) couldn't make out the rest of what Chris was saying, each word was said faster and faster until he was messing up his pronouncing and mashing the words together. His voice got higher as he continued to repeat a few random, unrelated phrases he had heard until he stopped himself and screamed excitedly.
It wasn't very often that Chris would do his echolalia during the day, it mostly happened at night when he was trying to fall asleep. It was a condition where Chris would repeat words and phrases he had heard, some of them recent and some of them could have been from months ago. He didn't understand what he was saying, it was just his brain processing and repeating and it usually happened at night when he was excited and winding down to sleep.
They had heard him say a lot of random things over the years and it was surprising how Chris could talk in full sentences when he was doing his echolalia. But then when he was talking properly to them or at school, he didn't always use enough words or use adjectives or connecting words. He was a lot slower at talking when he was engaged in conversation whereas like this, he talked so fast even he couldn't work out what he was saying.
Eddie had started to watch what he said around his son after hearing him one night repeat 'he ran into the fucking fire' followed by a loud giggle. It was surprising what Chris could hear and remember.
"Someone's happy,"
"He won't be sleeping tonight," Eddie reached down for (Y/n)'s hand that was on his thigh and raised the back of her hand to his lips. They knew this would be a possibility when they decided on a day trip out but it was worth it to have Chris so happy and elated like this.
"Yeah but we already knew that."
The next scream that Chris let out, (Y/n) and Eddie joined in too; but for a completely different reason.
***
Something burned in Chimney's stomach and ignited deep in his chest, causing his steps to falter when he got closer to the crash site. He could feel his breaths getting clogged up in his throat and the med bag on his shoulder started to slip when his shoulders sagged down and his feet went from running to a floppy shuffle.
He knew that truck, he had seen it hundreds of times in the car park behind the station.
He moved his hand to grab the med bag that was almost falling to the floor and he picked his feet up. Shuffling awkwardly through the mess of cars that had slammed on their brakes and spun to a stop to avoid the pile up in front of them.
"Oh fuck," Tears were already welling up in his eyes without seeing the damage or commotion that was happening inside the truck.
That was Eddie's truck.
There wasn't a lot of space around the truck, it was banged up pretty good. The passenger side was slammed up into the concrete barrier separating both sides of the motorway and there was another car wedged up at the back of the driver's side. There was only a small angle of room where Chimney would be able to open the driver's door and try to get in and help. They couldn't even pull the truck forward because another car was rammed into the engine that was smoking and making a clicking, whirling noise that didn't sound good.
He dropped the bag to the floor and yanked on the door handle until it swung open and slammed into the empty car next to it. There was just enough space for Chimney to climb up onto the small step and lean inside the truck to see what was going on.
He didn't like what he saw.
Eddie was in the driver's seat, slumped forward onto the steering wheel with his left arm bent around the wheel and his right arm stretched out towards the passenger seat.
Reaching down, Chimney pressed a finger to his neck, relieved to feel a strong pulse and hear his deep breaths.
"Alright Eddie, help's here." He pushed himself higher on the step to try and see over Eddie's back towards the passenger seat. "(Y/n), can you hear me?" A groan from Eddie was the only response he got.
He could barely see (Y/n), she was slumped against the door, her hair fanned across her face hiding her from sight but Chimney could see glass littering her body. The window had broken as had the windscreen. She was slightly hunched over and if the seatbelt wasn't bound around her, Chimney could see she would have fallen down into the footwell.
"Christopher? Hey, you with me?"
Chris wasn't responsive either. He had his glasses slung around his neck, his chin pressed down into his chest with his head slumped forward and his arms crossed loosely over his chest and a teddy slumped between his legs.
Oh dear.
"Attention, I need a lot of backup over the East side of the pile up to the black Ford truck. Guys, it's Eddie. Repeat, Eddie and family are trapped unresponsive in the truck. Bring the saw."
He would need a lot of help getting all three of them out of here and he needed the metal saw or cutters or something like the winch to get enough room to get them all out. If they had spinal injuries, they might have to hoist them through the windscreen.
When another groan left Eddie's lips, Chimney could have cried in happiness, it would be more helpful to have Eddie awake and able to tell them what hurt and see if he had internal damage. But if he was awake and his family wasn't, it was also going to make the situation a lot harder for everyone.
"Eddie, it's Chim. Take it easy, I'm gonna ease you back and check you over, the team's all here to get you out."
He braced his hand on Eddie's chest and held the back of his neck before he slowly helped him sit back up in his seat. It would be easier to assess and talk to him if he was upright instead of slumped over like that.
Eddie started to blink and he twitched his head away when he felt unfamiliar hands on his neck trying to assess whether he had any spinal damage or nerve damage. He didn't. He could feel his legs, he could wiggle his toes in his shoes if he wanted to and every part of his body was on fire but he was waking up and that was good. His vision blurred for a while and he jerked his arm when he felt Chimney pressing on his chest that felt like it was tight and aching.
"Can you move your toes for me Eddie?"
"Yeah," It hurt like Hell, but he tapped his feet up and down against the pedals as he felt Chimney turn the engine off for safety.
"Eddie!"
"W-where the fuck am I?" He shook his head but it only made the unbalanced feeling get worse and turned the world on its axis. He could hear Buck calling out for him over the dull ringing in his ears.
"You're in the car, you've had a collision but we're gonna get you out, just hang tight." Chimney patted his shoulder before he jumped down and leaned over to talk to Bobby. "I can't get to (Y/n), she's unresponsive and Chris doesn't look too bad but he's unconscious in the back. Eddie's waking up,"
"Alright, Hen break the back window and get Chris checked out. Buck switch with Chim to get Eddie out and Chim, you and me will get on the engine and check (Y/n) through the windscreen. Go."
The truck was rammed in at all angles, the only way to get in the back would be to break the boot window and climb over to get Chris checked over. If he had no spinal or nerve injuries it would be a lot easier to get him out they could break the back window and ease him through that way. Eddie could get through the small opening in his door and wait near an ambulance if they could get him that far.
And for (Y/n), they were going to have to climb onto the truck and go through the already broken windscreen.
As soon as Eddie's horrendous roar emmited through their ears, Chimney moved and Buck hopped between the cars to get to the door and see what was going on.
"Eddie, hey it's Buck it's me! Let's get you out of here and I can help (Y/n), come on-"
"No!"
"Eddie I have to-"
"I can't- I c- Fuck!" Tears spilled down Eddie's face and he slammed his head back into the headrest and pummeled his left fist into the dashboard beside the steering wheel. He let his aching head flop to the right to look at his wife but when he heard the engine groaning from the team climbing up, his eyes shot up to look at Bobby. "Don't touch her!" His elbow flew into Buck to get him off before he reached up and held his arm out towards them.
"We need to check her over-"
"We're stuck!"
"Cap, they um⊠they're joined." Chimney crouched on his hands and knees as he leaned his head through the windscreen, being careful of the broken glass but he could see why Eddie was suddenly panicking.
In the struggle, Eddie had reached his arm out to try and help pin (Y/n) back in her seat so she didn't get whiplash or fly onto the dashboard. When metal chunks went flying through the windscreen, a long, thin shard of metal punctured through the middle of Eddie's hand and went into (Y/n)'s lower chest. They were pierced together, the team couldn't move Eddie without moving (Y/n) at the same time.
They were pinned.
"I'm gonna take a look I won't move either of you, okay?"
Chimney leaned his chest onto the dashboard and laid down so he could reach them easier.
The first thing he had to do was check (Y/n)'s pulse and her breathing. She had a pulse, her heartbeat was fluctuating and uneven but it was there and that was all he needed right now. He could see her chest rising and falling beneath Eddie's hand that was splayed out on her chest. Chimney kept his hands steady and firm and stretched his arms out towards them.
His hands patted over (Y/n)'s neck, shoulders and then down towards her legs before he moved back up to her chest.
"She's got a few broken ribs," He couldn't hide the grimace from his face when he pressed around (Y/n)'s hips and her torso. "I think her pelvis is broken. The metal is below her heart which is good, it might have pierced her stomach though. We have to move quick."
He couldn't add pressure to the wound and he couldn't cut off her blood supply because of where the wound was. (Y/n) needed circulation to the rest of her body, there was no way to cut off her blood supply to stem the bleeding like there would be if the metal was in her arm or her leg.
"W-what about Chris?"
"Hen how's Chris doing?" Bobby rested his hands on his knees and peered through to try and see Hen who was now sat in the back of the car next to Chris.
"Fractured arm, possible concussion but some glass had cut open an artery in his leg. I'm gonna have to do a stent and tie off his leg before we get him out."
"Oh God," Eddie tipped his head back and smothered his mouth with his hand to stop himself from screaming. He kept his palm pressed tightly to his mouth, morphing the Spanish prayer his mother used to use in times of crisis because if there were such things as miracles, Eddie sure as Hell needed one right now.
He darted his eyes back over to (Y/n) the moment he felt Chimney touching his impaled hand which flinched and twitched in response.
"It's a clean cut, looks like it's missed the main bones. Eddie, I'm gonna have to pull your hand off of the metal and (Y/n). The metal has to stay in her to stem the bleeding but we can pack and bandage your hand for the ambulance journey."
"Do it."
"I'll get you a shot of-"
"Just rip it off, we don't have time to fuck about. Get my wife out of here,"
He wasn't bothered about a shot of morphine which Eddie knew from experience would do very little to take the edge off. The most it would do was make him feel limp and lethargic and he couldn't afford to be anything other than awake and alert. He had to be with his family and keep watch over them. (Y/n) was the one who would need a shot of pain relief if she started to wake up from this.
Eddie wanted her in the ambulance as quick as they could manage.
"Alright, here we go." Chimney carefully strapped a neck brace around (Y/n) and tilted her head back before he rummaged around in his med bag Bobby handed over to him.
Eddie watched with pained eyes as Chimney cut a strip up the middle of (Y/n)'s top and ripped it away from the metal punctured through them both. A clean view was needed to pull Eddie's hand away and try to keep the metal as still within (Y/n) as possible so she didn't get any internal damage. His left hand curled around the steering wheel and he hissed through his teeth when he felt saline and a solution being squirted all around his hand and over (Y/n)'s chest and stomach.
"Keep your arm still and let me move your hand,"
He didn't need telling twice but he wished he had something to bite down on just in case either (Y/n) or Chris could still hear what was going on. He hated to scream in front of them but the pain was burning and it dragged out because Chimney had to move slow. At least when Eddie had been shot at, it had been quick and countered out by adrenaline.
Carefully and slowly, Chimney pulled Eddie's hand up until it squelched off the metal and was finally free. He handed Eddie's hand over to Bobby who washed it down in more solution before packing gauze to either side and wrapping a bandage tightly round to keep the pressure.
"Eddie we need you out so we can get a back board in there and move her."
"No, no I'll get her out with you," He flung his belt off to the side and shifted round in his seat, muffling a groan when he felt his knee twist and spasm. It was either dislocated or broken and Eddie hoped for the first.
He could do this. He was awake, alert and no longer punctured into his wife, he could get her out of here and he could help Hen get Christopher out if she needed assistance with that. He wasn't standing by like some idiot who didn't know what he was doing. He was part of this team and this was his job, they did this every day, it wasn't that much different. Eddie was just sitting on the other side of the line this time.
A silent look passed between Bobby and Buck and with a nod of his head, Bobby gave the order.
Eddie couldn't help with this. He was hurt, in pain and he was concussed, not to mention this was his family and he wasn't on shift. They wouldn't be liable if (Y/n) got injured during the process of getting her out and it was found out that Eddie helped get her out.
He was too close.
"Wh- no! Get off me! Let me GO!"
Scream after scream flew past Eddie's lips and he flung his arms out to grab the door frame when Buck held him under his arms and started to tug him out of the truck. He had to get out, they had to be quick and get (Y/n) and Chris out of there and Eddie couldn't help.
Buck held his breath, tensed his arms and pulled until his closest friend was out of the truck and his legs flopped beneath him to the floor like a rag doll. He didn't give Eddie the chance to try and scramble back into the car, he shuffled backwards and hoisted him along, kicking, screaming and elbowing him to get back in the truck.
Reaching behind him, Eddie dug his nails sharply into the back of Buck's neck and roared, pulling his head down with a jerk to try and get him to let go but it didn't work. Buck let him go and flopped him down onto unsteady feet before he moved round and stood in front of him like a boulder.
"Traitor!" Eddie slammed his fist down on Buck's shoulder but it didn't make that much of an impact and all Buck did was frown and look like he was about to cry. He was put in an awkward position and all he wanted to do was help but he couldn't let Eddie get involved in this. "T-they're my family, if they⊠I need to be with them,"
When Eddie slumped forward and pressed his forehead into Buck's chest, Buck wrapped his arms around him and held him up.
"I know, I know."
With Eddie out the truck it was easier to get in and get ready to move (Y/n). Bobby got the backboard while Chimney undid her belt and they both eased her up onto the board as slowly as they could so they didn't move the metal too much and rupture something. Once she was strapped on, Chimney pushed the board up through the windshield and climbed out with her.
"Go follow (Y/n) to the ambulance and I'll help get Chris out," Buck gave Eddie a nudge towards his wife before he headed over to the back door that was jammed up against another car. He noticed Hen had managed to roll the window down after she got Chris stabalised. "Pass him through and I'll carry him."
"Easy, do not move or jostle his leg or the stint won't hold,"
Chris was slowly passed between them and Hen held tight hold of his legs and helped shift him round until he was laid over Buck's arms. And just before he turned to run towards the ambulance, Hen leaned over and placed his penguin teddy on his chest.
"He'll be needing this."
***
"How are we doin' in here?" Bobby peered his head around the door and took a tentative step inside but what he saw melted his heart.
He noticed Buck first. He was sat in the plastic chair on the left side of the bed, his legs propped up and crossed on the bed and his body slouched back in the seat. His chin was resting on his hand and he was fast asleep, still in his uniform with his blazer slugged over the back of the chair.
On the floor by Buck's feet, was Chimney, sprawled out asleep with his arms folded over his chest and his head leaning on Buck's leg.
On the other side of the bed, sat Eddie. He was in a dark blue reclining armchair that had the bottom propped up so Eddie could stretch his legs out. His jeans were cut around the middle of his thigh on his left leg and his knee which was dark purple and swollen, was fitted in a brace. It had dislocated during the crash and putting it back in place had almost felt as bad as the cut in his hand.
His right hand had been stitched up and wrapped in a thick clean bandage that went down over his wrist for safety.
He had taken his shirt off in the emergency room so they could check him over and send him for an X-ray which they had also done on his hand and found only one little break in his hand. And now he was sat in just his jeans with a tight bandage wrapped around his lower chest since he had broken two ribs and fractured a third.
Despite the ache that was pulsing through every part of his body, Eddie was still sat in the chair with his son curled up in his arms.
They had put Chris under a mild sedation to fix his leg and bandage it up so he couldn't scratch or pull at his stitches and they had set his arm back in place and put it in a cast from his wrist to his elbow. But when he woke up, no one had been able to stop Eddie from picking him up and walking up and down the room with him like he was a newborn again. He swayed him in his arms, whispered and sang to him to calm him down and as soon as (Y/n) was out of surgery, they went to her room and refused to move.
The metal had successfully been removed and her stomach had been stitched up. Her pelvis was slotted back in place and bound tight just like her chest for her broken ribs and stitches.
She wasn't awake yet, but they weren't expecting her to be after the sedation she had been put under.
When Buck and Chimney found out that she had been moved into a room, they used their uniforms to get past the nurses and hid in her room with Eddie and Chris. And subsequently fell asleep.
"I think we're okay," Eddie waved Bobby inside before he rubbed at his tired eyes and tightened his arms around Chris who was sound asleep on his chest, cuddled up with his penguin. The weight was more comforting than aching and uncomfortable, Eddie would take any amount of pain if it meant his son was comforted and close to his chest.
He couldn't come close to losing either of them again.
"I'm glad to hear it, Hen's on her way down to pop by and see you."
"Cap?"
"Yeah?"
Eddie didn't know what he would have done if the team hadn't reached them so quickly or if they hadn't all have thought on their feet and got him and his family out of there. They didn't let their closeness cloud their judgements, they got everyone safe and got them out and did what was best.
"Thank you,"
#eddie diaz imagine#eddie diaz x reader#eddie x reader#imagines#911 imagine#911 fox#bobby nash#evan buckley
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