#even though i'm still only in act 1 Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[gvardi-l]

bloody inheritance

[eveningcherryblossoms]

It's A Beta Life, Not A Better Life | Part 3

A platonic yandere Batfam x neglected beta reader story

Bad news: You presented as a beta in a world where betas were second-rate citizens.

Good news: Nobody but you knew about it.

Bad news again: You needed to escape because living with a beta-less pack as an unclaimed beta was just tempting fate, but you were still sixteen.

Good news again: The Wayne pack had always ignored you and chances were high that they wouldn't change anytime soon, so as long as you lay low you should be able to hold on until you turn eighteen.

Okay, that balanced everything out. The current situation might be–was awful but you could deal with it.

Now, objectives:

1) Hide the truth that you were a beta.

2) Leave as soon as you became of age.

3) Never, ever let yourself be forcibly bonded as any pack's beta.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror. You appeared... normal. A little messy and exhausted, but otherwise normal. No different than usual.

No one should be able to tell that you had a dozen of the best scent blockers plastered over all your newly developed glands. On either side of the neck, on the inside of both wrists, on the inner thighs, double patches over each part. Everything covered up with a turtleneck sweater, a denim jacket and slacks, all of them–as well as all your clothes and bedding–having been laundered twice with a special scent-removing detergent.

Moving towards the corridor door, you took one last glance and sniff into the nursery where you lived. All clear–nothing incriminating to see and, far more importantly, no newly presented beta scent to smell, thanks to the high-grade scent-removing spray you'd used a bottleful of.

Good. Not even Mr Pennyworth had stepped a foot into the nursery since you were thirteen and he was swamped with duties involving the then recent arrival of Damian, but you refused to take a risk. You walked across the corridor, down the stairs, through the side entry door, and straight into Damian.

Between enough mental curses to make a Crime Alley goon blush, you wondered if even alluding to Damian could summon him before you.

Fortunately you managed to keep an impassive face. You nodded casually to the boy and tried to walk around him.

Tried being a keyword. Little alpha boy Damian crossed his arms and deliberately stood in your way.

"Reader."

"Damian."

It took your all to maintain the nonchalant air as Damian swept an imperious eye over you. Shit, did he remember it was your sixteenth birthday and so you should have presented? Did he know what you presented as?

Your knees almost buckled in relief when Damian proceeded to click his tongue and say, "Sloppy. You are still a pup at your age and act in such a lowly manner? You ought to refrain from further disgracing the Wayne name."

A wry smile very nearly appeared on your face. Damian, when not treating you like air, always criticized you for being 'disgraceful' as though you weren't–by blood, on paper–his older sibling but his wayward child. Grandchild, even.

Reminiscent of how alphas and omegas tended to treat their pack betas.

The realization chilled you. You forced yourself to shrug, self-deprecatingly so not to anger the kid, and point your thumb at the side gates. "Well, if you'd let me pass so I could reach school in time and thus not disgrace myself...?"

Damian clicked his tongue once more, but did shift ever so slightly for you. You dashed past him, freedom almost within reach, only to notice Damian's nostrils flaring and his hand snatching your arm.

"What scent is that?" He demanded.

CALM DOWN, you screamed at yourself. You pretended to be confused before 'realizing' what Damian meant. "Oh, you mean my perfume? I'm surprised you noticed it."

"My olfactory sense is superior to the presented, moreover to a pup as yours." Damian scoffed. "What brand is that and where did you procure it?"

You shrugged again, this time apologetically. "It was one of those blind box stalls in Chinatown. The bottle didn't have any mark or label. Do you really like that scent?"

"I am above such juvenile impulses," Damian scoffed, then entered the manor without another word to you. You observed his figure through the windows until it vanished at the turn that would lead him to the main building, then ran out into the street.

Damian – Clear.

You went to school by bus, as you'd been doing since you were ten. You sat at the very back next to the door and clutched your backpack to your front, making a mental note to research military-grade scent removers.

That near-escape with Damian was alarming; you hadn't anticipated him or anyone having 'superior' olfactory sense. You doubted Damian was a prime alpha–that kid would've announced it without hesitation otherwise–but if even he could smell you after all those scent removers, wouldn't Bruce realize your secondary gender the second he saw you?

You were still thinking about how to research military-grade scent removers without arousing suspicion–would it arouse suspicion? If you bought them, would it put you on some kind of list of suspicious individuals, under scrutiny, at even higher risk of being found out...?–when someone took a seat next to you. You glanced and almost had a heart attack spotting Tim.

Tim also startled upon seeing you. He blinked, opened his mouth, looked at the bus route, then looked back to you. "You didn't go in the car with Alfred?" He asked before adding, "Hi. Uh. Long time no see, huh Reader?"

True enough. The last time you interacted with each other was maybe two years ago when he rambled half-incoherently to you before falling asleep at the dining table.

"Hi, Tim," you replied with the most even tone you could muster. "I've been going to school by myself for years actually."

"O, oh?" Discomfort flickered in Tim's eyes. "So... Uh. How's school?"

"Good, thanks. How's work?"

"Good, good, it's... good."

You wanted to jump off the bus. You wanted to throw Tim out of the bus. You wanted him to stop trying to find topics of conservation and especially to not ask–

"Say, have you presented? As what?"

–that. You really wanted him to not ask that.

You deliberately sighed in disappointment and gestured at your turtleneck sweater, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Tim even though your heart was beating fast as a hummingbird's the whole time.

Tim flushed. "Oh yeah, it was–obvious huh? My bad."

"Don't mention it." The bus finally reached your stop. You practically dove down the steps with a muttered "Bye" Tim's way.

Daring to look back, you were relieved to see Tim was already shutting his eyes, probably for a nap. You walked the rest of the way to school with a lighter heart.

Tim – Clear.

You didn't go to Gotham Academy.

Oh, you did initially, but starting high school, you'd been a student of Park Row High, deep in Crime Alley.

Sometimes you wondered if anybody at the manor knew about it. You didn't wonder if they'd care–they wouldn't beyond the possibility of you, to quote Damian, 'disgracing the Wayne name'–but you were half-certain they had no idea. It could've been funny seeing as Mr Pennyworth was, according to Bruce and his chosen kids, basically omniscient.

It wasn't funny seeing as Mr Pennyworth didn't think you worthy of attention to begin with.

Your day at school went by peacefully, and you blessed every single second of it. Due to Crime Alley having plenty of... colorful personalities, it was mandatory for Park Row High students and staff alike to wear scent blockers and not flaunt their secondary genders. No one looked at you weirdly, the administration staff and the nurse didn't approach you about updating your file or getting a medical checkup. It was a breath of fresh air after so much stress.

So, naturally, things turned bad the moment you got out of school. Jason was at the gate, sitting on his parked bike.

You could strangle someone. Meeting any of the Waynes was a once in a blue moon event. Sure you knew Jason was from Crime Alley, that upon his miraculous resurrection he'd been living here again, but why here at your school, today of all days?

It didn't seem like he'd seen you. You blended in with some other kids streaming out of the gate, hoping to pass by unnoticed. Almost there, just one turn to the bus stop–

"Reader!"

You already knew you had an awful luck to be a beta, but guess it was worse than anticipated.

"Jason? Why are you calling me?"

Jason didn't answer you, but asked you back with a fierce glare, "What the fuck are you doing here? Did the old man send you to spy on me?"

He spat out the accusation. You couldn't help yourself reflecting how, once upon a time, you yearned so badly to have Bruce spare you the attention Jason now treated as garbage. That thought slid off like water off a duck's back as you remembered that now you also considered attention from Bruce and his pack as garbage.

Smiling wryly, you told Jason, "I sincerely doubt Bruce even knows I attend school here."

For a while Jason looked askance, then became doubtful, then what might be angry or upset or something you couldn't decipher, at last settling into impassivity as he jerked his head to the back seat of his bike.

"Get on," he ordered.

You stared blankly at him. A perfectly normal reaction to a perfectly abnormal act. Since when did Jason ever give you a ride?

Jason didn't seem to share your opinion. He let out a curt, bark-like noise that alphas made to wayward pups.

Their wayward pups.

Later on you would berate yourself for this. As of now, however, being treated as a pack member by Jason made your hackles rise. Without a second thought, you snarled and took a step–backward, not forward, because thankfully you still had a sense of self-preservation even when your basic common sense abandoned you.

Nevertheless it was so obviously a disobedient move, and dread filled you as you noticed how Jason's hand–draped over the front of his bike–curled lazily as though intending to scruff you.

An eternity passed during the couple of seconds Jason seemed to debate whether to actually scruff you here in public or not. You felt yourself having aged when he eventually decided to feel amused and warn you instead,

"Fine then, alpha pup. Just remember that your daddy isn't the ruler here, I am. Capiche?"

He didn't wait for your response, just revved his engine and left trailing exhaust smoke that made you cover your nose.

You would've been more irritated had you not been relieved he didn't linger on.

Jason – Clear.

Once an accident, twice a coincidence, thrice a pattern. Having encountered three of Bruce's children today, you were grimly unsurprised to see Dick right after entering the manor.

Dick on the other hand was surprised to see you.

"Reader?" He began, sounding... disbelieving? "You still live here?"

You levelled him a look. "I haven't moved out of the manor, yes."

"No, wait, that's not what I mean!" Dick hastily waves his hands. "I mean–you still live here, in the nursery wing?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," you said.

"I know, I know," Dick nodded soothingly before giving you a smile–the fake beaming smile he gave you whenever you interacted. "So, haven't presented yet, huh? I've been wondering about that!"

Sure he did. You believed him completely.

"Need to store some things in what should've been an abandoned wing?" You questioned, meaningfully glancing at the heap of boxes at Dick's feet.

He coughed, cheeks flushed. "I'll find another place to put them in."

You shrugged. "Just use the downstairs rooms, nobody uses those."

Dick perked up. "Thanks, pup!"

He went to put an arm around your shoulders, but you dodged. A frown marred his face before it smoothed back into the fake beaming smile.

"Say, Reader, if you present as an omega feel free to hit me up! I'd be happy to show you the ropes!"

You gave him an equally fake smile back. "Sure, thank you, Dick."

Sometimes you couldn't help but wonder why Dick kept making these empty promises. It was practically pathological lying at this point.

Dick – Clear.

The nursery wing really occupied an entire wing of Wayne Manor, next to the omega's side of the main building, opposite the elderly wing next to the alpha's side. It was huge, unnecessarily so for such a small pack without any mated members moreover pups of their own. Once upon a time, however, all those rooms were apparently really necessary:

The ward for home birth. The bedroom saved for the midwife or other medical staff. Another of said bedroom for medical staff dealing with pups suffering contagious disease. The isolation ward for said pups. The bedroom with enough cribs and changing tables to open a shop with. The nanny's bedroom. The dorm-style bedroom for pups aged 1 to 7. The series of individual rooms for older pups. The private tutor or governess' bedroom. The schoolroom. The playroom. The nursery dining room. The nursery kitchen and laundry. The dorm-style bedroom for the other domestic staff–housemaid, footman, cook and chauffeur detailed to attend to the nursery only. The spare bedrooms for visiting pack's pups and their attendants. The six bathrooms.

Having lived here for a year short of a decade, you feared you had developed agoraphobia. So much space with only you occupying it. Many times you thought you would've loved for there to be ghosts haunting this wing.

You had one of the bedrooms for older pups and the bathroom next to it. Over the years you had bought a small washer-and-dryer combo to put in the bathroom, a mini fridge, a microwave and an induction stove for a makeshift kitchenette in the bedroom. It was like your own little house, except you figured a real house would not make you fear that you'd be kicked out of it when the owner remembered your existence.

Or, now, that you'd be forbidden from leaving it if the owner knew what you were.

You showered with a scent-removing body wash and made sure to apply triple scent-blocking patches instead of just double like you did in the morning. You cooked your dinner, ate, brushed your teeth and washed the dishes. You were just sitting down to look up 'military-grade scent-removing spray' on your laptop when something unexpected happened:

Someone knocked on your door.

For a moment, you froze in place. Then a voice followed the knock and you hadn't known it was possible to feel more beyond freezing like that.

"Reader? May I enter?"

The voice belonged to Bruce.

Of fucking course. Nine years and you doubted you had conversed with him nine times–half of them happening before Jason's death when Mr Pennyworth still pushed you, gently yet firmly, into playing house with the pack and pretended not to notice them pushing you aside every time. And now of all times he actually came to you?

You didn't tell Bruce to come in. You closed your laptop, looked hard around your room and self for anything that would even whisper I recently presented as a beta and am still unclaimed, and it was only after double-checking there were no such hints that you opened the door.

Looking Bruce in the eye, you absently noted that he was shorter than you remembered. More like a real human being than a colored shadow lengthened by specific light arrangement.

But still a prime alpha. Still the most dangerous to you.

As subtly as possible, you shifted so that most of you was hidden by the door. "Can I help you?"

Bruce's expression was unreadable. The smile he put on afterwards was as fake as Dick's.

"Hey, chum. Dick mentioned to me you were still living here, so–"

He paused. You didn't prompt him to continue.

"So... Ah. Would you prefer staying here?"

"...I don't mind it."

"Well," Bruce visibly hesitated. "If you'd rather move to the main building–well, make sure to tell Alfred first, okay, chum? It's up to you, just–ah, I'm afraid you would have to take a room on the next floor. The ones not used by me and your brothers on the main floor were rather damaged by lack of use, I'm sorry to say."

That was a lie.

Not that you actually knew it; by your first year here you'd been discouraged from exploring. But Bruce's statement made no sense, all of those remaining rooms damaged? But the next floor ones weren't despite being equally unused?

Had it been before, hope might've soared within you. Maybe Bruce and his children shared a secret. A huge secret that you weren't privy to, that was the sole reason you were excluded by everyone all the time.

Your mind was clear now. Whether they really shared this huge secret that existed or not, it did not absolve them from their neglect. No family secret ought to justify you having to take a cab alone to the hospital for an appendectomy and pay the staff extra because you couldn't reach anyone to sign your medical forms.

Unclenching the fists you didn't remember clenching to begin with, you replied, "I prefer staying here, thank you."

Once, it would've hurt to see the palpable relief in Bruce's face.

"That's–good, that you stay here. I mean, that you prefer to stay here and get to stay here." He let out a forced laugh. "A growing alpha has to get to choose their own space, after all! I won't bother you anymore then, Reader. See you at dinner."

You didn't tell him you'd eaten. That you hadn't joined the pack for dinner since Damian came to live here. That you weren't an alpha or an omega or unpresented, because you weren't stupid.

Bruce – Clear.

Having encountered every member of the pack but Mr Pennyworth today, you refused to tempt fate. Bruce's prime alpha might've been unable to detect your beta scent under triple blockers and scent-removing body wash, but it very well could've meant that Mr Pennyworth's supposed omniscience would work on you.

You wrote Already ate. Busy studying. Please do not disturb on a post-it note, stuck it outside the door, and locked the room shut, shoving a chair under the door handle for good measure.

You didn't know it, busy as you were researching late into the night, but Mr Pennyworth did come to your door in order to fetch you for dinner. He frowned reading the post-it note, but wordlessly heeded it and turned back to the main building.

Mr Pennyworth – Clear.

A/N: I'm finally done ahhh!!! I won't say sorry for the late update bc knowing me it should've taken like weeks for me to update each new chapter but in my defense this time I really did mean to finish writing yesterday :/ Unfortunately my bestie abducted me to keep her company getting her phone repaired in the neighboring city and we finished so late I stayed overnight and was too exhausted to write anything until today 😔 I'd reminisce on the days I was young and not so easily downed but tbh those days seemed like a dream.

Edit: Made the story under read more, hopefully I didn't mess it up

Taglist: @randomlyappearingartist @bellethesleepypotato @nirvanaxx1942 @tenswife @galaxypurplerose @shycreatorreview @cupid73 @time-shardz @mikusamsan @simpingpandas @kore-of-the-underworld @elmichi0 @mirabilis-polaris @farsketch @altumsomnum @hai-there-how-are-you @vanessa-boo @ashjade19 @yandere-enthusiast @a-lurking-fae @hyperfixatedcatlover @leeiasure @luckynemi @lowkeyjarrr @lunoorbonoor @deathbynarcisstick

Please tell me if I missed anyone else! I just copy-pasted the first taglist and added the new ones but hopefully it's still working 🙏

[blueskittlesart]

top 5 deltarune scenes?

INCREDIBLY difficult to answer. I will say no scene in deltarune has made me cry yet which cannot be said of undertale but certain moments have gotten REALLY close

#1 has to be the weird route couch scene which yes might be an insane choice but im basically rating these in terms of emotional impact and JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. this scene made me feel physically nauseous and I accidentally aborted it multiple times because I was so freaked out I kept waiting too long to retake control of kris. obviously there's been some. uh. insane takes about the rose (which. because i play on console i got the original scene, it's still not patched out) but I honestly think that all 3 versions of the scene are equally disturbing and incredibly well-done. what REALLY did it for me though is the scene directly afterwards where kris kicks the soul around in the bathroom trash can. it's the most emotional and the most violent we've EVER seen them, to the point of being disturbing--your actions as the player have actually broken this kid. They're engaging in senseless acts of violence even though they know it won't really do anything to change their situation. they just want to hurt you like you hurt her. Once you regain control of them after that scene they keep fighting you for control as long as you're in the bathroom, too. granted I am the one who decided to do all that to them (iam so fucking sorry kris) but jesus fucking christ toby

close second has to be the susie/ralsei stained glass window confrontation. susie's sprites had so much movement and emotion behind them it was INSANE and the dramatic irony of you the player watching this through kris while knowing there's so much more she still doesn't know is CRAZY.

third would be the "i'm smiling" ralsei moment for what i feel are obvious reasons. susie punching through the prophecy, physically wounding herself, and then leaving her own blood on ralsei's face as she comforts him. surely this is not foreshadowing anything

#4 is the power of friendship moment as you rush the knight at the end of chapter 4. kris taking so many hits that their friends step in and take over. The 2 who aren't taking hits helping the center back to their feet after they get knocked down. man

5 is the only one that isn't quite a "scene" per se but in noelle's house once kris rips out the soul if you follow them into the kitchen, once they finish their phone call and chocolate milk they'll walk offscreen, and you can listen to them play a bunch of different songs on the piano for about 5 minutes straight. and the playing is just like. so HUMAN for lack of better term. they speed up and slow down and you can sort of hear them figuring out notes and remembering things as they go and they make a few mistakes here and there. and it just. keeps going. for SO long. this is the first and arguably only time we see them have this much control over their actions for this long and they choose to sit at the piano and play for as long as possible. god. maybe this one should be higher actually jesus fucking christ

[fishnapple]

How they comfort you, their love languages

(Future spouse/partner/lover)

This is a mini reading about the things that your partner/spouse would do or say to comfort you.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

CUBE 1

"Our life together is the most important thing"

"You're alive, I'm alive and that's good"

Tickle

Clumsy jokes that make your belly hurt

"Let's go to the beach"

"Whatever you do, I'm right beside you"

"Don't worry"

"Don't be afraid to fall, I will catch you"

"I'm your biggest fan"

Silent understanding

Scary movies that make you jump into their arms

Passionate, emotional sex

The warmth of their body

Holding you in the dark

Holding your hands whenever you go out together

Warm breads and fresh flowers

Board games

Forehead kiss

"Let's run away"

"I will find you again even when you've become a star on the heavenly sky"

CUBE 2

Surprise gifts, this person could spoil you a lot with material gifts

"I will get it for you"

They would do many things to make your life easier without you knowing: take care of your routines, pack your lunch, iron your clothes, etc

Change the colour of the curtains and bed sheets to cheer you up,

Date nights

Take you to see the sunset, to somewhere dark and windy, surrounded by nature

"No problem "

"Let's me take care of it"

They comfort you in your dreams

Intuitively guess your thoughts

Whisper loving words when you are in public places

Be with you through every social events

"My greatest achievement is to be their partner"

Boast about you everywhere they go

"I command you to love me", then proceed to massage your feet

Holding you silently while you spill out your darkest secrets

Direct in displaying their desire for you

CUBE 3

Act all tough and intimidating with other people but become a mushy romantic when they're with you, especially in private

Never fail to notice and compliment your effort at taking care and beautifying yourself

Getting heart eyes both when seeing you in leisurewear and in glamorous clothes

Try to sing for you even if they hate singing or not good at it

Love poems

When they find it hard to express their feelings through words, they express through material gifts and sensory pleasures instead

Just buying you stuffs and pretend to not know about it or act oblivious and nonchalant

Wrap you in softest blanket

"Let's go into the bathtub together"

Drying your hair

Take lots of pictures, of you alone, of you guys together, of your memories

"You're my best friend, let's me be your best friend"

"I love you "

CUBE 4

"I've loved you before and I will love you again"

"See you in our next life together "

Appear right when you need them

Act more confident and tough

The heat of their body

Pull you into them

"Lean on me"

Witty jokes

Irrelevant stories to distract you from whatever negative feelings you're having

Hand holding

Lots of notes

Phone calls throughout the day

Try to talk in the softest voice when they're with you

"Let's play video game"

"Let's me draw your silly face"

"Let's take a day off and go to where nobody knows us"

The meadows, the sea, the mountains

Take your pleasure as their top priority

Love making

"I'm afraid that this is all a dream, but as I go to sleep and wake up everyday, you're still there"

"Your pain is my pain "

Warn anyone dares to come in between you two

CUBE 5

"Nothing can stand between us"

"We can go anywhere we want"

"I believe in us"

"Hey, teach me how to do this"

Make plan for both of you

"Let's me read Tarot for you"

Always on time

Keep their promises, from smallest one to biggest one

Cakes and sweets

Warmth food

Hype you up

Eager to hear you talk

Patience

Try to be silly just to cheer you up even though they seem to be a pretty serious person

Laughter

Refer to you as "my love" when talking with other people

PDA

"I think I'd done good deeds in my past lives, that's why I met you"

Looking deep into your eyes

"I believe this relationship has changed us for the better"

Ride of die

"Till death do us apart "

CUBE 6

"You were alone, but now you have me"

Act childish and cute to get your attention

Also love it when you do the same to them

"Let's get married "/ "Let's get married every year"

Tell you about their childhood nightmares and how embarrassing they were

"I was told to wait for you when I was a kid"

Has no shame in acting embarrassing or silly just to make you laugh, even in public

"Do you want to date me" (even when you guys have been married for a long time)

Handmade gifts

Corny pickup lines

Genius at solving problems

Try to get you to debate about odd topics

Looking intimidating and professional in public but don't care about people's opinions, especially about you and your relationship

Will defend you in any conflicts

Take your side unconditionally

Willing to share everything with you

Honesty

Think of a new way to affirm their love everyday

"We make a great team"

[mywritersmind]

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - LN4

↳ pt.1

summary : Its the vacation of your dreams! With your best friends, rich men, live music, and flowing drinks, nothing can ruin it. Even if a certain Formula 1 driver (who seems to have an affinity for annoying you) is there every step of the sandy way.

listen up : suggestive themes! swearing! ‘enemies’ to lovers. probably my last sunny vacation fic for a while! get ready for winter fics!! cmt to be tagged in pt. 2 <3

word count : 4570

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Y/n!” Kika throws a pillow onto me. I groan in response, pulling the blanket over my head, “Get up! Get up! We’re leaving in thirty!”

I fall off the bed and start my rushed process of getting ready, we’re in Marmaris, Turkey for a little holiday. A holiday that I've been promised is for friends, yet every friend I have is with a man.

Kika, Alex, Rebecca, and Lily promised they would act like single ladies with me! That’s clearly not true because of the love they have for their boyfriends and how those same men never leave their sides.

The only other addition is someone I don’t want to talk about. Someone who’s a pain in my ass and the construction to my headache.

I’m instantly in a better mood when my friends and I start taking photos and making tik toks. I’m in a light blue dress and sandals, my skin is practically yearning to be tan but that will start tomorrow.

I have my own hotel room which I intend to spend no time in unless I'm hooking up with a hot turkish man. Lily holds my hand as we start walking. The guys said they would meet us there and I’ll never not treasure time with my girls.

The sun has already set but the sky is still a dark blue and orange. Lily squeals next to me, she’s in the cutest white mini dress, “I can’t believe we’re here!”

Kika laughs in a long yellow dress, “The trip literally made it out of the group chat!”

I eye them, “More like it was infiltrated by another groups chat!” Alex laughs and puts her hand on my arm.

“I promise it’ll be fun. I know you’re a little sad but we’ll find you someone!”

“It’s not even that- I just want to be with you guys.” They all seem a bit sad about it. It’s not like I don’t like their boyfriends, I consider them my friends too! It’s just that I was really looking forward to some much needed girl time.

“You are with us!” Alexandra frowns.

Lily swings are hands, “You’re with us and five other idiots who have money!”

This makes me laugh as we make it to the restaurant. It’s beautiful, part of the hotel, and looking right over the water.

The guys are already sitting. Charles, Pierre, Alex, Carlos all smile at me, kissing their girls as we sit. There is one missing, though. It’s hard to ignore but I'm definitely not complaining.

Drinks are ordered and our thoughts about the hotel is passed around. I became friends with this group through Lily, we grew up together and when Alex suggested I should come to a grand prix, I was hooked.

The other girls took to me immediately and were so excited to have another friend that they actually like. I don’t travel as much as them, but I do see them often enough.

We haven’t gotten together in a group like this though in forever!

I sip on my cocktail and talk to Carlos as his eyes stray past me. I turn to look at what he’s distracted by and have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

You know those people who just really piss you off? The type that just irks you even though you’ve tried to hear your friends out?

That is how I feel about Lando Norris.

He strolls up to our table as if he isn’t late. He’s in blue jeans and a white button down that’s definitely not buttoned enough. His hair is messy and looks like he just woke up, “Hey.” Is all he says before plopping down next to Carlos and sipping his water.

Rebecca already sends me a look that screams, ‘Leave it.’ So I do, I order my food and talk to my friends while avoiding the man two seats down from me.

It’s not just that Lando bugs me, It’s that he’s repeatedly cocky and flat out annoying. He teases me any chance he gets and it never fails to ruin my day. He knows it too.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Pierre asks as he puts his arm around Kikas chair, everyone’s food is nearly gone and I'm more than ready to climb into my plushy hotel bed.

Alex holds Lily’s hand, “Beach, explore, eat? That’s also my plan for every day of our trip.”

Charles nods, “My buddy has a boat out here that he said we can borrow one day.”

I smile and lean my head on Kika’s shoulder, “I'll be anywhere you guys go, with a book and an apple.”

“You still into that?” His voice already pisses me off. I look at Lando who’s staring at me, “Reading.”

I blink. “Are you still into being illiterate?”

Charles covers his laugh with a cough as Alexandra shakes her head, “Hey! You two need to keep it civil this trip.”

Carlos eyes Lando pointedly as he groans, “Why? I didn’t even do anything! The witch said I was illiterate!”

I sit up straighter immediately, leaning over Carlos as my friends talk in a haze around me, “You really wanna see a witch, Norris, I’ll fucking show you!”

“The worst thing you could do to me is throw sand in my face!” I groan as he rolls his eyes and Kika pulls me back into my seat.

“This is what we’re talking about!” When she whispers is when I realize the people dining around us are staring.

“It’s one week!” Pierre shakes his head, “One week of peace!”

I don’t dare look at Lando, my arms crossed.

He gives in peace, “I won’t start anything if she won’t.”

“Perfect, I'll have a great trip of silence.” Fine by me. I can ignore him for a week, easy.

Lily and Rebecca exchange looks as Lando speaks again, “It’ll be nice not hearing your-” Carlos slaps his arm and he shuts up.

I sigh in my seat, this is going to be an interesting week.

⋆༺

I start off my first full day with breakfast. I’m up early and decided to make the most of it by enjoying my food with a beach view.

I grin when I see that there’s two pieces of bacon left, grabbing them swiftly and plopping it onto my plate just when someone goes to reach for it.

I look up to see Lando. He’s sweaty and in running clothes, looking at me annoyed per usual, “Seriously? Who takes the last two pieces?”

I raise a brow, “Me. You literally just saw me do it.”

He gives me a bored expression, “Didn’t you ever get taught manners?”

“I got taught how to get what I want.” I bite into the piece of bacon just to watch him flinch. “Weren’t you taught that it’s not nice to be insufferable?”

“Can’t you share? It’s one piece.” I take another bite, pretending to think.

“Hm… No!”

“We’re supposed to be civil. Friends even!” He steps closer, “I know you would give the piece to Lily.”

“You’re too greedy.” I finish the first piece of bacon and start to walk away. He scoffs and follows me.

“Me!? Greedy?” He scoffs, plate still in hand. I eye it, it’s mostly empty except for a nutella crepe, “You know what- never mind.”

I nod, “Great job being civil, Norris. I’m so proud of you and you for giving up.”

He does not find this funny, “I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit.” His eyes narrow at my words.

“Fuck it, Free will!” and with that, he grabs the piece of bacon off my plate and runs!

“Norris!” I yell after him but when he turns, he’s smiling with a mouth full of bacon. “Dickhead.” I mumble to myself and continue getting my food.

⋆༺

I’m warm, I'm tipsy, and I'm listening to live music. I don’t think life could get any better. I sit up on my beachside chair, lifting my sunglasses to see Lily, Alex, Charles, and Alexandra playing chicken in the water.

Kika stirs next to me, she was asleep on her stomach but slowly sits up when she hears our friends laughing.

I watch Lando and Pierre floating and Carlos swimming towards them. Rebecca went to get drinks so that just leaves Kika and I.

“How’s the whole ‘civil’ thing going?” She’s in an orange bikini that makes her look unfairly tan.

I shrug, “Bad? I just can’t imagine talking to him normally. We always fight.” I sip my drink, the glass coats my hand in condensation but it cools me down.

“Maybe you should just fuck.” I choke on my drink. She doesn’t even attempt to hide her laugh, “Sorry, Sorry!”

“Kika!” I slow my breathing, “Why would you say that!?”

“It makes sense! You’ve got a lot of pent up energy… I’m just saying!” I shake my head, pulling my sunglasses back on and laying down again. “I know you’re attracted to him.”

I pray that she thinks my cheeks are red from the sun, and not from her words. “I am not.”

“You can't lie to me!” She laughs, “It’s not a bad thing, Y/n. You both just need to shut up for two seconds and get eachother shirtless.” Lily walks up right as she says that.

She plops down onto the sand, “Whatever this is about- I agree!”

“She’s trying to get me to- Nope! I’m not even going to say it!” I can’t have that manifestation in my life.

“I think she should hook up with Lando.”

“Completely agree. Just make it quick.”

“If he’s with her, he’s gonna be quick.” Kika jokes and I actually laugh at that one.

“Okay enough! I’m not taking any advice from you two!” I stand, pulling my hair tie out of my hair and starting down the beach.

“Think about it!” Lily yells as I flip her off.

Now all I can think about is hooking up with him. I mean, I hate the dude, but I’m not blind.

Lando is fucking fit. But it’s hard for me to see past his assholeness. So the probability that i’m going to fuck him, is slim. Very slim. Like ZERO.

Just as I'm off in my Lando Norris shirtless world, a shirtless Lando Norris walks up to me. He’s exiting the ocean, pushing his wet curls back as he laughs with Carlos.

I look away as soon as I get a glimpse of his torso. The cool water feels great on my legs as I walk in the ocean. I sink down and dunk my head, opening my eyes underwater, I see the tiny fish and shells.

I reach down and grab a handful of sand, when I get air again, Carlos and Lando are next to me. I push the sand off my hand to reveal some shells and a tiny crab, “Aw!” I smile at it, showing it to the boys.

Carlos raises his brows, “Looks harmful.”

“Harmful?” I glance at him, “He’s a baby!” I hold it closer to him and he backs away like it’s going to jump on him.

I turn to Lando and do the same, he backs away as well, “Pussy.” I say it to his face and he clearly takes it as a challenge.

He holds his hand out and snatches the crab right from my hand, “Are you just a thief by nature?”

He gives me a look before bringing his hand closer to his face to examine the sea creature. I step closer to see it, “It’s adorable.”

“It’s a crab.”

“Thank you, Norris, for your insightful words of wisdom.” I go to take it back from him but he jumps and throws his hand down.

I let out a huge laugh when I realized it’s holding onto his thumb, “Shit! Ow!”

I keep laughing as Lando panics, swinging his hand around to try to get it off. Carlos is long gone by now, not amused by his friends' antics.

The crab finally unclips itself from Lando and he looks like he was just betrayed. I grin, “Maybe I am a witch!”

He looks me up and down, holding his hand and thinking. “If you call me a bitch that crab won’t be the worst thing that hurts you today.”

And then something weird happens.

He smiles.

He just smiles and walks away.

⋆༺

LANDO

Marmaris is stunning. The water is clear and besides me getting bitten, I'm having a great time. We end up going into town to get lunch and I'm faced with the issue of Y/n’s ass in my face as we walk up what feels like a million stairs.

I really feel like she’s doing this on purpose but I could be thinking that to just make myself feel better about checking her out.

She’s in tiny low waisted jean shorts. I can see her bikini bottoms peeking out from the sides. Her top is a crocheted cover up so her sliver of a bathing suit is still on display.

Carlos pushes my back when I slow down on the steps, I turn around to swear at him but he’s giving me an all knowing look so I close my mouth.

After what feels like hours of staring at Y/n’s backside, we make it to the lunch place. It’s hidden quite far up and we all get cramped into the room with a huge window and a view of lemon trees.

With our stupidly coupled up group, I'm forced to sit with Y/n. She’s across from me, sipping on her water and leaning on the table with her arms crossed.

When she notices I'm staring at her, she glares at me. I can tell she’s about to say something snappy, but eyes our friends and shuts her mouth.

As much as she pissed me off, I find it fun to annoy her. I like the way her cheeks heat and how her lips press together, but I would never admit that to her.

“Did you go for a run this morning?” Carlos asks me while shoveling food into his mouth.

“Yeah and the gym- it’s nice.”

“And quiet?” I nod, knowing what he means. Five Formula 1 drivers on vacation together is pretty hard to miss. But besides a stare or two, no one has said anything to us.

Lily claps her hands together, “Who wants to go golfing with me on wed-”

Y/n groans, putting her head in her hands, “No!” Kika looks horrified at the suggestion as well.

“Yes!” Carlos and I say at the same time. Lily has been a great addition to our golfing group and by far the best out of the three of us.

Rebecca laughs, “I’m with Y/n on this one. I’m feeling… spa?” This immediately perks Y/n up.

“That sounds perfect!” Alex smiles, “Girls day! Minus Lily because she’s actually good at a sport.”

Charles eyes us all, “I wanna go to the spa. I hate golfing.”

⋆༺

YOU

When Rebecca suggested we take a cooking class, I thought it was a great idea! I’m not the best cook so why not learn something? I had a bad feeling as soon as we entered and the room was decorated with hearts.

“Welcome! Welcome!” A man ushers us in along with two other groups. The room is large with one wall completely open and facing the beach. “Everybody get a table and we shall begin!”

“I knew I missed something on the website…” Alex cringes as we stare at the tables set for two, “Sorry? Lando, careful with Y/n and knives!”

A couples cooking class!? You’ve got to be kidding. I look at Lando the same time he turns to me, “Well, love… Let me handle the sharp things. I value my life.”

This is going to be the longest hour ever.

“My lovely people in love!” The man is short, with gray hair and the biggest smile I've seen in a while, “My name is Ali and today we begin making the dough for Kemal Pasha!” Apparently the kind we’re making is sweet balls of dough with a very delicious sounding syrup.

I’m standing next to Lando who’s struggling with his apron. They have huge heart pockets and his is bright green. As fun as it is to see him struggle, I want to start cooking soon.

“Give me that.” I swat his hands away and step behind him, taking the pieces of fabric and tying a knot.

“Thank you, Sweetness.” I suspect that this teasing won’t end soon, considering the man teaching the class asked everyone what their names were and put a name tag on each table of the couples ‘ship’ name.

I tie it tight and he flinches, “Hey my girl is trying to kill me!” I roll my eyes and loosen the bow, listening to the man and thanking the woman who’s walking around to make sure everything is correct.

I pour in all the ingredients and Lando starts stirring. I look around at all the couples, they’re doing everything together while looking all lovey dovey.

It makes me miss my ex. Which is weird because we barely acted like this alone. But still, seeing Alex and Lily laugh with flour already on their faces makes me sad.

“Angel!” Lando calls for me again as I put my hand on my hip. He has his hand out that’s covered in white powder, “C’mere!”

“No!” I back up but he’s already pulling me in and squeezing my face. I frown, my face squished between his hand as he laughs. I can feel the flour covering my face. I put on a slow smile when he drops his hand, “Aw, love bug!”

Nothing about my tone is loving and I can tell he’s not excited by the way his face drops. “Now darling…” He backs away as I pour some of the flour from the container into my hand, “I told you i’ll let you lick food off of me later, not here!”

I scoff at his audacity and throw the flour right into his face. When he opens his eyes, I slap my hands over my mouth. His whole face is white and when he breathes out, some comes out of his mouth.

I hold back a laugh as he stares at me, along with the rest of the room, “Oh baby… you’ve got a little.” I motion to his whole face, “Just a little something right there.”

“Er…” The man blinks at us, “True love comes in many forms!” He laughs uncomfortably as we get back to mixing our dough.

“That was not a fair move, Love.” Lando whispers to me as I knead the dough between my hands. His face is wiped off but the flour still resides a bit in his hair and cheeks.

“All's fair in love and war.” I say sweetly.

“Alright ladies, If your man isn’t helping you with his big strong muscles…” Ali eyes us, “Remind them who you are! Men, help your women!”

I turn back at Lando, looking up at the driver, “Do you need reminding?”

He just bites his lip and turns me back around, his hands on my waist. That, I did not expect. My hands go back to the dough in the bowl and his arms move into view, copying the other couples and massaging the treat with me.

I swallow and eye the veins in his arms that go all the way to his hands. His very big hands. The same hands that softly reach over mine.

His touch is surprisingly gentle as he matches my movements. I try to not think about how close he is to me, and focus on the dough but fuck that because I can feel him behind me.

I move back a bit unconsciously and his hand goes to waist to stop me, “Do you need reminding?” His voice is deep in my ear and I fight the urge to roll my eyes even though I know my cheeks are hot.

I thank god when Ali says we will be moving onto rolling the dough into little balls.

I swiftly move away from Lando and don’t dare look at Alex or Kika who I know is looking at us. I start rolling the dough in between my hands.

Lando glances at me, his balls sort of uneven and too small, “Your balls are ugly.” Lando chokes on air and whips his head around to look at me.

“Excuse me?” I roll my eyes at his suggestive tone and show him one of mine, “Ah so you’re a ball expert? Working from experience?”

He’s so childish it makes me want to throw one of these at him. Sadly, I'm not above acting suggestively, “Never worked with any so small.” I shrug as he stares at me. That shuts him up really quick as we place them on a round baking sheet.

We take a short break while they bake and I venture outside, looking over the balcony to the sea far below us.

My skin feels rejuvenated by the sun, I’m tanner and I swear the air is just different here. Alex appears next to me, he looks quite happy, “Having fun?”

I shrug and realize that I actually have been. “Uh… yeah.”

“You know, I think everyone else thinks you’re a real couple. It’s cute.” I gape at him. Is Alexander Albon betraying me right now?

“It is not cute. He’s bullying me.” He just snorts.

“Sure…”

I frown when Ali calls us back in. Lando and I are mostly quiet while stirring our syrup. As it boils, he nudges me. I look up to see him watching another couple.

They’re practically making out and feeling eachother up. I let out a laugh that his eyes widened at, “You’re so not inconspicuous.” He whispers, leaning down a bit.

“They are definitely not paying any attention to me…” They’re so wrapped up in each other that they don’t even notice when Ali turns their mini stove top off so their sauce doesn’t burn.

He looks down at me one last time, sending me a tiny smile. I think it’s the first time I'm genuinely attracted to him when his shirt is still on. Shit.

⋆༺

LANDO

Besides Y/n trying to kill me with the dessert we made, we were civil throughout the rest of the class. We get to take home a small box which leaves everyone in a good mood.

“Here, pretty, I don’t think I can eat that without feeling sick.” I don’t mean to call her that, but I just say what comes to my mind. I hand her the box and takes it without any change of expression.

I’m ready to leave but Ali claps his hands together one more time, “My lovebirds!” Y/n gives me a look that I laugh at, “One more gift for a very special couple of… well, couples!”

He pulls out three pieces of paper. Handing one to the couple that was making out he says, “Most affectionate!”

Then he turns to Pierre and Kila and hands them one, “Best dessert!” I realize these papers are some typos of superlatives.

I think he’s going to go to Charles and Alexandra, but he turns to Y/n and I. A big grin on his face, he hands me a paper. I read it before he says it and my eyes widen, “The most authentic love!” I don’t look at her, I can’t.

“I hope one day you all come back!” And with that, we’re ushered back and stripped of our aprons.

Y/n is already walking down the marble steps with Lily and Rebecca next to her. Carlos just shakes his head and slaps his hand on my shoulder, “Man… Congratulations!”

I eye him as Alex laughs, “I’m framing that!”

⋆༺

YOU

Six hours later, i’m in a tiny white dress, my hair curled and makeup done, and on my way with Rebecca and Alex to a club.

Everyone’s already left but Alex took extra long to slick back her hair. “So!” Rebecca grins as we walk past the beach, “Plan for tonight? Hook up with a local? Make out on the beach?”

I laugh at her enthusiasm, “I’ll see where the night and vodka takes me! I really just need a hot dance partner and a good drink.”

And that’s exactly what I get. I get my drink and well.. many hot dance partners! My friends and I scream the lyrics of the songs we know, holding hands and jumping around.

The club is part of the resort we’re staying at. It’s half on the beach and half in the beach bar that has a 24 hour drink service. I laugh at the guys who are awkwardly waiting for their girls to join them again.

“Okay, go, go!” They leave me at the bar and as soon as they’re gone, a man approaches me.

He’s very tall and very blonde, “Hi.” he’s got an accent but I can’t tell from where, “I couldn’t help but notice you dancing…” I listen to the same line that a hundred guys have fed me before. “Could I buy you a drink?”

Now this is what I like! Ten minutes later I'm dancing with him and a vodka lemonade. His hands are on my waist as I laugh.

He’s hot against me, his hair sweaty and salty. His name is Leon and he really likes my dress. I have a feeling he would like me without it too.

“Are you staying at the hotel?” He asks, screaming in my ear.

I nod, “Are you?”

“I’m staying in town with a friend!” I nod and sip my drink as he talks, “Do you know him?” I frown at his words, turning to see who he’s talking about.

I roll my eyes at Lando who’s standing with a pretty girl but staring at me. I turn back to Leon, “No!”

He looks like this annoys him, “Well i’m not surprised! You’re hot!” I nod as the music continues and keep dancing with him.

He turns me around so he’s staring at my ass instead of my face. But I just slip my fingers into my hair and keep dancing. I open my eyes to see Lando again. The girl is still talking but he’s still staring at me.

I run my middle finger around the rim of my glass, the sugar lifting onto my skin. His expression stays dark and focused on me as his hand goes to his jeans pocket. I lift my finger to lips, licking off the sugar without breaking eye contact.

He brings his drink to his lips and that’s when I realize I've had a bit too much to drink because he looks too damn hot.

He’s in a light blue shirt, his silver rings and LN4 necklace sat on his skin like it belongs there. His hair is damp with I don’t know with what… sweat, water, or the air, I don’t care. His jaw ticks at Leon’s hand moves from my waist to my stomach, my head dropping back on his shoulder, and spinning back around.

He kisses me, it’s messy and drunken but I don’t care. It’s only when he whispers, “Let’s get out of here.” When I'm massively turned off.

I end up back with my friends, Lando nowhere in sight and a smile on my face as we sit at the bar and drink.

pt.2

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Jaemin ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Jaemin x f!idol!reader

summary: you and your best friend are very close, so you'll know what it's like to text him, right?

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

a/n: I am not currently accepting any new self-on kode requests

"Wow," you breathe out in wonder as you look around the studio from your pink chair, "I have watched so many of these videos. I love them." You bow softly to the camera, "Oh yes, hello, today I will be known as bunny."

On the other side of the wall, Jaemin settles into his seat, smiling at the camera while introducing himself, "Hello, I am Jaemin fron NCT Dream, but today I will be rabbit."

You bop your head along to your music softly, typing out your first message before your eyes widen slightly with surprise, "there are so many heart emojis! Woah, 1, 2, 3, 4... 11 heart emojis."

"Is this how you text everyone?" Jaemin reads off his phone, he pouts softly before typing back, "Yes, of course. Do you not like to feel happy?"

You laugh incredulously, "of course I like feeling happy. Emojis don't equate to happiness, Rabbit."

You both manage to move on and make small talk while you ignore the gross amount of emojis being used. Your partner seems to be fairly nice and happy-go-lucky, but you're still not quite sure who your partner is.

You and Jaemin had been close friends since you both started training together. He was strangely outgoing and outspoken in a way that was overwhelming at first but you quickly grew to like. He was a comforting person to be around and a great listener. He quickly became one of the few people you grew close to and felt a genuine friendship with.

It took a few years for you to develop a crush. He had been in the awkward puberty stage when you first met and that shaggy hair wasn't doing him too many favors. Then he took a medical break and came back to Seoul looking like a whole new guy. A very handsome new guy. 7 years ago was when you saw him in a new light, no longer just your nerdy best friend. And about 2 years ago that new light had led you to see him romantically.

Who could blame you with the way you two acted? There were countless inside jokes, regular hang out sessions with just the two of you, gifts exchanged, and way too much affection between two people who should only be friends.

When you see the screenshot sent to you, a flash of recognition hits you, could it be Jaemin? No, it couldn't be. Looking at the screen you zoom in, looking at an order for a pink variety floral bouquet. Why is it familiar? Well, because at the beginning of the week you'd gotten a pink variety bouquet from your best friend. Jaemin couldn't be your partner though, right?

You bite your bottom lip while typing out your response, "oooh, flowers for your girlfriend or boyfriend?"

Jaemin's cheeks flush a soft pink, chuckling under his breath, "something like that." He quickly adds, "just someone special."

The staff lets the both of you chat before moving you both along to send screenshots of you YouTube history. You take your screenshot and look up from your phone to look at the staff around the cameras, "I told you I'm a big fan so don't be surprised."

Jaemin laughs to himself while he looks at the picture, "wow, I have a big fan in my midst. Looks like we're twins..."

You cover your mouth as you laugh, looking at your screen which shows an almost identical image. Your partner had been binging the very same series. Another weird coincidence since last night you'd been watching these videos on your TV and live texting Jaemin about them. It was too much of a coincidence, it was getting weird.

Then came the most recent picture, you sent a picture of the shade of lip gloss your makeup artist had used on you and on your phone is a picture of an arm flexed. A very beefy, muscular arm and no face. "Woah," you breathe out. You can't even bring yourself to look at the camera, too embarrassed to show your face after how you just sat and stared at the picture for a straight minute with the screen really close to your face.

"You work out I take it?" You type back, slapping your palm against your forehead with embarrassment. You can see you manager turn away from you with second-hand embarrassment and you want to run behind the set and hide.

Thankfully your partner doesn't dwell on that and soon enough the staff is asking both of you to give your guesses.

Jaemin rubs his chin, "could it be one of my staff members? The makeup, the video history. I'm not sure."

In front of the blue wall, you try not too look at the camera, embarrassed by your behavior, "could it be Jaemin?"

You stand nervously on your side of the set, refusing to move and panicking while waiting for your partner to show themselves. From around the corner you see a familiar head of hair, then a familiar set of eyes, then a whole face with a dazzling smile. "Jaemin!" You breathe out in relief as you rush toward him and embrace him.

"It's you!" Jaemin exclaims while he hugs you.

You pull away from the hug, letting Jaemin fix your hair as you ask, "so, did you know it was me?"

"No, did you know it was me?" He asks in response.

"I had an idea..."

The staff have you both sit at a high top table and you pick up the conversation from there. Jaemin pokes your arm with a teasing smile, "how did you know it was me?"

"Well, you sent me the flowers you had a screenshot of and we watched the videos at the same time last night," you explain.

"You didn't recognize my arm?" He asks with a playful wiggle of his brows.

"You don't flex for me!"

He holds an arm up, flexing his arm as he tugs his sleeve up his bicep, "well, here you go. Get a good look. You should be able to recognize your best friend by any part of his body."

You hide your face in your hands. You don't think he meant to make an innuendo, but that smile on his face has you second guessing. One of the staff members chimes in, changing the subject and asks about the 'someone special.'

Jaemin drops his arm, cocking his head to the side, "she is someone special to me. She's the most special person to me."

"You can't say that!" You whine, shoving his shoulder softly.

He catches your hand, holding it in his own hands with a pouty look, "but you are."

"You're annoying," you whisper with a glare that isn't malicious at all.

"You like it," Jaemin whispers back, booping your nose with a smile.

The screen fades to black with a selfie of you and Jaemin with matching playful pouts, cheeks pressed against each other's as the credits roll.

The next month when matching statements go out about the two of you dating, neither you or Jaemin will admit that it was this interview that did it, but you both (and almost a million other people) know the truth.

[organic-bloodbath]

Teach Ddakji to me - Part 2

The Salesman x American!Reader

Summary: The salesman teaches you a new game: Rock, paper, scissors, minus one. However, he adds a mix to the game whenever one of you loses.

Warnings: 18+ smut, pure sex. Minors, time for you to leave and come back in a few years, this not for your eyes ✋🏻 the door is that way 👉🏻🚪

A/N: This shall have part 3 and i'm working on part 2 for Mingle too ✍️🏻 i haven't written smut in several years so be nice to me thank you, i feel a bit rusty 🥲

Part 1

Taglist:

@apookalypse

@lady-of-blossoms

@k1ra-park3r

♡♡

By now you had been seeing him for over a month. He had asked all kinds of things about your life in the U.S., your studies and what you'd want to do in the future, your hobbies and in general what you liked to do, and so on. He was genuinely interested in getting to know you and it warmed your heart.

He told you a little about his job, how he was recruiting new people for different businesses. He didn't get into lot of details, just said that he did like his job and it paid surprisingly well. He was happy at his current life.

He told you about his family, how his dad had died by someone shooting him to death, and that he didn't really keep in touch with many family members anymore. A lot of them had passed away apparently and he didn't want to get into more details at this stage of your relationship. You did feel sad for him, since you still had many living relatives who had some kind of part in your life, despite you moving so far away from your home.

You had gone to several different dates, none of them ending up all the way to the bedroom - yet. Mostly you had been only making out at the end of the date, and that was a lot. He was fine with waiting as long as you wished, not wanting you to be only a short term thing. You had told him about your past with one of your boyfriends how he had left you right after he had slept with you for the first time. He promised he wouldn't even think of acting like that.

He was a little too perfect and you had waited to find any kinds of flaws he had, but by far you found none and sometimes that worried you a little. There was no way a perfect man like he existed. Everyone had atleast one thing wrong with them, whatever it was.

Tonight, you had booked a hotel room together and you had made sure to wear your best pair of panties and bra, definitely avoiding the least sexy ones you owned. You had gone for a dinner before coming to the hotel, he had paid your meal again like a gentleman, as he always did. You tried to insist that you'd pay yours but he wasn't having any of that. Afterwards, you had let him know that you were ready to go all the way tonight, if he wanted to.

Right now, he was teaching you a new game, though this one you knew already but it had a little different twist to it that you hadn't played before.

Rock, paper, scissors, minus one.

It took you a while to understand how the game worked, but you grasped on the idea well enough. You both sat on your own chairs, directly facing each other, only a small gap between your knees.

He had added his own twist for the game - only with you: The one who lost, had to remove one piece of clothing, randomly chosen.

This time, you lost, his scissors cutting your paper. By now you had taken off only your cardigan, while he had taken off his tie and socks - he was taking it slowly, apparently.

You put your hands under your white top, unclipping your bra and pulling it out without taking your shirt off. You showed your dark red bra to him, hanging it in the air, until you threw it towards him. He catched it easily from the air. He brushed his fingers along the lacy canvas for a few times, until let it lay on his lap.

Another round, which made him lose his shirt. He took his time taking it off, a smirk on his face, just to mess with you. He knew you weren't very patient. But when he had taken it off and you saw him shirtless, you could definitely tell that he worked out regularly and kept himself in shape. You bit your lip and felt your cheeks warming up. God damn, you had prepared yourself for that - but still.

There were barely any words exchanged during the entire game, there was no need for that.

This was definitely a lot better than Ddakji.

It didn't take long anymore until you were only wearing your underwear and nothing else, your chest bare and you could see the hunger in his eyes.

"I think it's time for the second part of the game," he said and got up. "This part i haven't gone through with any other people i've played with."

You could see he was already hard through his underwear, which was the only thing he had on him as well. You got up before he managed to come to you and made him sit back down on the chair. He looked at you, eyebrows lifted up in surprise, but didn't stop what you were doing.

You kneeled down in front of him and pulled his underwear off, finally seeing his size how big he really was and you weren't sure if you'd be able to take it all. You looked up at him while taking his dick in your hand, stroking it a few times. He let out a sigh, not been prepared for you to make a move on him first.

You stroked him a few more times, until taking him in your mouth as deep as you were able to go. You got a gag reflex quite soon but managed to take surprisingly lot of him, though definitely not the entire length.

He grabbed your head with his hand, fingers brushing through your hair. He guided you with his hand for a while, noticing what your limits were so he wasn't pushing your mouth too deep. He let out deep moans and grunts, but before he was about to come, he pulled your head off him.

He pulled you up from the floor and grabbed your waist, pulling you tightly against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips on his, taking him in a deep kiss. His hands fell on your ass, and his tongue found its way into your mouth when you let out a quiet moan.

He pushed you on the bed, immediately crawling on top of you, not breaking the kiss for more than a few seconds.

He massaged your breast until sliding his hand down your stomach all the way to between your legs, under your panties which you still had on. He gently massaged your clit, then putting more pressure on it, making you moan louder than before. He inserted his middle finger inside your vagina, pumping it in and out, soon sliding in a second finger as well.

"Oh god," you whispered, his touch felt so good and you felt like you were going to come sooner than you had expected.

But he stopped when he sensed you were starting to be on the edge of climax. You let out a frustrated groan but he shut you up with another kiss.

He pulled himself back a little bit to take your panties off and got a condom from the bedside table, wrapping it on him. He finally positioned himself against your entrance.

"You ready?" he asked, ready to push in whenever you gave her permission. "You remember the safe word, hm?"

"Ddakji," you breathed with a chuckle and nodded. "Ready."

He didn't wait even a second longer, right then pushing in, slowly. You gritted your teeth, nails digging on his back. God, it hurt so much and you were sure you were going to bleed a little.

"Just, wait a moment, okay?" you said quietly, getting used to his size. You had had sex with a few other men before, but the last time had been in the U.S. and none of them had been as big as him.

He kissed your neck on several different spots, and by now he knew exactly the right spots which made you insane.

"Okay go on," you whispered and that was all needed for him to start moving his hips back and forth.

"God you feel so good," he murmured in your ear.

You moved your hand on the back of his neck, pulling his head into a deep kiss, his tongue playing with yours.

You didn't know how many minutes had passed, you had lost the track of time, and slowly he was fastening his pace, becoming rougher than in the beginning.

Finally, you experienced the best orgasm you had ever had, the waves of pleasure going through your body. You didn't care how loud you were and how thin the walls of this room were, you let your body react the way it wanted. His body fell limp on yours, being a lot more heavy now that he didn't keep himself up on you.

"Was it good?" you whispered, unsure if he enjoyed it as much as you did. It was your first time with him and you weren't sure what kind of sex he had experienced with other women before.

He looked at you with a surprised expression on his face.

"Was it good?" he repeated and then kissed your forehead and smiled. "It was a lot more than just good. It was perfect."

You quickly washed yourself in the bathroom and when you got into the bed, it didn't take long until you fell asleep in his arms.

♡♡

"You fucked him," your roommate gasped, looking at the hickeys on your neck and below your collarbone. "Is this your walk of shame? Oh my god you definitely fucked him."

It was 6am and your class was about to start at 9am. You knew you should have spent the night with him on the weekend, and not when you had to go to a class in the morning, but you had other plans on the weekend and you couldn't wait another week to spend the night with him.

"Shut up," you chuckled, not denying it.

"So, tell me everything," she asked. "No, wait a moment until i get coffee for us."

She could see that you had stayed up late and needed some caffeine to wake you up before the first class. You waited until she was done with the coffee and brought two cups on the table.

"So, is he big?" she asked and your eyes widened. Straight to the deep end, then. "Like how big exactly?"

"Oh, he was big," you said, the back of your mouth still sore.

"On the scale of a cucumber - half of it? 2/3? Don't say an entire cucumber." Her eyes widened and she gasped. "I mean, he looked like he could easily be-"

"Oh god no, i would have instantly walked out of the door in that case," you cringed and showed an estimated size from memory.

"Ok but how did you do it? Bed, table, shower, wall? All of them?" she asked, talking so fast you weren't able to interrupt her. "Sorry, i haven't had sex in months i'm going insane if i don't get some soon. Like my vagina is actually screaming to be filled. Does he possibly have a hot friend? Could you text and ask? Friend, brother, dad - i'll take anything."

"I'm not going to ask that!" you laughed.

"How could you find a hottie like that in a damn subway station anyway? The only man who has come to talk to me there was a homeless man asking for money because he just got out of jail for drunk driving," she said. "Let's go clubbing this Friday, you can be my wingwoman."

"I don't know, i don't really do clubbing," you said awkwardly, you weren't a fan of those places and hadn't been at any club in a few years.

"Please you have to share your tricks with me," she was begging by now. "Otherwise i'm gonna have to seduce our professor who i've had hots for since the beginning of our semester and we all know that's a horrible, horrible idea."

"Yeah, that's a big no," you said instantly.

"You know what must be big? His-"

"Okay shut up," you interrupted immediately before she was able to continue. "Ask one of your friends to go clubbing with you."

"I will, but you should tag along," she insisted. "You should be more social with us outdoors, come on."

"I'll pass this time, thanks," you said, giving an 'i'm sorry' smile. You took a sip of your coffee, then changing the subject. "Oh, by the way, my brother is coming for a visit," you said and pointed a finger on your roommate before she was about to say something. "And he's definitely OFF limits, don't even think about it, he's going to get married next summer."

"Aw, fine," she pouted, for a second she had had her hopes up, but it was quickly erased.

♡♡

The salesman went to a park with a large bag full of bread, there was atleast 50 loafs in total, and pockets full of lottery tickets.

He found a group of homeless men and women, sitting on different benches. He approached them one by one, holding a loaf of bread on the other hand and a single lottery ticket on the other.

The homeless man looked at his hands and was about to take both to himself, but the salesman pulled his hands back.

"You can choose only one of these," he said. The man thought about his choice for a few seconds, until grabbed the lottery ticket. The salesman offered him a coin to scratch the ticket with.

The man's face fell when there was no win. The salesman repeated this action to all the people in the park nearby, and only one of them chose the bread.

Suddenly, he saw you in the distance, but his face fell when he saw who you were with. A young man was walking next to you, arm around you shoulder, keeping you close to him. The salesman had no idea what you were talking about, but somehow the man managed to make you laugh.

He didn't like what he was seeing, not one bit. Anger was rising inside him, he couldn't help it.

"Hey, give me the bread!" one of the homeless men yelled at him.

"Yeah, give us the bread!" a woman shouted nearby.

"I apologise, but you had a chance to choose the bread, but you chose the ticket instead," the salesman pointed out politely and threw the bags of bread on the ground.

He started pouring his anger out by stomping on the breads, mushing them all completely and letting out a few frustrated screams out of his mouth.

The homeless people looked at him like he had lost his mind and should have been taken into a mental hospital. They got up and left, it became too hard to watch a grown man's sudden tantrum.

The salesman pulled his hair back and brushed sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his suit. He took a deep breath to calm down.

"I'm cool, everything's cool," he mumbled to himself and straightened his tie a little bit. He looked around him, barely anyone on his sight anymore. He really needed to work on his anger issues.

♡♡

"Hi," you greeted and planted a kiss on his cheek when you arrived to the cafe a few hours later to meet him.

"How was your day, sweetheart?" he said and forced on a smile. He might have had a little sarcastic tone in his voice, but nothing what you might have noticed.

"Oh, my brother came to visit me, he's staying for a few days. I showed him a few places around here, he had never visited Korea before or really travelled much outside the States," you explained, seeming excited. "I haven't seen him since i moved to Korea."

He lifted his eyebrows and after a moment started laughing a little bit. You looked at him, confused what was so funny.

"Your brother," he mumbled. "Right, of course, your brother. Did you have fun?"

"A lot of fun, yes," you smiled widely. "Do you want to meet him?"

He went silent for a moment, somehow surprised by your suggestion. Sure, you had been dating for a while now but he hadn't been prepared to meeting your family members since they were all far away in the United States. It hadn't really seemed like an option before.

"Well, sure, why not," he said with a smile, though he was surprisingly a little nervous about it, which was quite unusual for him.

♡♡

That same night, your roommate had texted that she had found a guy at the club and if it wouldn't be a problem for you to find another place to spend the night, since she didn't want to go to the guy's place right when she had met him.

You were fine with it and answered that your boyfriend let you stay at his house. Calling him your boyfriend sounded so strange, but he was one, right? It just sounded like you were both still in high school, and he was a lot older than you anyway.

This was your first time visiting his home. You hadn't thought about what kind of home he had or what you were expecting, but it was larger than you had imagined. Certainly a lot fancier than your apartment, which felt like a closet compared to his place.

He hadn't visited your apartment either, so you didn't think much of it that you hadn't seen his place sooner.

He went to the kitchen to get a bottle of wine for you and left you in the living room by yourself. You saw a shelf which seemed to be full of old records, most of them seemed to be artists you weren't familiar with.

"Hey, can i look through your records and find something to listen to?" you shouted.

You heard his approval to choose anything you wanted and started browsing through them.

Then, opening one of the drawers to see if there was more, your heart stopped for a second when you saw something hidden in there.

A gun. He had a gun in his drawer.

You had never held a gun in your hand and carefully lifted it with your hand, making sure to keep your fingers far from the trigger, just in case it was loaded. You looked at it side to side, you didn't know much about guns but it seemed to be a real revolver.

Then, he came back to the living room, a red wine bottle and two wine glasses in his hands, eyes widening when he saw what you were holding and the shocked look on your face.

"Why do you have a gun?"

[i-cant-sing]

TT AU PART 13

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here. Part 10 is here. Part 11 is here. Part 12 is here. Part 14 is here! Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"I cant do this."

He rolls his eyes. "Not with that attitude." He runs a hand through his hair before nodding at you to follow him. You both enter the dance studio that his grandfather built for his wife inside the house because he loved her and well, he had the money.

"Silas, no one can learn ballet in a month." You state again and he lets out an exhale while Cadbury is bringing in about a dozen of ballet flats. "Even if your grandmother were to try and teach me, I still wont be good enough to perform in front of the queen-"

"Your voice is shrill and piercing and thoroughly unpleasant."

You blink at him before scowling. "A simple "shut up" would suffice, you know."

Silas glances at you. "What is this really about? Are you pretending to have low self esteem so I could offer you sympathy?"

"Excuse me?" Your tone sharpened. "Not that I like to remind anyone of the favours I do, but maybe you have forgotten that I literally saved your social image and status from being tarnished yesterday? Or did you forget about our Nikkah?"

Silas suddenly leaned down, bringing his face close to yours. You backed away, and he tilted his head slightly. "And I'm eternally grateful for that, missus, but the Nikkah saved your image too. Must I remind you that I converted to Islam too?"

"Because it benefitted you, not me." You spat out, only to inhale sharply as he gripped your chin firmly.

"As is the stipend I've been paying you, yet you fail to write a single article on the murders."

He pouted, feigning hurt. "Besides, are you saying I am not a real Muslim? That I have malicious intentions? Doesnt that go against your teachings- what is it? Not to judge someone?"

"I dont need to judge when its all so apparent-"

"Ah, good to see the love birds again!" Sarah's voice made you two pull away from each other. She clasped her hands as she made her way towards you two.

"Nana." Silas greeted her and kissed her cheeks. "Thank God you're here. My sweetheart is so concerned over this performance, even though I've assured her many times that she will be learning from the best. There's just no way she would mess this up!"

Sarah laughed heartily. "Stop buttering me up! And she is right to be concerned. Anyone would be nervous to perform in front of an audience, especially the queen!"

Silas wrapped one arm each around your and Sarah's shoulders, pulling you two close to him. "I only see a queen and a princess here. There's no need to be nervous. Just have fun!"

Just have fun? What kind of bullshit motivation is that-

Sarah smiled and nodded. "He's right, Y/n. As long as you're having fun, you're going to be just fine darling!"

-

Colin never thought he'd have to resort to day drinking.

And yet here he is, adding whatever he could grab his hands on and fill the flask with and mixing it in his coffee.

I need this. He reasoned with himself. Its not that much, just small doses to keep me sane when Y/n comes.

And then you do, in your Sherlock Holmes disguise, cheerfully greeting him before going to Will's office to work on the murder story.

He takes another sip of his coffee as he tries to process... well, everything.

Why was I attracted to you? Why am I still attracted to you even though I acted as a witness to your wedding with that rich bastard-

Another sip. He scowled before adding some more liquour, then he sipped it. Better.

Whats the best way to get over a crush? Crush? Is that what you were? An infatuation, a passing by fancy? So, how do I get over-

Wait. He set his mug down. You know that he and the boys all know that your marriage to Silas is a sham. You never really hid the fact but now they had all witnessed that it was just a rushed, possibly contractual marriage that Silas wants to save his ass.

So the marriage is bound to end. He doesnt have to get over you. No, not really. If anything, I should be spending more time with you. Yes. Yes! This way, when you and Silas end things, Colin will be right there to comfort you and support you! He needs to be the first man there after you dump Silas, lest anyone else gets ideas and wants to marry you as well.

Colin got up and managed to make his way to his boss's office without bumping into anyone. He's going to ask to work on the murder story and then you two will spend time-

"No. Keep working on the asylum story. We have enough people on the murder case." His boss dismissed him.

Colin slumped in his desk as he looked at the coffee mug. Eh, what the hell? He took another sip and another solution popped in his head.

If he cant help you with the murder story, then perhaps you can help him with the asylum story!

-

Silas handed you the invite.

"How did you get it so fast?" You asked, examining the small paper with elegant writing. It was the invite to the Gentleman's club, the one Henry owns. You'd asked Silas to get you an invite to what was an exclusive, members only club (when you tried entering the club, the men at the front laughed you out.)

Silas looked at you unamused, with his arms crossed over his chest. "Must I remind you who I am?"

A pompous ass?

"Of course not, my duke." You said mockingly, before raising a brow at him. "I suppose it would make sense for you to get easy access to shady places like this. You might be their popular customer."

"Oh darling, I'm popular everywhere." Silas shot back before dismissing you with his hand. "You can go now."

"What? You arent going to ask me why I'm going there?" You asked him. "Maybe you dont care that I am going there, but arent you worried about Mrs Fitzgerald or Duchess Y/n being in a place like that?"

Silas shrugged nonchalantly. "No." He leaned back in his chair. "I trust you not to screw up or entangle yourself in scandals. But even if you do end up in trouble, I will stand by you."

"You will?" You couldn’t hide the disbelief in your tone.

He nodded. "Of course. Look, I know we are in this... unconventional relationship and it appears that I couldnt care less about your existence, but you still carry my surname next to yours. And I wont allow anyone to disrespect what or who is associated with me. So, rest assured-" He leans forward, resting his arms on the mahogany desk and clasped his hands. "you have my support in all your endeavours, Mrs Silas."

A small smile formed on your lips. Maybe he's not so bad.

"Thank you, Silas- oh, can you drop me off there?" You knew he was going to leave in the carriage soon.

"No, I dont want my beautiful, pure bred stallions to go through those dirty streets. You can walk."

Jerk.

You stomped out of his study, not noticing the butler going in after you with the dessert you'd made for yourself last night.

"And what's this?" Silas asked him as he took a bite of the decadent, gooey chocolatey dessert.

"Uh, the duchess called it "brown-ies", but I've never heard of it before." Cadburry watched Silas ate it and sighed dreamily. "Do you like it, sir?"

"No." Silas pushed the empty plate towards him. "But I'd rather not have grandmother eat her cooking and say something. Bring me the leftovers."

"Y/n- oh, are you going somewhere?" Sarah asked just as you were about to leave.

"Yes, um- I'm going to meet my friends." Its not like you could tell her that you worked in the paper disguised as a man.

"Male friends?" She asked.

"Yes. My old flatmates." You watched her smile falter. "What?"

"Nothing, dearie. Enjoy your time with them! I hope you'll join us for dinner." You nodded and left while Sarah looked for her grandson.

"Where's Silas? I must speak to him this instant." She asked the maid, who informed her that the duke had went to play tennis just moments ago.

"Tennis?"

The maid nodded. "Yes. With his uncles."

Sarah was a little surprised to hear that. Not the tennis part, no. Silas is extremely well at any sport he plays, but she knows her sons arent ones who are good at athletics, let alone at a sport as strenuous as tennis.

An idea popped in her head.

-

You stood outside the Gentleman's club, watching people go in. Smoothing your hands over your black velvet dress, you made your way to the door.

After handing them your invitation, they let you inside and you saw a waiter handing everyone masquerade masks from a silver tray. Perhaps it was the theme for the club tonight, or maybe the club just gave masks to everyone to conceal their identities.

You were given a black and gold mask that covered the upper half of your face. As you adjusted the mask over your face, you heard a familiar voice.

"I need to see her. Now." You looked over your shoulder and saw Benjamin harshly whisper to one of the waiters. "She told me to come and I'm late as it is. Dont make her wait any longer!" You turned your head away as the waiter lead Benjamin into the club, all while Benjamin yanked a mask off the tray and pulled it over his head.

What is Benny doing here?

You quickly followed him inside, lest you lost sight of him, which you did as soon as you stepped into the main hall and were immediately stunned to your place at the sight.

Loud jazz music played by a band live, smell of smoke and alcohol filled the air and people. There were so many people, despite the club being "exclusive". And as your eyes scanned them, trying to spot familiar faces, your heart dropped at the realisation of what they were doing.

This was... an adult club. That kind of adult club, the one where there are absolutely no limitations on who is doing what with whom, all drunk on pleasure and drugs of course, no inhibitions. You spotted men with men, women with men, and more than one person pleasing another man.

Thats why this is an exclusive club, why they gave everyone masks. Because if word got out that a someone was here doing.... something that was generally a taboo and even punishable by both God and the law, well it would put them in huge trouble. People came here to let loose, to give in to their darkest desires.

What the hell is Benny doing here?

Averting your eyes, you looked for Benjamin and spotted him from afar, going into a room.

Oh God, please dont let it be a- please dont let sweet Benny be a depraved creep.

You waited for him to come out and after about 20 minutes, the door finally opened.

Benny walked out first, adjusting his mask again and then leaving. You're about to follow him, perhaps even confront him for being here when someone else walks out of the room as well.

A tall woman wearing a bright red, backless dress and a golden mask concealing her identity. But what really stood out were two things- first, her fiery red-orange hair that was styled into voluminous Hollywood waves. And second was her figure, her athletic built, or more specifically her broad shoulders and muscled arms.

Everything about this woman screamed important. And if it werent for her looks that demanded attention, then it was certainly her aura. People parted the way when she walked past them, all looking at her as if she was their saviour, an angel or divinity among men, which is ironic considering where you were.

You jumped as you felt an arm snake around your waist.

"What the hell?!" You looked at the culprit, who turned out to be a blonde woman drunk off her head.

"Oh dont be like that! Come on, love, let me show you a good time-" She tried to touch you again but you backed away before she could.

"No, thank you." You dismissed her, going back to looking at the red head.

"Prude." The blonde muttered before following your gaze. "Oh so thats what you're into? Well, put me in a red wig and we can play like that!"

"No, thanks." You huffed, eyes still trained on the woman in red.

The blonde scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, its not like you'd be able to sleep with the club owner."

"She's the club owner? I thought Mr Blackwood owned this place."

"He does, but Lady Scarlett there runs this place, from entertainment to management. She does it all!"

Lady Scarlett? Fitting name.

Pushing away the blonde one more time, you looked for Lady Scarlett, except you lost sight of her now. You scanned the entire ballroom, but she was nowhere in sight.

"Shit." You mumbled, turning around only to stumble back as you came face-to-face with her, or well... face-to-chest. She towered over you.

Her bright red lips smiled knowingly at you. "Looking for me?" She asked in a sultry voice, stalking towards you until you were backed up against the wall.

"N-no-" You yelped as she suddenly grabbed both of your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head.

You stared at her wide eyed as she leaned down, hovering inches away from your face and thats when it hit you-

Lady Scarlett is a man.

Of course! The muscled arms, the manly built, and now on close inspection, you saw the clean shave under the makeup too.

"Y-you're a man." You stated in disbelief, hoping to catch her or him, off guard. What even is he? A drag queen? A trans? You dont know if they existed in victorian era.

Scarlett tilted her head. "So? Are you the only one who is allowed to cross dress as the other gender?"

What? No, no way she knows-

She leaned in closer, whispering in your ear. "Did I catch you off guard, Mr Holmes?"

She knows!

"How- how did you-"

She smirked. "I know everyone that is associated with Mr Blackwood." She brought a hand up to your face, and you noticed a golden ring on her ring finger. She cupped your face. "And I know for a fact Henry wouldnt like his latest infatuation snooping around in a place like this. So..." She leaned into you again, staring into your eyes. "Leave."

You didnt have to be told twice. Lady Scarlett, that cross dresser creeped you out, even more so when she already knew you.

Stumbling out of the club, you removed your mask, dropping it to the ground. The fresh night air filled your lungs and cleared out the smokey air from the club. It was quiet outside, considering it was way past midnight and everyone was home now.

And I have to walk all the way home. You huffed, rubbing your arms. Because my husband would rather I get hypothermia than let his precious ponies walk through these streets.

You turn around, walking away from the club to see if there was a carriage available at this time, when you hear a shrill scream from the alleyway you're walking past.

And there it is- a woman lying in a puddle of her own blood as huge, dark figure slashed her face over and over again. The moonlight hit the woman's face- a blonde woman-

-the blonde from the club.

Frozen in your place, the figure stood up and looked at you, not at all looking startled at being caught mutiliating someone. It was definitely a man, huge stature, and he stared at you, the dark night concealing his identity. He slowly bent down to pick something up, a top hat, dusting it off before placing it on his head.

And then he tipped his hat at you.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck-

It wasnt until he took a step towards you that you finally broke out of your trance and ran. You ran and ran, not even risking a look back, not realising where you were running off to until you burst through their door, out of breath and paler than white paint.

"Y/n?" Colin rushed towards you, the Shepherd and Liam rushing into the living room as Colin helped you inside. "What happened? What's wrong?" He feared, as did all the boys, that Silas had done something to you.

"I- I- I-" You shake your head, the image of the dark figure running through your mind, the hat, the long cloak, the knife- it finally pieced together.

"I think I saw Jack the Ripper."

-

You sat at the police station with Colin. After explaining everything, he'd convinced you to report the murder.

The detective lead you inside the interrogation room, motioning for you to sit down as you began giving your statement.

"And who did you think the murderer was?"

"Jack the Ripper." Your answer made him roll his eyes. "And who might that be, miss?"

"I dont know." The investigator shook his head exasperated. "Of course you dont." He muttered, then sighed.

"So, what were you doing at this club?"

"Me?" You didnt pause for long. "I was invited there. My- my husband wanted me to attend on his behalf."

"Your husband-" he paused, reading your surname on the paper. "Fitzgerald? Wait, you're Mrs Silas Fitzgerald?" You nodded, making him sigh. "Guess it makes sense for you to be there..."

Whats that supposed to mean?

"Did you see anyone familiar there?"

"No." You answered curtly, before adding another detail. "Everyone was wearing masks. Couldnt recognise anyone even if I wanted to."

What? I'm not gonna rat out Benjamin and make him the prime suspect without gathering all the facts before.

It's definitely not because I have a soft spot for him since he reminds me of Qasim so much. Nope.

The door suddenly swung open and in walked what you assumed was the detectives superior since the man got up.

"Is this the witness for club murder?" The higher up asked him.

"Yes sir, she was just giving her statement-"

"No need. Dismiss the witness and the case. It's been handled." He told the detective who only nodded.

"Handled by who? You can't just dismiss the case!" You exclaimed getting up. But before he could reply, someone walked in from behind him.

"You can go now, Smith. I'll see Miss Y/n gets home safely." Henry patted the higher ups shoulder who left with the detective.

"What are you doing, Henry?" You crossed your arms.

"I could ask you the same." He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms as well.

"I'm reporting a murder that happened outside your club! I saw him-"

"Saw who? Jack the Ripper?" He scoffed. "You think you saw him, but all you really saw was a dark shadow."

You shake your head. "I did see him-!"

"And how do you know that he's Jack the Ripper?" He pushed himself off the door frame, walking closer to you. "How do you know that he's the Ripper when no one knows who the man is?!"

You pursed your lips. You could argue that the victim profile and post mortem show a matching pattern but you doubt Henry is going to listen to reason.

"Even so, you should still let me give my statement. Why are you adamant on me not giving one? A woman was murdered for God's sake!" You try to walk past him, but he grabs your arm and yanks you back, making your chest collide with his.

"She was my employee. She worked for the club. And you-" his face hardened. "-you are insulting her death by making it a public frenzy. By stating that some sick nobody, someone who was nicknamed by the papers just to strike fear in people's hearts, killed her. I will not let you use her death so that your paper could make a quick buck! Jack the Ripper is a nobody!"

-

"Why do you think Blackwood's trying to cover up the murder?" Colin asked you as you two made your way towards your next destination.

"I dont know." You huffed. "Maybe he knows who the murderer is? Maybe he's protecting his business? Surely, if people were to hear that a serial killer made an appearance near his club, he'd lose clients."

"Or maybe he's the killer." You stopped and looked at him. Colin looked at you knowingly. "It would make sense for him to be Jack the Ripper, or at least the man who murdered that woman. It is very suspicious of him to probably bribing the coppers to drop the case."

You shake your head. "Its too obvious."

He rolled his eyes. "What? So Henry cant be the murderer because its “too obvious?” People make mistakes-"

"Not Henry." You cut him off. "He's too smart, calculating. There's got to be another reason for him to be sweeping this all under the carpet."

Colin shakes his head in disbelief, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked ahead. "We're here."

You followed his gaze and saw the building. The sign on the gate read-

"Aveline's Asylum"

"Really? Right now?" You asked Colin, who just smiled cheekily.

"It'll take your mind off things. Just take a break and help me on this assignment and we can go back to speculating what Blackwood's motives are." He raised his brows. "Plus, I think you'll enjoy this one."

You followed him inside the asylum, walking through the lush green gardens and seeing the pristine white building ahead, you wondered how this would help Colin's "exposing horrendous hospital environments and patient care" article when all of this reall just screamed "rehab for the rich".

"Shouldnt we go to an asylum that is in much worse conditions than this? Possibly next to a workhouse?" You asked him, but Colin just smiled. "Why did you choose this place, Colin?”

"You'll see." He says before whispering to you. "Remember your script. And... action!”

While pretending to be insane (which was easy because all you had to say was that you don’t think being a mom or stay-at-home wife is your life’s purpose), you saw a familiar figure there. And he saw you too.

“Y/n? Colin?” Benjamin looked surprised. “What are you two doing here?”

“Working on an article.” Colin replied, glancing at the way you’d gotten quiet, staring at Benjamin.

“Oh. Right, the horrible healthcare environment. But why this place? Its practically one of the finest asylums, housing mostly the wealthy of London.”

Colin nodded. “I know! But I have a hunch about this place-”

“What are you doing here?” You cut him off.

“Me? Oh, I’m here to give haircuts.” Ben chuckled nervously. “Its not a noble cause, but the wealthy unwell patients do pay a lot.”

“Mmhm, where’s your hair kit?” You remember distinctly that Ben was very particular about using his own scissors, so he often carried his own.

Ben looked caught off-guard by your question, but he quickly recovered. “The nurses provided me with their own. Cant carry scissors around an asylum now, can I?”

How convenient.

Colin continued to make small talk with Ben, while you studied him. Even if you didn’t tell anyone that you saw Ben at the club the night of the murder, doesn’t mean that you didn’t suspect him. For all you know, appearances can be deceiving and this sweet man may just be the infamous Jack the Ripper.

Blonde haired, the kindest eyes, the sweetest smile, a golden retriever in human form- could Benjamin really have killed all those women so brutally? Then again, Ted Bundy was also known for his good looks and superficial charm.

Am I really comparing Benny to Ted Bundy? God, I hope I’m wrong.

“I should go now. See you at home?” Ben asked you, hopeful.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, Ben’s smile faltering at your answer. He then raised his hand to shake Colin’s and thats when you noticed a distinctly familiar golden ring on his hand.

The same one you’d seen on Lady Scarlett’s hand.

And just like that, everything fell into place.

-

By the time you’d reached home, you’d pieced out the story. Ben being at the exclusive club and being discrete about it, seen in a room with Lady Scarlett, both wearing the same rings-

He’s in a relationship with her. Or him.

Thats why Ben was at that club! Homosexuality or anything else that isn’t heterosexuality was simply not accepted in Victorian England, and was possibly punishable by law! Just look at Oscar Wilde! Ben is dating Scarlett, keeping it discrete, he never committed any murders because he’s not Jack the Ripper. He’s just not straight!

Oh, I’m so glad you’re not the Ripper, Benny. I knew you weren’t capable of committing such heinous crimes.

As for why he was at the asylum, maybe he’s telling the truth. He did come to give the rich patients a haircut because he needs the money to maintain Scarlett’s lifestyle or maybe be rich enough to whisk her/him away from the club.

Benny is such a gentleman.

Now that Benny is no longer a suspect, that leaves Henry to be the main suspect. Maybe he’s not the one killed the woman, maybe he hired someone? Or maybe Henry’s not the killer either, its just too- obvious.

“Why do you think Henry stopped me from reporting the murder?” You asked Silas as you whisked the eggs before adding them to the pan. Silas had entered the kitchen the moment he heard you were cooking, though he did shoot you a weird look for making scrambled eggs at 11 pm. With you running around London all day, you hadn’t found time to eat until now, and you were just looking for a quick meal really.

“He probably doesn’t want you scaring off his customers. If word gets out that a murderer, or as you claim- “The Ripper” was seen near the club, then people wont be frequenting the place. Or perhaps he’s protecting the murderer?” Silas suggests, swallowing as the smell of butter wafts through the kitchen.

You add cubes of cold butter in, then look at him. “What? You don’t believe that I saw the Ripper?”

“I believe that if you really saw the Ripper, then you wouldn’t still be alive. He had the time and the opportunity to get rid of you.Why else would the notorious killer would let a witness get away?” Silas crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the kitchen counter near the stove.

“Maybe because he targets prostitutes? All of his previous victims match that profile.”

“Like he could tell a difference-”

“Are you saying I look like a prostitute?” You dished out the eggs. “No, you’re saying that. I’m saying that the man you saw kill that woman was just an amateur who was caught offguard by you, otherwise he would’ve attacked you too.” Silas states before grabbing the plate of buttery scrambled eggs on toast from your hands.

“Hey! Thats mine-” “My kitchen, my eggs.” He smirked before walking off. “You can make yourself more, I need to feed my dogs first.”

You glared at him until he left the kitchen, not knowing whether he really was going to feed it to the dogs or it was just a lie disguised as an insult so that he could eat it himself.

It was the latter. Always.

-

The next day, after you’d taken another ballet lesson from Sarah, you were about to go out to investigate the club again but Sarah had other plans for you.

“Y/n, I need you to stay at home today.”

“Oh, is everything alright?” You ask. She never made you stay home before. “Are we having company?”

“No. I think that you should play some sports to keep yourself fit. As a ballerina, it is important to keep both the mind and the body sound, and what better way to achieve that than by playing in the sun!” She lead you outside towards the tennis court, hidden by the huge bushes for privacy from outsiders.

“Tennis?” You ask her, and she confirms it. “Yes. Do you know how to play?”

Do I know how to- if I wasn’t so obsessed with history and sciences (and my mom scared that me wearing a skirt would attract predators), I had plans on playing professionally. Qasim and I used to play tennis at the club he’d won a membership in. We were both very competitive but he was just always a little better than me. He always knew my moves, he read me like an open book.

I was second only to Qasim though. Everyone else? They ate dust.

“Yes, I do.” You smiled at her. “Who am I playing with?”

“Me.” Silas spoke from behind you, dressed in all-white tennis wear. He looked at Sarah unamused. “Nana, I thought you said you had a worthy opponent for me.”

You shot him a glare, but Sarah came to your defense. “Now, now. You don’t know how capable your wife is. And I’m willing to bet that she’d make you run out of breath, Silas.”

You smiled cheekily as Silas scoffed. “We’ll see.” Sarah places a hand on your back. “Why don’t you go get changed, dear? I had the maids prepare an outfit for you.” When you left, Sarah looked at Silas. “Now Silas, I know you play exceptionally well but you must remember that this match is more of a way to spend time with your wife. Not a way to show off. So, be a gentleman, hm?”

You huffed as you returned to the tennis court. What the hell is this? Silas gets to wear a shirt and pants and I have to wear a full length dress with a corset and a hat?!

Mom would probably have let me gone pro if this was the official tennis wear for women.

Sarah sat on the side lines and watched you two play. Silas let you serve first and after a couple of back-and-forth, you won the first point. And then the next. And the next.

“Ah, you’re doing fantastic, Y/n!” Sarah cheered before standing up when the butler informed her that a guest has come to see her. “I’ll be back! You two keep playing!”

As Sarah left, you couldn’t help but tease Silas. What? He still makes you sleep on the floor! “So, how does it feel to lose to a girl?”

“I wouldn’t know.” And with that, Silas threw the ball in the air and served.

The ball shot past your head, just centimetres away from hitting you.

“What the hell? I wasn’t ready-”

“Lame excuses dont work on me.” He pulled out another ball and bounced it. “Are you ready now, duchess?”

You scowled at him before getting in position. “I’m ready, jerk.”

You lost two of the three matches. The first match you almost won was because Sarah was there and Silas was going easy on you, but when Sarah left, Silas regained all those points by serving topspin and slice serves. By the second match, you were finally able to return his fast serves, but now Silas used his speed and your lack of because of your heavy dress and made you run around all over the court trying to return his fast shots. By the third match, you were all out of breath but not out of determination. So, Silas decided that now would be the time to use your body as target practise and he hit the ball over your legs and arms, only stopping when one shot hit you in the head and made you fall on the ground.

“Are you okay?” He asked, barely suppressing the glee in his voice. He held out a hand to help you up, but you swatted it away and got up on your own.

“Finish the game.” You growled and he raised his hands in surrender before returning to his side of the court. For the rest of the third match, he missed all the shots you served and let you win. And he did it so openly, not even being courteous enough to hide his intentions.

Sarah watched you return inside the house, looking all sweaty and angry as you stomped unto your room. Silas trailed in behind, a satisfied grin on his face and Sarah shook her head at him disappointedly. “What did you do, Silas?”

“Nothing. I even let her win the last round, but she’s still angry.” Sarah looked at him admonishingly, making him sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll go talk to her. The things I do for you, Nana.”

“The things you do for love, Silas.” She corrected him.

Sure. Silas rolled his eyes mentally. I “love” Y/n.

Silas entered the bedroom and saw you had showered and changed into new clothes. “Going somewhere? Perhaps to get some handkerchiefs to wipe all the sweat and tears?” He watched you glare at him through the mirror and he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing. But seriously, where are you going? I could give you a ride.”

“I’m going to an asylum with Colin.” You huff, packing some things in your small purse. Silas nodded. “Good idea to get yourself finally checked-” He dodged the hairbrush you threw at his head, chuckling. “Now now, duchess. It isn’t exactly speaking much for your mental health for you to be chucking things at your dear husband.”

Ignoring his antics, you slipped on your shoes, walking out of the room. He trailed behind you. “Dont be mad. I’m just playing around. Come on, I’ll drop you off at Saint Peters asylum. Its on my way to work.”

“I’m not going to Saint Peters. I’m going to Aveline’s.” You stated, ready to walk off but he grabbed your arm.

“What?” You looked at his shocked face. “What?” You repeated his question. Why did he suddenly look so pale.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his grip tightening when you tried to move. “Which asylum?”

“Aveline’s.” You frowned, grabbing his hand and removing it from your arm. Silas expression paled further.

“Why?”

You shrugged. “Colin wants to do an article on horrible asylum conditions and treatment of patients-”

“Dont.” Silas ordered more than he suggested. “That place- don’t go there.”

“And why not?” You looked at him skeptically. “Colin wants to do a piece on the place-”

“Pick another asylum. I can get you access to any other.” Silas ignored your question, averting his eyes. “You will not go there, and you will not write a piece on that asylum.”

You grabbed his arm to make him look at you. “What are you hiding, Silas?”

Silas stared at you before yanking his arm out of your grasp. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Just- do as I say.” He raised finger, wagging it at your warningly. “I’m telling you- you will not go there again, Y/n. And if I find out that you or Colin or anyone else tried to write about that place, I will shut down that paper and make sure none of them find a job ever.”

You watched Silas leave you there standing dumbfounded.

Did he really just threaten me?

This bitch.

-

Silas watched you leave from the window. He knows you wont listen to him, knows that its inevitable to try to stop you from going to Aveline, so he already sent someone to bribe the staff to not let you on the asylum premises. He’s not worried about who you’re meeting or where you’re going, just as long as its not Aveline.

No. He closed his eyes, painful memories flashing through his mind. You cant know. You cant know.

He sat down on his chair, trying to think of ways to divert your attention from the asylum. You’re as stubborn as a mule, you wont listen to him. So he has to create distractions for you.

Jack the Ripper!

Of course, the murder case!

“Cadburry!” He called his butler. “Arrange me an invite for the Gentleman’s club. Now.”

You were sitting in the boys apartment, Benjamin playing with your hair out of habit, braiding it, unbraiding it, then braiding it again. Colin sat confused. “Why cant we go to the asylum today?”

“I’m not in the mood to see depressing white halls today. Besides, I have an errand to run.” You lean your head further back for Benny.

“And what that might be?” Colin was intrigued.

“Girly errand. You wont understand.” You dismiss him. “But we’ll go to Aveline’s again, thats for sure.” You felt Benny tug your hair at that statement.

“Ow! Benny!” You glare at him. Ben shakes out of his daze, apologising profusely. “Sorry, sorry! I was just lost in my thoughts.”

A coy smile formed on your lips. Lost in thought? Oh, I know exactly what kind of thoughts you’re having, Benny.

Colin stood up with a sigh. “Alright then. I’ll go to office and start writing down a draft.” You nodded as he left you alone with Ben.

Once you heard the door click, you immediately turned around. “Hey, Benny.”

He gave you a gentle smile. “Hey, Y/n.”

“So…” you wiggled your brows at him. “What’s going on with you?”

“Hmm… nothing much really. I got a new customer who wanted a toupee. Apparently word got around that I’m a very skilled barber, no matter how much hair one has or lack of, I can make it work!”

“Yes, thats lovely Benny, but-” you cleared your throat. “I meant, whats going on with you, personally. You look happier, livelier these days.”

He shrugged, offering you another sweet smile. “I guess that’s just the effect you have on people around you.”

Ugh! Stop being so charming, Benny!

“Thanks, Benny. But… I don’t know, I feel like there’s something different about you.” You tried another approach. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I wont ever judge you or anything.”

Though he was smiling, you saw something flicker in his eyes. Doubt? Fear?

“What do you mean, Y/n?” He asked, his voice stable as usual.

Your eyes studied him.

“Did you meet someone new?”

There it is! That flicker in his eyes. His face didn’t let anything away but his eyes, you saw it.

“Yes.” Finally, we’re getting somewhere. “I met you.”

Stupid Benny. Annoying Benny.

Sighing, you realise that maybe he’s just not ready to come out yet. And that I shouldn’t take it personally because I am close with him and he could tell me anything, just like Qasim would. It would be unfair to force Ben to tell you about Lady Scarlett before he’s ready.

“Thanks, Benny.” You said, hiding your disappointment. “I have to go now. Have to go… run that errand.”

“Oh, need me to come?” He got up with you. You shake your head. “No, I’ll manage on my own.”

Why would I tell you when you wont tell me about your love?

-

You were now standing outside the club again. You had initially returned to the back alley to investigate the crime scene again but it had been scrubbed clean and Henry had somehow managed to get a permit to start construction to expand the club further.

He was erasing the crime scene. Henry was trying to hide something.

Speak of the devil, you saw Henry exit the club and get in his carriage. Once you were sure he’d left, you made your way towards the club entrance, still having the invite from last time, only for the guards to stop you.

“I’m sorry but Mr Blackwood has forbidden you from entering the club, Miss Y/n.” One guard said, holding a hand up to halt you.

“Mrs Fitzgerald.” You corrected him, hoping to use the name to get by. “I am the duchess of Westminster!”

“Forgives us, Miss Y/n, but Mr Blackwood specifically instructed us to not let you in and he also instructed us not to address you by anything but Miss Y/n or- um…” The other guard trailed off, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“Or?” You sneered at him to continue.

“Or… future-Mrs Blackwood.” He mumbled but you heard him loud and clear.

I’m going to kill him.

“Listen here and listen clear!” Your voice took a threatening tone, though you’re sure it would look comical to an outsider seeing a woman of your stature trying to intimidate men who were towering over you with their buff physiques.

“I am going to only be addressed as MRS FITZGERALD and you will let me in this club right now or I will have my husband, the duke of Westminster, shut this place down before your twat boss would dare to associate his name with me again!” You yelled with your nostrils flared. “Now, you will march in and inform Lady Scarlett that I’m here to see her. And if she says no, tell her I know about the rings!”

The guards shared a look, probably trying to communicate telepathically whether to let you in or not.

Fortunately for you, your huffing and puffing seemed to work and one of them walked in before returning moments later.

“Please wait for a short while Lady Scarlett entertains some guests.”

After about 20 long minutes, during which you were sure Henry would turn up and have you carried off the premises, the guards finally lead you inside.

“This way, future Mrs Blackwood.” You shot him a glare but didn’t say anything since you were inside the club anyways. They lead you up the stairs towards the room that you had seen Ben go into the last time you were here.

The door opened and you saw a large bed on one side, silk sheets and plush cushions adorning it, and a huge vanity in the other corner, full of makeup and expensive jewels, all arranged in an orderly manner. Then there was a table next to the vanity on which sat a variety of beautiful red haired wigs.

“They’re made from real hair.” A voice said from behind you. You turned to see Lady Scarlett, wearing a maroon robe and a black mask covering her identity. Her trademark red hair, still styled as beautifully as the first time you saw it and that bright red lipstick on her lips. “Benjamin was sweet enough to get them for me.”

She walked past you and sat down on a couch next to the window that opened to the balcony outside, and then she lit up a cigarette, holding it in a vintage cigarette holder.

Not that I would ever condone a nasty habit such as smoking, but she looked absolutely badass in that moment.

“What do you want, Mrs Blackwood?” Scarlett let out a huge exhale of smoke.

“Fitzgerald. I know about the rings.” You state, watching her take another drag.

“What rings?” She asked, feigning innocence.

“The golden rings.” You narrow your eyes. “I saw it on your hand that night and I saw it on Benjamin’s hand as well. I know whats going on, and I’m here to talk about that.” Taking a deep breath, you blurted out your suspicions.

“I know you and Benjamin are in a relationship.”

She looked up at you expectedly, not at all alarmed at being caught. Then again, why would she be caught off guard? Considering the line of business she’s in, she probably has practiced her poker face.

“Is that so, Mrs Blackwood?” Scarlett’s lip’s curled up. “So what?”

So what?

“Look, I mean no harm, but I- I care about Benjamin a lot. He’s like family to me, and I know its not my place but I am very protective of him and I just… I’m just here to make sure that this is not some sort of game for you. I don’t want you playing with his feelings, so if you’re not serious about him then I suggest you end things with him now before it gets too messy.”

Scarlett looked at you before chuckling. “As you wish, Mrs Blackwood.” He stood up with a click of his tongue. “Now, is that all or do you have any more shocking news to pass on to me, Mrs Blackwood? I suggest you do it now because you wont be stepping a foot in this club again.”

“Its Mrs Fitzgerald. And I don’t plan on returning to this depraved scum either.”

“Depraved scum, huh?” Scarlett tilted her head slightly in a mocking manner. “Since you insist on calling yourself Mrs Fitzgerald so proudly, let me show you something as well.” He opened the door and lead you towards the top of the stairwell, from where you could see everyone and everything down below on the dance floor.

She nodded her head to the far right corner and your heart dropped for a second. Is that-

“Mr Fitzgerald seems to be enjoying himself. Though not all that much.” Scarlett said as your eyes remained focused on Silas who was sitting on a chair, looking uninterested by the different women who surrounded him. “Maybe he likes boys. I’ll send some his way-” You rushed out of the club, not able to hear another word or see Silas for another moment longer.

-

Its been a couple of days since you went to the club. Of course, when you arrived home and waited for Silas to return, who upon your questioning about his whereabouts claimed he was meeting a businessman.

He lied.

You tried to distract yourself by taking more ballet lessons from Sarah, but still your attention lingered on him.

Why was he there?

You then tried to divert your mind towards work, and then here you are, sitting on your desk with a blank paper, ready to be filled with words.

Why was he there?

Dropping your pen because you knew you weren’t going to be able to get anything done until you processed your feelings about this.

What feelings? Certainly not jealousy because I am far more mature than this. Its just-

I thought he had standards. Taste. Sure I might not be fine wine, but I’m certainly better than those skank-

Nope. I am a woman. I will not be bringing other women down because of a man.

But Silas… how dare he? Yes, how dare he?! I am not jealous, I am insulted! How dare he act like he’s a polished aristocrat and I’m just ditzy, poorer than a church mouse, a NOBODY, when he goes around prancing his repute and himself in the utter gutters of London?

Maybe he’s just hypersexual. Yes, he’s a depraved, disgusting individual and I married him. Great. So the first man I married, had a NIKKAH with, turned out to be lying, cheating, piece of-

Why did he lie?

Its not like he expects me to sleep with him. If he did, why would he still make me sleep on the floor?

Baldwin would’ve never made me sleep on the floor, always covered me with his cloak because he knew how much the cold bothered me.

And he’s always so rude to me! He beat me at tennis, quite literally!

Salauddin always lost to me in chess. And he let me rub my wins in his face too!

Not to mention, how uncaring he is to my feelings!

Ibrahim always put my happiness above everything. He chose to wait for me, until I was safe- felt safe.

And of all of them, I ended up marrying Silas.

How dare he?

Pushing yourself back into your desk, you began writing down furiously. Fuck Silas, fuck Henry, and fuck Lady Scarlett! I WILL go back to Aveline Asylum, I WILL expose the the Ripper and- if I have time, maybe find Benny a better significant other!

“Woah there- what are you writing?” Colin came up behind you, frowning at the title he read.

“The Ripper strikes again! Murder outside the exclusive club for the wealthy freaks!” Colin looked at you. “Have you gone bonkers?”

“Yes.” You snapped. “You cant talk me out of it, so why don’t you go and get us access into Aveline asylum again. Discreetly, this time.”

By the time everyone was going home, you had finished your article and dropped it on the editor’s desk just as he was about to leave.

“Read this. Trust me, its worth it.” You look over your shoulder. “And I have a witness ready to go public- Mrs Fitzgerald.” Of course, the editor wouldn’t ever figure out that you are Mrs Fitzgerald, not Mr Holmes.

-

However, you were a little surprised to see that he hadn’t published your article in the paper the next morning. Storming to work, you quickly made your way towards the editor’s office, barging in without knocking.

“Hello there, love.” He smiled cheekily. Instead of your editor, Henry Blackwood sat in his chair, his legs propped up on the desk. “I was waiting for you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“What? You can barge into my business, but I can’t swing by yours?” He asked, feigning hurt.

“No. Now leave.”

“Well then its a good thing that this is also my business now.” Henry grinned, removing his feet from the desk and replacing them with his arms, resting his head in his hand as he stared at your fuming self.

“What?”

“Oh love, you’re looking at your new boss. I just bought the paper this morning.” He winked, standing up and making his way to you. “See, I told you not to come by the club again, I told you to drop the Ripper case, and you didn’t listen either time. So, I’ve come here to tame you. Personally. Seems like you need my undivided attention, kitten-”

“I did drop the Ripper case. I didn’t give my statement to the police!” You exclaimed.

He tutted, wagging his finger at you. “No, but you did write an article. You’re lucky I was here before it got published.”

You frowned. “How- how did you know about the article? I wrote it yesterday, I gave it to the editor at the last moment-”

“I have eyes everywhere, Y/n.” He smirked, leaning down to whisper. “Especially on you, naughty kitten.”

Henry chuckled as he looked at your flushed face, mistaking your anger for bashfulness. He walked out of the door but not before passing another comment to tick you off.

“Nice moustache. Or shall I say… whiskers, kitten?”

-

For the next 3 days, you didn’t leave the house. You didn’t even leave your room. It seemed like all your previous pettiness-driven motivation had run out and dropped you into the well of depression. And here you wallowed in your sadness, taking Silas’s bed even when he was away and looking like a pitiful lump of sadness under the covers.

“What is wrong with you?” Silas asked, exasperated as he sat down on the bed to tie his shoes. “How long will this go on? You have missed your ballet classes and you are worrying grandmother.”

“I’m just sleepy, okay?” You mumbled from under the sheets. “Its not like sleeping on the cold, hard floor is helping me.”

“And it seems like sleeping in my bed hasn’t helped either.” He raised a brow. “Its been 3 days already. This has gone long enough. Now you can either tell me what is wrong or I will have Cadbury drag you out and hose you down in the gardens.”

You shoved the covers down to glare at him. Asshole. You don’t doubt that he would have his butler hose you down.

“I miss… I miss my brother.” You mumbled as you averted your eyes. “Qasim would fix everything for me. He always had a solution, always. And I- I need him right now. To guide me, to handle things for me.”

“So… why don’t you ask for his help?” Silas asked, fixing his tie.

You stared at his back before looking down at your lap. “We’re not on speaking terms… I’m mad at him.”

Silas rolled his eyes. “Well he’s your family, isn’t he? I’m sure you can still talk to him.”

“Cant.” You muttered gloomily, making Silas’s annoyance trigger off.

“And why the bloody hell not?” He turned to glare at you. “You cant get out of my bed! You cant attend work! You cant take your classes! You cant tell me what’s bothering you! And you cant talk to your own brother! Why!? Why?! WHY?!”

You flinched at his harsh town before tears filled your eyes.

“Because… he’s dead.”

Your statement rung in Silas’s ears like a daunting bell. Dead. Dead. Dead.

God, did he feel like shit now.

You threw the covers off you, getting out of bed as you fixed his sheets.

“Sorry for hogging your bed.” You sniffled, using your sleeve to wipe your tears as you walked past him, only for Silas to catch your wrist. With a gentle tug, he had you sitting back down on the bed.

“I’m sorry.” He said, sincerely. “I was just… frustrated due to things at work. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Its fine, whatever. You’re right, I’ll go to work and classes-” He tightened his grip on your wrist when you tried to leave.

“No.” He tilted your chin towards him. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong. I may not be your brother, but I am your husband.”

You stared at him conflicted. Did he really mean it?

He answered your silent question with a gentle squeeze of your hand. “I will fix your problems, Y/n.” He offered a smile. “Your duke is at your service.”

-

After you told Silas your work situation with Henry and how he’s stopping you from writing anything about Jack the Ripper, how you cant get anything done with his shadow looming over you and monitoring everything you do, Silas explained that solution to it was all simple.

“I will buy the paper from Henry.” He stated nonchalantly, as if he was talking about buying eggs not a newspaper company.

“I dont think he will give you the company. He wont put it up for sale-”

“Everything is for sale, Y/n. You just need to find the right price.” He stood up, assuring you he will buy the company. “I’ll get the company, if you promise to put on a great show. You focus on the ballet classes. After all, the show is only a week from now.”

The following seven days were filled with you doing ballet for hours and hours, all with one motivation.

Not to let Silas down.

Because if I let him down, if I embarrass him, then he wont get the paper from Henry. And I wont be able to find Jack the Ripper or help Colin with the asylum! And Silas will lose trust in me and wont let me have my space at the Westminster palace or wherever so that I can work on my time machine-

Time machine! You face palmed. I’ve been so busy with the murders and shitty men that I forgot to build my machine! My way home!

No, after the show, I’m- I’m demanding- I’m moving out. I don’t care if I get the paper or not, I need to build my machine.

“Oh Y/n, what are you doing in the storage- honey, are you alright? You look like you’re about to pass out! Cadbury! Hurry and open the windows!” Sarah guided you out of the dusty store to sit down, fanning you with her hands. “Oh dear, do you hate confined spaces like Silas too?”

You took deep breaths as fresh air flooded in through the windows, furrowing your brows. “What?”

“Nothing dear, I just thought you felt suffocated in closed spaces, like Silas!” She explained. “He cant stay in a room with closed windows for too long, you know.”

Now that she mentions it, she’s right. You don’t remember Silas being in a room without at least a window open, even as winter rolled around. Hell, he still opens the balcony windows in the bedroom as soon as he wakes up, but you thought that was because he hated your guts and wanted to give you an early wake up call by letting the cold air slap your face and rattle your bones.

“Why does he hate confined spaces?” You ask, letting her loosen your corset.

Sarah looked a little hesitant to tell you, but then relented when you asked her again. “He never told me the reason, but I figured it was the night when his mother passed away. Silas… he was just a young boy, he was hiding in his closet. He liked to scare his mother when she came to check on him, and so he often hid in the closet to give her a fright. He saw his mother get murdered while he was in the closet.” She looked down sadly. “Unfortunately, the killer’s identity was hidden by the dark night. Silas wasn’t able to identify who killed his mother, and I suppose he’s blamed himself a little for that incident.”

Damn. Thats… dark. And sad.

Maybe I can excuse Silas for being rude to me at times. Maybe. Just a tad.

The night of the ballet show rolled around quicker than you’d expected. And despite all the hours of practice and Sarah’s countless assurances that you’d be amazing, you knew the reality.

Your performance was barely passable.

From a young age, you were able to critique yourself very well. As Qasim said- “Only you know yourself the best!” And you knew right now, as you stood backstage, peeking through the curtains at the audience and spotting the queen and her family, you were utterly, truly set up for failure.

NO ONE CAN LEARN BALLET IN 2 MONTHS! AT LEAST NOT ENOUGH TO IMPRESS THE QUEEN!

Your stomach churned, you felt bile rise up your throat, your legs wobbled as you backed away from the curtain, stumbling away, right into Silas’s arms.

“Silas- Silas, I cant do this! I can’t! I can’t!” You cried out and Silas tightened his grip on your arms.

“Okay.”

Okay?

“What?”

“Okay. You cant do it.” He squeezes your shoulders. “I guess I’ll just tell everyone to go home. I’ll apologise to the queen and make up an excuse as to why she wont be seeing a performance by my wife tonight. But hey, she’s family. She’ll understand, right?”

You stared at him in confusion. Silas ran a hand through his fingers. “As for all the journalist who came here to write about you, and all the influential people I’ve invited over because this was your formal introduction into high society, I guess I’ll just have to make something up. But you-“ he gave you a warm smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “-you don’t worry your pretty little head over this. Its okay, I… well, if I’m being honest, I never really expected you to perform.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I knew you’d back out at the last second. Oh well, what can we do. Now-” he rubbed his chin in thought. “Should I tell the guests that you’ve broken your leg? Or perhaps you cant perform because you’re with child? If we go with the first excuse, people may call you a ditz, maybe unprofessional. And they might come to check on you. But if we go with the second excuse, people will talk about- well, it has been only a month into our marriage-”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Is he… did he set you up?

“You expected me to not perform?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No, Y/n. I expected you to fail to deliver what I require of you. I expected you to perform in front of an audience, and that was all I asked. I didn’t ask you to become a prima donna, I just wanted you to be good enough. Which you are in my opinion. But your doubt in yourself right now is only because you clearly haven’t spent enough time practising because you were too busy running around town, going to clubs and asylums and chasing after a murderer when all of your attention should’ve been on becoming a competent wife!” Silas fumed, tightening his grip on your shoulders. “I asked you again and again to focus on the ballet lessons, and you ignored my advice repeatedly and for what? Because you wanted to prove yourself? Because you wanted to play detective and solve murders? When you cant even do a simple job as putting on a show? And I knew- I knew you would abandon me like this, so you know what, Y/n? While I keep my end of the bargain, while I invited Henry tonight to talk him into selling the paper to me, you continue to let me down. So go on stage or don’t, I really don’t give a shit now. I can’t take your word ever again.”

Silas stormed off, leaving you shell shocked backstage. You sat down on the steps, trying to control your breathing. How could he- how can he say all that to you?

Does he not understand the pressure you’re under? Does he not understand how hard all of this is for you?

You really thought that after you told him about Qasim, after he assured he that he would help you out, that he would fix your problems-

I thought he understood. I thought he had my back.

You let out a shaky exhale, rubbing your chest to ease your ache. Why is it so hard to breathe all of a second?

Tonight, you didn’t invite Colin or Benny or any of the boys, and it only hit you now how truly lonely you were. There’s no Colin. No Benny. No friends. No family. No Qasim. No… Silas.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you alright?” Cadbury looked alarmed as he spotted you looking shell shocked, struggling to breathe.

“I… I cant-” You couldn’t speak, and the butler quickly took your nervous, trembling form in and sprung into action.

“Here, duchess- ma’am, drink this.” He brought you a cup of tea. “It’ll calm the nerves, ma’am. Drink it.”

You let the bitter, warm liquid slide down your throat without a second thought.

“You’ll be alright now, ma’am. You’ll be all… right.” The butler assured you kindly, helping you stand up. In just a matter of seconds, your anxiety had melted away and was replaced with… unbridled confidence.

“What did I just drink?” The words slipped out as you felt your heart beat faster. Your eyes snapped towards Cadbury. “What did you give me?” The words came out quickly.

“Nothing special. Its just tea to calm you.” He said, ushering you up the steps towards the stage curtains. “Are you ready now, ma’am?”

Your eyes zeroed in on the white particles on his collar. Like powder.

“Is that snow?” If you weren’t so hyper focused on his collar, it would concern you how fast you were talking. “Is it snowing outside already?”

Cadbury looked down on his collar and suppressed a smile. “Yes, duchess. You could say that. Now- please return your attention to your performance. We are all rooting for you.”

“Not Silas.” You snapped again, your eyes looking at the dark curtains as you take your position. “Not that twat.”

Cadbury’s brows shot up in shock. “Ma’am-”

“I’ll show that twat.” And then the curtains opened.

-

Silas sat down in his seat with a satisfied sigh. Everything is going according to plan. You’re nervous and he just chewed you out so the stage will now be empty because you’ve ran off to cry a river, the royal family will once again be embarrassed as they happily welcomed Silas and his Muslim wife into the family (by making them the duke and duchess) and with all the journalists he invited, the news will now spread like wildfire that Silas rejected a princess, Queen Victoria’s daughter to marry an embarrasment.

The princess was one upped by a fool. A commoner. A failed ballerina.

Did Silas feel bad for you? Just a little, because he didnt like the way you looked at him, hoping for support, maybe even motivation, only for him to break your heart. Broken hearts can be mended, but broken reputations? Nope.

Besides, he’s sure that when he buys the company from Henry and give it to you, you’ll forget all about it! Everything will work out just as he’d planned-

What the hell?

The curtain opened and instead of being met with an empty stage like he’d planned, there you stood in your white tutu skirt, face completely devoid of any expression.

What are you doing?

The pianist began playing a tune he didn’t recognise. Sarah did tell him that of the three songs you had chosen, there was one she hadn’t heard ever before. You’d worked with the pianist to get the tune right, and at that time, he was impressed at how much work you were putting into this.

As the music played, you began dancing. From what his grandmother had told him, he was expecting soft, gentle, shy dance.

And yet you were doing anything but that. Your movements were strong, powerful, determined. You were nothing like the woman whose hope he’d crushed just moments ago. You were all alone on that big stage, but you practically leaped from one side of the stage to the other, your legs faster than lightening.

By no means did you look like a mess, or that you didn’t know what your were doing. Your eyes were wide open, as if hyper aware of your surroundings and your audience. From beside him, Silas could hear his grandmother whispering the choreography.

“En pointe. En pointe. En pointe.” You were now dancing on the tip of your toes, and Silas could only imagine how painful, if not destructive this could be to your feet.

“Tendu. Chaine turn. Chaine turn. Pique manege.” Now, you were moving across the stage while making turns.

And finally, the big ending. “Pirouette. Pirouette. Keep spotting, Y/n. Pirouette.” Silas knew about the pirouettes. He watched you spin around your own axis, in a fixed position on a ground, your body moving first, your head later, your eyes focused on a spot in the dark so that you don’t lose your balance. You turned- 1,2,3, he lost count because you were turning too fast.

“34- was that 34 turns, Silas?”

Thirty four? Thirty four pirouettes?!

The performance ended with fouetté turns, which according to Sarah were about 28 and you exited the stage dancing en pointe, on the tip of your toes.

The ballet hall erupted in applause and cheers, and Silas stood up with everyone else to give a standing ovation to a now empty stage.

What the hell just happened?

-

Its hot. Its hot. I’m burning up!

As soon as you were off stage, of which you have no memory of your performance, you almost fell to the ground if it weren’t for strong arms catching you. And the moment your eyes caught sight of the broad shoulders, you instantly pushed yourself away, throwing yourself against the wall to support yourself.

“Careful there, love.” Henry grinned, clapping his hands in mocking manner. “That was quite the performance you gave, kitten. I’m very impressed.”

“What are you doing here?” You spat out, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. He tilted his head, amused at the sight of your flushed cheeks. “Silas invited me. He wanted to discuss business. I wonder if the little kitten went to her owner for help because she couldn’t scratch me with her tiny paws?”

“Owner?” You heaved a shaky breath. His smirk widened. “What else would you name it? He bought you to be his wife, because you know and I know that there isn’t and there never will be love between you two. He’s just using you. So drop the charade and come to me-” Henry caught your wrist before you could slap him, and while he may have stopped your physical assault, he wasn’t able to stop your verbal one.

“What would you know about love? You’re here, pursuing a married woman who has insulted you from the very first moment. Those skanks at your disgusting club have more self esteem than you do right now. You’re fucking pathetic and I’d rather eat a cactus and shit it out before I marry an entitled, emasculated prick like you. Fuck off!” You shoved him away and stormed out of there, unaware of just how much Henry wanted to wring your neck (just for a moment) and how a certain someone had overheard this little spat.

And he smiled proudly.

Good job, Y/n. He thought to himself.

-

“Fuck!” You screamed as you burst through the doors and landed out in the gardens, falling to the snowy ground, letting the ice cool your burning temperature.

How the hell am I burning up when its literally snowing?!

You grabbed a fistful of snow and threw it to your face, trying to cool down your body temperature. When that didnt work, you dove face first into the ground, before flipping on your back, letting the snow engulf your body from all sides. Your ballerina costume was thin and sheer as it could be, finally allowing the cold to creep into your skin and slowly into your bones.

Now that the adrenaline rush and whatever the hell was in that tea wore off, your body immediately went into fatigue and became aware of all the aches in your body, especially the pain in your feet. You tried to move, but your muscles didn’t budge. They were tired out, strained beyond their limits.

The cold suddenly became too unbearable and your teeth rattled. You tried to lift your head, tried to yell for help but it was like your mind had suddenly went autopilot and decided to shut down to let your body recover from its fatigue.

“No…” You whispered, as tears slipped out of your eyes. Everyone was inside, the party was loud, no one would even hear you scream for help even if you tried, no one would come to your aid. The realisation that you would freeze to death had you panicking, but alas, your brain refused to cooperate with you.

You heard the sound of footsteps and a glimmer of hope rose in you. Turning your head to the side took the last bit of energy, and your brain put you out of your misery when you saw the daunting shadowy figure that imprinted itself in your mind from the night of the murder.

The cloak, the top hat, a golden ring on his hand and the shiny glint of the knife.

The Ripper is here.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream before you blacked out.

So??? Thoughts??? Also nobody @ me for not putting a "keep reading" button because I had to edit 12k words TWICE on mobile, I have pulled an all nighters for yall. I have to go to clinic in loke 2 hours.

Yall better send comment and send ask.

Part 14 is here!

[clare-875]

OMG, Hey, I'm new to this blog. I just read the "New Names" fic you recently wrote. Since Shanks is my favorite character, can you do one of him with the reader?

New Names pt.2 (Shanks, Sabo, Crocodile)

_____ Pairings: Shanks x Reader; Sabo x Reader; Crocodile x Reader Summary: His reaction when you call him buddy, pal, etc. Warnings: Mostly fluff, Slightly suggestive, Female Reader A/N: I decided to add some characters! I hope you like it! <3 [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 1: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law] [Part 3: Corazon, Killer, Mihawk, Penguin] [Part 4: Kid, Katakuri, Smoker] _____

- Shanks -

(A/N: Slightly longer fic than the others <3)

You sigh as your crewmates look at you with shit-eating grins on their faces. "A deal's a deal [y/n]," Yassop tells you, leaning back smugly as you regrettably accept defeat. You had been playing a game of cards, but this time the only thing on the line was the loser having had to do one thing that the winner pleads. Yassop had (unfortunately for you) won, and he wanted to mess with his Captain through you. "Come on, is it the worst thing I could've asked you to do?" You roll your eyes.

"Fine, I'll do it."

You instantly hear the uproar of cheers from around you and smile despite yourself. The crew must really be bored to find such keen interest in such a little prank. But you would be lying to say you also weren't intrigued about your boyfriend's reaction. You get up from your chair and the crew looks on, amusement lingering in their gazes. Luckily for you, as soon as you stand, Shanks makes his way onto the deck. His eyes shine as soon as he sees you approach.

"Hey, love." He grins wide, beckoning you over.

You teasingly smile, but instead of running into him as you usually do, you pat him on the shoulder and walk past him.

"Hey dude, I'll see you in a minute. I've just got to talk to Benn about something."

You walk off, going to find the second-in-charge whilst trying to stifle your laughter. It's as though instantly you broke the man.

"Wait what-"

Shanks reaches for you but you are already gone. His grin fades and his form goes rigid, it's as though the renowned empower was reduced to something like a child just by your mere words. He looks as though he's seen a ghost.

"What did I do?"

He turns to his crewmates who look on, trying to stifle the laughs that threaten to break free. But ultimately they are able to play dumb.

"Don't ask us, Captain."

The rest of the day, Shanks is at your heels following you, talking to you, trying to figure out if he had done something wrong. But it is either you were truly indifferent or you were great at acting because, despite the name you call him, you hadn't changed. You still looked at him lovingly and happily returned conversation, but that only made the red-haired captain more frustrated.

"It's okay dude, I've got it."

"I'm doing great dude, how are you doing?"

"Hey, dude, mind passing me that?"

It drives your Captain insane.

You only break when night falls, and finally, Yassop's word means nothing as the day has passed. You were lying in bed next to your boyfriend and you could feel his burning stare on you. You turn, and sure enough, your Captain looks at you intently, a crease between his brow.

"What is it?" You say, an amused tone lingering beneath your words. Shanks looks as though he is almost pouting and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the childish display of sadness placed right in front of you.

"Love, did I do something wrong today?"

You tilt your head to the side as the red-haired man in front of you finally spills the words he has been holding onto all day.

"You kept calling me dude."

You try to hold your facade, but light laughter falls from your lips, and it only causes the crease between Shank's eyebrows to deepen. A frown lingered on his face.

"Love," you say, and you instantly see the way his irises enlighten even in the darkness of the room. "It was a prank. I lost a bet with Yassop, I'm sorry." You smile sheepishly and your Captain looks dumbfounded as he stares at you blankly. But you yelp as he suddenly pulls you into his side. When you look up he is staring at you with a burning intensity.

"So you're saying I suffered all day, because of a stupid bet?"

You nervously look to your Captain and mutter a small yes. You swear you capture a glimpse of a relieved smile, but he takes you aback as soon, his lips capture yours.

"You'll pay for that princess."

He murmurs to you teasingly and you laugh before he kisses you once more, warmth igniting within you. His hands are in your hair as your lips move against his more fervently, your touch travels among his bare skin.

"Sure, dude." You mutter.

You can hear Shanks growl lowly in your ear at your response.

- Sabo -

It was a normal day at the Revolutionary Army's base and Sabo hadn't a care in the world. Or at least that's what he thought. Unbeknownst to him, however, were you and Koala planning to make the most of a rare, quiet day. And by making the most of it, you meant ruining Sabo's peace. You were sick of him hanging up on you prematurely and ignoring you when he got too engrossed in a mission.

You both wanted to get him back.

"Come on, [y/n], here he comes!" Koala all but pushes you in the direction of your boyfriend, as she holds a hand to her mouth to stop her giggles. You roll your eyes but wink in her direction, hiding your own grin as you approach. It was just a small prank, after all, nothing to worry about. As you get closer, Sabo looks up from a map he was observing and he smiles at you.

"Love! Take a look, it's for the next mission Dragon-san set us."

You smile softly at his devotion but continue on your secret task at hand; you know Koala is somewhere still watching.

"Looks cool, man. Have you gotten far with the planning yet?"

Sabo is about to reply, but he suddenly freezes when the words you say click in his mind. You stifle a grin, as you watch his eyebrows furrow together and his lips downturn. He gazes at you, but instead of the loving stare you had just seen, all you see is confusion and slight worry.

"Love, is something wrong?"

You smile softly trying not to let it turn into a grin.

"No, of course not... man."

Sabo freezes once more in disdain at the choice of your words. His keen eyes seem to travel yours looking for answers, and you can see his increasing frustration when he finds none. However, he seems to stop when he sees something behind you.

"What-,"

You hear a squeak and you know that it is a Koala, most likely spotted by your boyfriend. You see his lips quirk upwards slightly. Trying to keep up a facade you try to save it by interrupting him.

"Anyway, we should really be getting back to the-"

But your boyfriend seems to have caught onto the game you both were playing and he leans into you teasingly.

"Really, love? Why is Koala hiding behind the wall over there?"

"I don't see anyone." You say as you try to play dumb, but the grin on Sabo's face only widens. Your smile on the other hand wavers and it slowly turns to a pout as you realise he has caught on so quickly.

You turn your face away from your boyfriend defiantly but Sabo is quick to reach out and keep you facing him. You look so pretty to him, even when you're upset. Sabo lets out a low chuckle, but when you meet his eyes you are surprised to see the adoration and relief etched within.

"You know, love. If you wanted attention, you could've just asked."

He leans forward and kisses your pouting lips until he feels them upturn against his once more.

- Crocodile -

As you wait in your shared chambers after lord knows how long, your bored mind starts to wander. You come up with an idea that may not be a good idea in the face of a former warlord of the sea, but you already find yourself convinced. Crocodile had been busy the past weeks and you had barely seen him. You missed him but it also made you petty.

You find yourself hiding a grin when your stoic boyfriend makes his way into the room. He seems tired and smoke still blows from the cigar in his mouth. You stand instantly, giving him a kind smile and you momentarily see his eyes soften at the sight of you. You gently pry the jacket from his broad shoulders and hang it up on the wall.

"Evening, love."

His words are murmured lowly in your ear as he walks past. Your heart thrums faster in your chest, but you decide to go through with your little game anyway.

"Evening, pal. How was your day?"

Your words are softly spoken and soothe Crocodile's raging mind after a strenuous day. However, as soon as he picks up the change in the name you call him, irritation brims, causing his eyes to sharpen when he turns to you.

"What was that?"

Your boyfriend's voice is anything but even. It takes on a deadly edge but you know that despite his tenacious nature, he wouldn't exactly do anything to you for a small prank. Or at least that's what you thought, and so you continued.

"What was what, pal?"

You have to fight a grin at the decomposition of your boyfriend's usually sure facade. But soon, the smile on your face fades and in its place anticipation thrums through you. Your boyfriend is suddenly hovering in front of you, a hand placed surprisingly gently under your chin and forcing you to look at him.

"Don't start now, love." He growls lowly into your ear, and your heart picks up pace from the sudden proximity. You feel yourself falter, but you are determined to see your little plan through.

"What are you talking about, pal?"

If it weren't for the intensity in his stare, you would've laughed at the almost comical name you called such a serious individual. However, Crocodile seems to have had a long day, and now as his beloved seems to want to play games, the day seems scarcely over; punishment is in order.

"I think it's time you remember, exactly who you're calling pal."

You let out a gasp as he hoists you over his shoulder, and you struggle only for a minute before giving in.

You should've known that messing with Crocodile would come with consequences.

[moonstruckme]

please give us another part of gentleman Steve!!! So so sweet I need to see what happens when they confess their feelings for each other or he asks her out on a date !! I can picture him making a big deal out of “doing it properly” - getting her favourite flowers and asking her out super formally

I'm glad you liked it angel! Thanks for requesting <3

part 1

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Whoa.” You raise your eyebrows as Steve comes around to open your car door, though you’ve already opened it partway yourself. “Chivalrous.” 

Steve rolls his eyes but can’t suppress a smile. You can tease him all you want. He is feeling very fucking chivalrous tonight, and proud of it. 

You’re getting the entire first date experience. Steve picked you up at your house, rang the doorbell and everything—a notable improvement from his teenage self, who would’ve just honked. Your sweet little gasp at the bunch of flowers in his hand confirmed that he’d remembered correctly; azaleas are your favorite. You acted shy and flustered, and Steve had been gallant and as charming as he could manage given how pretty you looked. (You’d think he’d be used to you by now, but no. It seems like he might never stop being bowled over by you.) He’s taken you to dinner—where you argued vehemently against him paying the bill—and now a to movie. 

If he’s lucky, Steve hopes you’ll let him drag you out for ice cream after this, or else sit in his car parked in front of your house and keep talking for a while. You can spend a whole day together, and Steve still won’t want to let you go at the end of it. 

He’s too chicken to put his arm around you as you walk into the theater. He can’t remember ever being this nervous on a date before. Steve wonders if he didn’t really care on all the previous ones, or if it’s just that he cares so much more now, but the difference is palpable. His stomach is in knots. He’s very conscious of his hair, which he’d spent time on before coming to get you only to have you mess it up with a fluff of your hand and a you look nice tonight, Stevie. As you approach the concessions, you’re the brave one, taking Steve’s hand to pull him towards the line you deem shortest. 

“What’re you gonna get?” you ask him. 

“I don’t know.” Steve’s heartbroken when you drop his hand, but he tries to put on a brave face. “What’re you thinking?” 

You nibble your lip. Steve feels like his insides are under attack. “I’m thinking…I can’t decide between something chocolatey and something not. Would you wanna split?” 

“Sure,” he says thoughtlessly. Your lip comes free, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t collapse with relief. “But I want junior mints.” 

You wrinkle your nose, laughing. “You’re fucking sick. Junior mints?” 

“Hey, a lot of girls have approved of my choice of junior mints,” Steve says, then wants to die. Jesus Christ. He could not have said anything dumber. 

Not only to lump you in with all the other girls he’s gone out with, but—he has no idea if you’ll be kissing later. He doesn’t want you to think that he cares, or that he’s thinking about it, even if obviously he’s going to be thinking about it. Steve doesn’t know if you’re the type to kiss on the first date. It’s a weird thing to think about, because he knows you. Steve feels like he knows you inside and out, better than almost anybody, but he has no clue what you’re like on a date.

“Well, maybe you just attract sick freaks who like toothpaste-flavored candy.” You shoot him a sideways look, teasing. “Forget splitting, though. I’ll get my own.” 

“More for me.” Steve shrugs. 

At the counter, you fall into the same argument you had at dinner. 

“Stop,” you laugh, trying doggedly to hold your money out to the cashier while Steve blocks you and counts out his own cash. You’re surprisingly strong when you want to be, but not strong enough to move him. “Steve! This isn’t fair.” 

He can’t help laughing a little with you. “Just leave it.” 

“No! You got dinner, it’s my turn.” 

“I’m getting both.” 

“Since when?” You start trying to reach over him, pleading all the while with the cashier to ignore Steve’s money and take yours. You’re acting crazy; it probably makes Steve even crazier that he finds it cute. 

Steve pays. You’re still fighting with him about it as you walk up the stairs in your theater, looking for seats. Steve starts towards the back of the room, but you shoot him a confused look, detouring towards your normal seats in the middle row instead. Again, he wants to hit himself. 

“This is misogyny,” you whisper as you make your way down the row. “What, you think I have to let you pay for everything just because you’re a guy?” 

“I’m paying because I’m the one who asked you out,” he says. “Not because I’m a guy.” 

You stop. Steve thinks you mean to sit down here—it’s not nearly as centered in the row as you usually like to be, but whatever—but when he starts to lower himself into a seat you grab the front of his shirt, keeping him where he is. 

“Steve,” you say, the shifting colors of some ad casting themselves over your face, “is this a date?” 

Steve’s heart falls through his stomach. 

“I—shit. Isn’t it?” he asks, breathless. He feels like he’s had the air knocked out of him. 

For a stretch of seconds, you only look at him. Your mouth tightens and parts; your brows twitch closer together; your tongue pokes into your cheek. Then you say, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Steve echoes dumbly. 

“Yeah. I mean…” You shrug, doing that thing where you smile with just a little bit of your mouth and a lot of your eyes that landed Steve with this godforsaken crush in the first place. “It’s nice. I’m glad we’re on a date, I just wasn’t expecting it. But I’m happy.” 

“But you didn’t know,” Steve says. You shake your head. “How did you not know? I asked you if you wanted to go to dinner and a movie on a Friday night.” 

You look at him like he’s lost it. “I thought we were just going to dinner and a movie. We get food and watch movies all the time, don’t we?” 

“Yeah, but not together. Like, dinner and a movie is a thing. It’s a known thing.” 

You appear dubious of this. Steve lets out an appalled breath, sinking down into his seat. 

“What about the flowers? And I picked you up at your front door. When have we ever done that?” 

“I thought you just felt like being extra nice.” You sit down next to him, getting situated with your drink in the cupholder and the popcorn in your lap. “You’re kind of moody, you know.” 

“I am not,” he grumbles. 

“You so are.” You laugh, eyes twinkly in the low light. It softens Steve some. You look at him, and your expression does that shifting thing again, like you can’t quite decide how to feel. “Hey, are you mad at me?” 

“No.” 

“Really?” 

“No, I’m not mad.” Steve reaches an arm around your shoulders, rewarded when you lean into him comfortably. He does mean it; he’s a bit indignant that all of his romantic efforts went unnoticed, but at least you’re here. You’re here, and you’re happy to be on a date with him. Now that you know you’re on one. 

It’s a few moments of easy silence like that before you sit up abruptly. “Oh. Were you trying to go to the back row? Like, as a date thing?” 

Steve’s face flushes hot. He’s grateful for the darkened room. “No.” 

“No, you were right.” You start picking up your snacks, standing from your seat. “Let’s move.”

[litsenn]

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how Astarion would handle such new things as tenderness and care.

(Also sorry, since I'm exploring EA, I deleted all my previous playthroughs and can't make new screenshots to illustrate this post; So I'll use old screenshots/gifs + the datamined dialogues)

It’s clear to me that in act 1 and for most of act 2, it’s not part of who he is.

He doesn’t even pretend to care for anyone, except for himself. Yet, there are only a very few instances which indicate that something is moving inside him and that there is a growing sense of concern and eventually affection (for you and your companions). The first that comes to mind is when you refuse to sleep with him the second times he asks.

Or when you learn about Mystra asking Gale to sacrifice himself; Astarion seems to genuinely care, even though he immediately deflates it with irony.

(the last one is from Origin Gale)

Or even in the creche, if you use the zaith'isk.

There are probably a few other instances showing that he begins to care about you and your companions, but he’s still his own prioprity and you can’t really blame him for that; It actually makes a lot of sense, since we all know that no one had ever cared about him before.

Besides when he dared to care about someone else (the sweet boy he tried to save from Cazador, for instance), he was terribly punished for it.

So yes, in Act 1, he doesn’t want to be a hero, and he won't sacrifice himself for others. And he seems to associate being kind and showing sympathy as a form of danger/weakness. His bias make him believe that being kind would probably make him look "too precious", a vulnerability which was mocked/punished by Cazador and probably his siblings (I talked about it at the beginning of this post)

And what’s interesting is that the selfless, uncaring aspects of his personality already coexist with a genuine will to connect with people; He’s not pushing you or your companions away (unless you treat him like shit, of course) – he shows interest in you, in them, but he doesn’t want to get too much involved. Which again, makes perfect sense to me. He's self-centred but he doesn’t want to be alone, he reaches out, but he doesn’t want to get too close either, because

that would be too dangerous (trust issues included)

2. he wants to remain in control of you, of his own feelings

3. he doesn’t really expect anything from anyone.

Astarion doesn’t pretend to be selfless, and he doesn’t pretend to be caring. He’s used to violence and he himself is rough around the edges because of the violent environment in which he’s been evolving for so long. Which can make him difficult to like when you meet him for the first time. He's not gentle. And I like it, it's very good writing, spitting in the face of the 'perfect victim trope'.

Gentleness and tenderness are alien concepts to Astarion. Even if we consider the few gentle target-lovers - like Sebastian - he might have met during those 200 years, I don’t think that would be enough for him to give into gentle love-making.

Dissociation is easier, with mechanical responses to his 'lovers' - be they violent or not, especially since he knew they were doomed anyway. And if most of them were rascals so, better get used to violence and reproduce it to better protect himself.

I can’t imagine the first nights with Astarion in act 1 being particularly tender, and if they were, I’d tend to imagine that Astarion was performing. After all, there’s no cuddle in the morning, he won’t give into that kind of gentleness because he associates it to 'vulnerability', and it makes sense.

I can imagine a few cuddling nights in act 2, but I think it would be quite exceptional, and would never last long if only because Astarion isn’t used to that kind of intimacy and might quickly feel quite uncomfortable with it.

Still, it could happen. And he probably starts to enjoy it at this point. But he needs time. He needs more assurance.

As for support and care, he's capable of it in Act 2 - it shows in the Durge scene for instance, when he explicitly says "you will get through it. I'll be there to make sure you do."

On the other hand, he's still his old harsh self too in Act 2, sometimes cruel, accepting the darkest choices the PC can make.

Also, the way he talks to you if you don’t get the confession scene by the beginning of act 3 is revealing in terms of how harsh he can be even with people he trust(ed).

But with the confession scene, something entirely new and genuinely softer emerges, not just in his words, but also in his body language; the way he holds your hand is most explicit.

But if you choose the hug, it's even clearer.

Obviously, this episode doesn’t instantly change him and turn him into the sweetest partner ever. His kisses are gentle yes, but it's no peak of tenderness. Not only because he’s not ready for being 100% soft and vulnerable, but also because he doesn’t know how to. Tenderness is uncharted territory, and intimacy is way too appalling for him to give into that kind of open fondness (yet).

Things begin to change a little in act 3, but again, it takes time. He's capable of showing care, support and affection. He can be vulnerable with you when you show your trust. He wants to be there for you, to be real with you.

...but that's not the main aspect of his personality. He hasn't completely changed overnight.

After the meeting with Petras and Dal he returns to his old patterns of manipulation and pretended indifference. I says "pretended" because it's easier for him to think he doesn't care - it's coping mechanism. One could even say that he's gaslighting himself into believing that he doesn't give a fuck about his siblings as long as he can ensure his own safety.

Desperate situations call for drastic remedies, right? But is it what he really wants? (I'm not saying that he secretly adore his siblings, but I still believe that he's capable of feeling some empathy for them - he feels 'pity' for them, and it's made clearer later.)

His issues with his siblings is that it reminds too much of who he used to be, and the risks of being like them again:; controlled by Cazador. So he plays indifference and bitterness, to keep all those feelings away.

Likewise, when the spawns attack your camp, he’s distant again – a defence mechanism triggered by the presence of his siblings.

(My two cents on this line here)

And yet, we can already see a few changes in his behaviour after you reached Baldur's Gate; he's much more prompt to openly show genuine concern and support to you, when you consider taking Araj’s potion, for instance.

Or the way he worries about you if you accept Haarlep’s deal:

But that's because it's you. And in spite of this, the selfish and cruel parts of him still exist, because it's his personality and that won't disappear. Funny what he says here of you have low approval by the way:

If you're not close friends, he doesn't actually care, but still warns you. Interesting.

Anyway, if you're his partner, he can explicitly show in public how much he cares about you. And to a lesser extent, he also cares about your companions, especially when he can relate to what happens to them.

The first signs of a growing empathy for others. It's not just about himself anymore.

As for tenderness, it’s also growing little by little. First, through words...

...but probably in gestures too. Of course, this point relies on headcanons because the game doesn’t give us much before the graveyard scene. But I tend to believe that Astarion is progressively learning tenderness (in private settings) throughout the third act. I like to imagine both my Durge and Astarion learning about gentle gestures together; holding hands, a kiss that lasts a little longer than usual, a look that leads to a quiet hug, restinig in each other’s arms, etc.

Just like in Act 2, I don’t think they would cuddle every night. I believe that kind of intimacy would progressively take place in their relationship. But before Cazador’s death, I can’t imagine them being constantly et overly tender together (but that's a headcanon).

Now the graveyard scene marks a shift. Again, he’s not overly sweet or dripping with tenderness during the discussion. He’s tranquil. He’s at peace. He doesn’t need to perform any grand declaration. But the gentle way he takes your hands, the way he tells you he wants you, he loves you.... The  gentle lovemaking. All of this seems to indicate a slow shift; he’s still learning, still discovering affection and gentleness, it's a reappropriation of his own intimacy, and he can do it freely now that Cazador is gone.

Baby steps.

Of course, even then, it’s not always easy to express that soft side in public – it’s all so new, there still must be a part of him that feels quite vulnerable about it. So he jokes, it's easier, safer.

And yet, he can do it, he can publicly show his attraction and love for his partner.

And he can even admit how good it feels to love and be loved - but again, he can't help jesting a little, just to look less vulnerable.

It takes time to get used to it, to learn how to enjoy gentleness and care, to learn how to show gentleness and care. It can be terrifying, destabilizing, and confusing. But I want to believe that Astarion and his partner will find their own love language through gestures and words. Maybe there will always be some kind of reserve in public, understandably. But by the epilogue, with that sweet hug, it's clear that he’s comfortable showing genuine affection in public.

And in the epilogue he feels bad for your companions who aren’t as free as you are, even if he doesn’t feel like talking to them.

Likewise, he’s genuinely happy for them and for the both of you if everything turned out well for everyone.

I could mention many other instances from the non-romanced epilogue that show how much Radiant Astarion cares about the companions.

And yet, as he says himself, darkness is part of him, and violence is still part of his life. He has not become an innocent puppy, he can still be cruel and violent, and he enjoys it.

And I tend to believe that Astarion is not the romantic type like Wyll or Gale, and that his demonstration of love and affection remain quite simple, quiet, even more meaningful in their temperance. Radiant Astarion, although capable of gentleness, remains someone who can also be harsh, with sharp remarks, sometimes hiding his vulnerabilities behind blunt irony. He has discarded the mask of the suave and charming lover and allowed himself to be true to his own personality, and I don't think the latter is the romantic, super kind type. I like my radiant Astarion caustic, sly and feral, while still being able to love and be loved by the few persons he trusts.

And that’s what I love about this character! The nuances, the subtleties of his narrative arc and of his personality, the way he learns and discovers himself and the gentle beauty of genuine love and affection without becoming an entirely different person. Even if he learns to care about others, he will still choose his own safety and sanity over others, he will not sacrifice himself. He's not that kind of hero.

But if you tell him how much he means to you, how much you care, he will support you and show his love and trust in you.

Of course, healing isn’t linear. There will be days during which being empathetic and caring and gentle might seem impossible to him. Some days he might be distant, and maybe even harsh. And it’s normal, not just because he’s healing but also because there is something selfish and violent in him. That’s the darkness which is part of him and which he has accepted.

 And I think the game manages to show it pretty well in act 3 – this nuanced and ambivalent mindset, between his affection for his partner or his friends, his genuine will to be tender and vulnerable with the person he loves, and the darkness, the violence, which are parts of his temperament.

This ambivalence is precisely why I love him so much. The unpredictability of his reactions, and the fragility of the healing process, but also, mostly, the way Radiant Astarion is at peace with his own ambivalence. 

[joelsrose]

hey angels, i'm back! here is part 3!

i'm so sorry but i wont be doing a taglist because it gets so confusing!!! hope you understand

im so glad everyone is enjoying this series so far and i had so much fun writing it. part 1 and part 2 are here!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Joel woke the next morning already muttering under his breath, half-formed curses strung between his teeth as he sat on the edge of the bed and yanked his boots on with more force than necessary, like the act of getting dressed itself was an inconvenience, like the cold floorboards and the memory of what he’d said weren’t already chewing at his thoughts.

“This is stupid,” he grumbled to the empty room, rubbing a hand over his face, jaw still clenched from a restless night. “Ain’t nothin’ to fix.”

But still—he tugged his jacket on.

Still—he grabbed the folded cloth bundle off the counter, the one with the damn bread he made that morning even though he told himself it was just habit, just something to do with his hands.

And still—he left the house, boots crunching against gravel, the sky above streaked with soft clouds, pale light pouring through the breaks like the morning itself hadn’t quite decided what kind of day it wanted to be.

He didn’t know exactly what he was going to say. He never did.

But he walked anyway.

Down the worn trail between cabins, past the little wooden fence where Benji’s toys were still scattered in the dirt from yesterday’s visit, past the quiet murmur of townsfolk just beginning to stir.

His shoulders were hunched slightly against the cold, but his hands were steady, and his steps had that slow, stubborn rhythm—the kind he got when he was doing something he didn’t want to admit he cared about.

He knew where you’d be.

You always helped unload the greenhouse supply crates on Wednesdays, that gentle routine of yours as predictable as sunrise.

He imagined you there now, bent slightly at the waist, sleeves pushed up as you wiped your hands on your apron, maybe tucking that strand of hair behind your ear the way you always did when you were focused—so damn kind it irritated him, so soft he wanted to look away from it but never could.

And as he reached the edge of the garden path, his boots just shy of the gravel turn where your shadow flickered against the greenhouse wall, Joel took a breath that felt too tight in his chest, cleared his throat like he could clear the guilt right along with it, and prepared himself to do the one thing he hated more than almost anything else.

Try.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You didn’t see him at first—not until you turned, arms full of empty baskets, ready to head back toward the shed and put some space between you and the ache still lingering at the edge of your chest—and there he was.

Joel.

Standing awkwardly at the far end of the garden path, backlit by the pale morning sun, looking far too large for the little patch of earth beneath his boots, with a bundle clutched in his hands like he wasn’t sure whether he meant to offer it or throw it away.

His shoulders were stiff, like they hadn’t decided whether this was worth the embarrassment, and his mouth was set in that same unreadable line that had pushed you away the night before.

And your first instinct—stupid and human and wholly unprepared for this—was to turn.

To leave.

To slip out of reach before he could speak, before he could say something else that might finish what yesterday’s silence had started.

You mumbled something half-formed, barely audible—“I should—sorry, I didn’t realize—” and took one uncertain step backward, your gaze fixed somewhere near the dirt, anywhere but his eyes.

But his voice stopped you.

Low. Rough. The kind of quiet only a man like Joel could make sound like a command.

“You don’t gotta run.”

The words landed soft but heavy, like the earth had exhaled with him.

You froze, your fingers tightening around the handle of the basket, not out of fear—but out of that unbearable vulnerability, the kind that comes when someone you want to care has already proven they can hurt you.

He took one step forward, not enough to close the space, but enough to be noticed.

“I, uh…” he started, then paused, his eyes dropping to the bundle in his hands like maybe it could speak for him. “I made this. S’just bread.”

You looked up slowly, cautiously, as if any sudden movement might shatter the moment between you—and sure enough, in his hands was a folded cloth, still faintly steaming at the corners, the scent of rosemary and flour curling into the cold morning air like some kind of truce.

“I ain’t…” he tried again, then cleared his throat. “Ain’t good at talkin’. Or… at fixin’ shit I broke.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that stretched long and uncertain but didn’t hurt the way it had the night before.

You stepped forward, just slightly, just enough to meet him in the middle, your voice smaller than usual but steady.

“Is this an apology?” you asked gently, a ghost of something like hope threading through your words.

Joel exhaled through his nose, eyes dropping to the ground, jaw tight.

“It’s bread,” he muttered.

You bit your lip, fighting a smile you hadn’t expected to feel.

“Okay,” you said, reaching out to take it from him, your fingers brushing his just slightly, like the contact didn’t mean anything and meant everything all at once. “I like bread.”

He nodded once, then again, like maybe twice would make it feel less like something important had just happened.

You stood there for a long moment, two people surrounded by garden beds and quiet things beginning to grow.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You two were back at yours now, the walk from the garden long enough for the silence to soften into something companionable, almost shy, like neither of you quite knew how you’d gotten here but both were willing to let the moment stretch a little longer just to see where it went.

Joel had never been to your house—not that there’d ever been a reason for him to be—and yet the second he stepped through the door, he felt like he was intruding on something tender and private and irrevocably you.

There were wildflowers tucked into jars on every windowsill, their petals curling toward the sun like they belonged in your palms; a pink throw blanket draped over the arm of the couch; a little ceramic dish shaped like a heart filled with gold rings and mismatched earrings by the sink; and the faint scent of rosewater and vanilla that hung in the air like a whisper of someone who believed—deep down, in spite of everything—that love was still something worth inviting in.

It was small, sweet, soft around the edges in a way Joel had never let his life become.

And now he sat awkwardly at your tiny coffee table, a mug between his hands that read “love you, mean it” in swirling cursive, drinking coffee that was far too sweet, far too creamy, far too… you—and yet he didn’t complain, didn’t grimace, didn’t say a word.

He just sat there like a piece of furniture out of place, this broad, battle-worn man folded into your dainty, lavender-drenched kitchen like someone waiting for a punchline.

You watched him from across the table, cheeks warm with amusement, lashes fluttering as you stirred a second sugar cube into your own mug—your voice soft and curious when you finally spoke.

“So…” you said, cocking your head to the side just slightly, like you were trying to see if the light would hit him differently, “what made you change your mind?”

He didn’t answer right away—just sighed, long and low, like the breath had been sitting in his chest for years, waiting for the right moment to leave.

His thumb ran over the rim of the mug, slow and absent, eyes fixed on the table, not yours.

“I didn’t,” he muttered. “Not really.”

You blinked, heart skipping once, but said nothing.

Joel shifted slightly, his broad shoulders hunched in on themselves like he was trying to make himself smaller in a space too delicate to hold him.

“I just figured…” he continued, voice rough but quiet now, “if it meant you’d stop lookin’ at me like I kicked your damn puppy... I’d let you try.”

Your lips twitched, a laugh almost escaping—but it caught in your throat, tangled in something softer, something more fragile, because there was a flicker of something beneath his words. You could’ve pushed. Asked again. Called out the lie—because you knew Joel Miller didn’t change his mind for no reason, especially not about something as small and inconvenient as feelings. But instead, you let him sit in it. Let him keep his pride. Let him lie.

“Well,” you said, wrapping your hands around your mug and letting your thumb trace the rim the way he had, “I promise not to pair you with anyone who hates dogs.”

Joel huffed a low breath through his nose.

“Okay,” you said brightly, already shifting into your element, that familiar spark lighting up your features as you leaned forward and reached into the woven basket beside your chair.

Joel watched you warily as you unfolded your reading glasses—thin, gold-rimmed, delicate little things that perched on your nose like they belonged in a much gentler world.

And then—like magic, like some conjurer of hearts and chaos—you pulled a small, worn notebook from seemingly nowhere, its edges dog-eared, spine cracked, and corners filled with little stickers and loops of hearts, as if you couldn’t quite help decorating love wherever you touched it.

Joel blinked at the sight, his frown deepening.

“The hell is that?” he asked, suspicion laced thick in his voice, like you’d just pulled a grenade pin instead of a spiral-bound pastel journal.

You flipped it open with a satisfying little flutter of paper, your fingers brushing gently across the pages like they were sacred, until you landed on one in particular—a page that had clearly seen better days, with a name at the top that had been written in bold cursive, then scratched out, rewritten, circled, underlined, and scratched out again in a mess of exasperated swirls.

“It’s my matchmaking journal,” you said sweetly, tapping the page with your pen as if that explained everything.

Joel squinted. “Your what?”

“My matchmaking journal,” you repeated, pushing your glasses up your nose in that distracted, charming way of someone who was already too deep in thought. “It’s where I write down all my pairings, compatibility theories, failed first dates—oh, and moon sign clashes. That’s a big one.”

Joel just stared. At the journal. At you.

At his name, scratched out no less than three times.

And then back at you again.

“You’ve got moon signs in there?”

“Mhm.”

“And me.”

“Yes.”

“Scratched out.”

You blinked innocently. “You weren’t very cooperative.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and let out a low, grumbled exhale—the kind that said this is ridiculous.

“You’re serious about this?”

“As a heart attack,” you said brightly, flipping the page and clicking your pen like a surgeon preparing for something far more dangerous than romance. “Now, let’s start.”

Joel muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.

But he stayed.

And you smiled.

And maybe—just maybe—this was going to work.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You started off simple—careful not to spook him, not to dive too deep too fast. The page, faintly crinkled from how many times you'd opened it, bore his name in bold ink: Joel Miller, underlined twice, as if writing it down could make sense of him.

You chewed the end of your pen for a moment, eyelashes fluttering in thought before you began speaking aloud, mostly to yourself but loud enough that the grumpy man across from you could hear every word.

“Joel Miller,” you read softly, tilting your head. “Fifty-six years old… former contractor… current grumbler…”

Joel shot you a look. “What?”

You smiled sweetly, tapping your pen against your chin. “Nothing. Just jotting down your strengths.”

He raised a brow. “That’s a strength?”

You nodded, scribbling something else down. “You’re consistent. Consistency is a green flag.”

He scoffed. “That what passes for romance these days?”

“Oh, I never said you were romantic,” you hummed, flipping the page to one with a soft pink sticky note that read Miller, Joel – High risk / High reward? in your looping script. “But that’s what I’m here for. We build from the rubble.”

Joel looked like he might argue. Or leave. Or groan loud enough to shake the walls. But he didn't, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing along the handle of his mug, saying nothing.

“Okay,” you said brightly, flipping a fresh page in your notebook, pen poised like you were about to solve a case. “Let’s start with something easy. What are some of your hobbies?”

“I ain’t got hobbies,” he muttered, not even bothering to look up from the swirl of black coffee in his cup.

You frowned, nose scrunching slightly as you tapped the pen against the notebook. “That’s not true. Everyone has hobbies.”

“Not me,” he said again, firmer this time, like the topic was already closed.

You exhaled through your nose, more amused than frustrated, and scribbled something down anyway.

Joel squinted across the table. “What’re you writin’?”

“Just… that your hobbies include cooking.”

“That ain’t a hobby,” he grunted, frown deepening.

“Yes it is,” you insisted sweetly, lips quirking as you glanced up at him. “And you’re good at it.”

He shifted slightly in his chair, the faintest twitch of discomfort in his jaw. Joel Miller was not a man used to compliments—at least, not the kind that came with soft smiles and genuine warmth. He grumbled something incoherent under his breath, but you caught the way his ears turned a delicate shade of pink, like embarrassment blooming just beneath the skin.

You smiled to yourself and closed the book gently. You met his eyes then—steady and warm—and tilted your head.

“Okay. How about we try this instead,” you said, voice softer now. “What do you look for in a partner?”

Joel’s sigh was long and heavy, dragged from somewhere deep in his chest like it hurt to even entertain the thought. He rubbed a hand down his face, fingers catching on the roughness of his stubble.

“I ain’t lookin’ for a partner,” he said finally, voice low, like he meant to end the conversation right there.

You exhaled softly and gave him a small, patient smile and said, “Joel. You said you’d do this. So if you’re going to—if you’re really going to—we might as well try.”

Joel just sat there in the soft golden quiet of your kitchen, shoulders hunched slightly forward, eyes fixed on the coffee in his mug like maybe it held a better answer than he could ever offer. The silence stretched for a moment too long, not tense exactly, but brittle.

“If it’s easier,” you offered gently, tilting your head, your voice that same calm lilt you used with nervous couples on their first matchmaking visit, “what kind of women did you used to date? You know… before all of this.”

He finally looked up, brows tugging together in a way that made the lines on his forehead deepen, like they’d been carved there by years of grief and sleepless nights. He squinted at you, skeptical. “You mean like… twenty years ago?”

You nodded, lashes fluttering once as you rested your chin in your hand, the pen still tucked between your fingers like you were ready to write down anything he might dare to say.

Joel exhaled, low and rough. “Jesus,” he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Ain’t thought about that in a long time.”

You stayed quiet, letting him take his time.

He gave a small shrug, eyes drifting toward the window. “Guess I used to go for women who didn’t take shit from me. Strong. Didn’t scare easy. Had their own lives, their own jobs… smart, too. I liked that.”

You smiled softly, already scribbling something in your notebook - something along the lines of - Looking for someone strong. Opinionated. Doesn’t back down. Smart. - Sally from the infirmary maybe???

He glanced at you, almost defensively. “That don’t mean I’m lookin’ for anyone now.”

“I know,” you said, that little smile still playing on your lips. “But it helps. Just paintin’ the picture.”

Joel grunted again—his signature form of communication, really—but it wasn’t the sharp kind anymore. More like a low, irritated rumble that said I’m only tolerating this because you made the coffee. He scratched at the side of his jaw, where the stubble had turned nearly silver, and narrowed his eyes at you as if you’d just asked him to solve advanced calculus.

“Okay,” you said, undeterred, pen poised above the notebook with a hopeful gleam in your eyes, “do you have any deal breakers? Like kids? Pets? A specific age range? Blondes? Brunettes? People who clap when the plane lands?”

That earned you a look. Flat, squinting, vaguely appalled.

“I ain’t orderin’ off a damn menu,” Joel muttered, leaning back in the tiny kitchen chair that looked about two seconds from surrendering under his weight. “This ain’t the goddamn Cheesecake Factory.”

You bit back a giggle, twirling the pen between your fingers. “So… no preference?”

He gave you a long, unimpressed stare. “My preference is peace and quiet.”

You gave him a look then—not judgmental, not pushy, just something warm and amused beneath your lashes, the kind of expression that made people feel safe enough to say things they didn’t mean to.

You tucked your pen behind your ear like you’d done this a hundred times before, and folded your hands in your lap, watching him with that unshakable patience he found both infuriating and disarming.

Joel exhaled through his nose, slow and rough, eyes dropping to his coffee as if it might offer him a way out.

The silence stretched between you for a beat, maybe two, and just when you thought he might clamp down entirely, he spoke—gruff, honest, voice low like he didn’t much care to hear it out loud.

“Someone kind,” he muttered. “Someone who doesn’t—doesn’t need me to be anything more than I am. Ain’t lookin’ to be fixed. Just… someone real. Good with quiet. Good with… mess.”

Your gaze softened, a small shift in your posture like you were trying to absorb the weight of what he’d said without frightening it back into hiding.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t tease, didn’t scribble it down like you had the other answers. You just looked at him, like maybe you understood the kind of ache he carried.

Joel cleared his throat then, uncomfortable with the silence, with your eyes on him like that. “But I still don’t want no one clappin’ when the plane lands. That’s just—hell no.”

You laughed, and it was light and musical and so very you, and for the first time since walking through your door, Joel didn’t feel like bolting.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[cozycottagetarot]

How They Show Their Love & Affection

This reading is for entertainment purposes only! Take only what resonates be it all, some or none! ✨

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PILE 1

I feel like your person is such a romantic. They genuinely want you to feel loved and believe it wholeheartedly. You can practically sense their love—they want you to feel like you're absolutely blessed and gifted in this lifetime when you're with them. I really get the sense that your person embodies certain love languages strongly. Gift-giving and acts of service could be their primary love language.

They want to make you feel like you're living a luxurious life, defined by whatever "luxury" means to you. They're the kind of person who would buy flowers for you, just because. They'd go for a walk and hold your hand which may feel a bit cliche. with you—simple, sweet moments like that mean a lot to them. If there’s something practical, like bugs in your home that need dealing with, they’d step in and handle it for you without hesitation.

They’re very romantic, both in the classical sense and in a way that's unique to how the two of you define romance. There’s also this cheerleader vibe—they’ll always be in your corner, supporting you and encouraging you.

They’d take time out of their day just to be with you, even if it’s something quick, like grabbing coffee or tea together for five minutes. They’re the kind of person who appreciates those little moments and stitches them into something meaningful.

They’d also plan thoughtful surprises for you. If surprises aren’t your thing, they’d still do spontaneous, kind gestures to show their love. If you asked, “What’s the occasion?” they’d simply say, “Just because” or “Just because I love you.” That’s their energy—always looking for ways to make you feel special.

I get the feeling they want to be your knight in shining armor. Anytime you need them, they’ll be there. You can absolutely count on them, 100%.

PILE 2

I'm getting the sense that your person is the strong, silent type. You may be someone who has either struggled mentally or faced a lot of hardships and difficult events in your life. Because of this, your person’s primary love language is to show up for you and be there, offering unwavering support to help you navigate those challenges.

I feel like quality time and words of affirmation are the love languages they most naturally express. They’ll use these to offer you love and support.

They’re the kind of person who will help you see new perspectives, guiding you out of your head and pushing you to grow into your best self. At the same time, they’ll also be there to comfort you, offering a sense of safety and reassurance. Even when life feels overwhelming, they’ll remind you that you don’t have to face it all alone.

They’re going to help you break free from anything that’s holding you back—be it limiting beliefs, unhealthy habits, or challenging relationships. They’ll stand by you as you work through those obstacles, and they’ll support you in fostering healthier connections with others.

When life feels like it’s falling apart, they’ll be right there, holding your hand every step of the way. They’ll also help you rebuild, piece by piece, until you’re standing on solid ground again.

On top of all that, they’re a deeply loving and nurturing partner. Whatever you need—mentally, emotionally, or physically—they won’t hesitate to provide. They want to see you thrive, and they’ll go out of their way to make that happen.

PILE 3

In comparison to Pile 1, where that person was more outspoken about their love, your person seems to love you deeply in their mind, though they might not express it as openly. They could just be a quieter person, or maybe they're more reserved in how they show their affection.

The sense I’m getting is that you’re your person’s muse—they genuinely want you to be happy. Because of this, I feel like quality time is probably the main way they express their love. However, they might always be on the move and have a lot going on in their life, so when they do make time for you, it’s their way of showing you how much you mean to them.

They try to connect with you emotionally, which leads me to think words of affirmation might also be a love language they lean toward. They’ll offer support and encouragement, letting you know how much you mean to them through their words.

There’s also a subtle, gentle touch to their affection, though they may not be overly physical. They may not be a super touchy-feely person, but they show their care in ways that feel warm and comforting.

They seem like the type to take you on dates where you can either learn something new or experience something beautiful together. I get the sense that they’re very creative, perhaps an artist or someone with a deep appreciation for art, and that creative energy is something they bring into your relationship.

Their passion will likely show more in the experiences you share together rather than grand declarations or intense gestures. They value those shared moments and want to create lasting memories with you.

In terms of love languages, they’ll likely try to be fair and give you a balanced experience. While quality time might be their favorite, they’ll also try to meet you where you are and love you in the ways that resonate most with you. They won’t limit themselves to just one way of expressing love—they’ll try to cater to your preferences.

I also get the feeling that they favor experiences over material gifts. Rather than buying things, they’d rather create meaningful moments with you.

Ultimately, the main thing here is that they just want to spend time with you—quality time is the consistent theme that keeps coming through.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Locked Out of Heaven 1

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 dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, age gap, and other possible triggers. 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: Your father invites a work friend to the neighbourhood barbecue.

Characters: Nick Fowler (Dad's friend trope)

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. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The smell of the macaroni salad drives you crazy as it wafts from the container. You're overly cautious as you pull into the long drive. There are a few vehicles along the tarmac you don't recognize. People must have started showing up.

Behind you, another car pulls in. Sporty and sleek. You turn off the Bentley and double check the interior. Your father will give you hell if you leave one hair inside. Even letting you take one of his three cars was enough to bristle him.

You get out and go around the passenger's side to get the large container of gourmet salad. It's from the overprice steakhouse where your dad goes to drink with his work buddies. He insisted on it but made no effort to do it. You volunteered, hoping he might offer a crumb of approval. He only told you not to spill it.

You balance the container as your satchel dangles awkwardly against your hip. You use your shoulder to close the door. As you door, a figure startles you, nearly knocking the salad from your hands. A large pair cover yours as you dip to save the prized side.

"Huh, Toree's? Must be for Chuck." The man comments. You don't recognise him though he doesn't act as stranger. He keeps his hands on yours. And Chuck? No. Everyone calls your dad Charles. Except you. You call him sir. "Told him, they got better steak at Chop."

"Um..." your eyes round.

You never know what to say to your father's friends. They're all older and more important and more responsible. He doesn't look as old as the rest but you can tell he's got some years on you. Everyone does.

"Here, I'll get it. Looks like you got enough going on."

"Oh, that's...." your voice trails off as he wiggles the container free. "Thanks."

He leans in, angling his ear to you. "What's that, sweetheart?"

"Um," you murmur then clear your throat. You speak louder, enunciating carefully. "Thank you."

He smirks, "you seem like you know the way around. Wanna show me where I'm going?"

You bite your lip then stop as his bright blue eyes follow the nervous gesture. You nod and point down the drive. He doesn't move. You turn and walk along the row of cars. You hook around the hedges and toward the iron gate. It's open, the archway marked with your father's initials.

"Nice place, huh?" The man clucks. "Chuck always goes all out."

You don't have a response so you just shrug. No one notices you as you enter. They do, however, notice your unexpected escort.

"Fowler? That really you?" Jethro, your father's especially liquor-happy friend greets the man with a shoulder slap. You stay back, happy not to be seen by him. He's still trying to get you to call him Uncle.

"Well, you know, I think they're running out of things for me to do," the man, Fowler snickers.

He keeps on and you trail after him. You shrink down as several others call out to him and he stops to exchange niceties. He makes it seem so easy but it must be when they don't talk down to you.

"There you are," your dad's timbre makes you trip. You look at him in a panic.

Fowler turns and struts toward the deck where you dad stands next to the grill, your brother, Austin, clapping the tongs as he lifts the lid next to him. You stay on the man's heels, readying yourself for a chew out.

"Nick," your dad extends his hand.

The man in front of you puts the container on the table across from the grill and shakes your dad's hand. "Chuck."

"You brought the salad."

"Ah, no, actually, I forgot the scotch I brought in my car," the man chuckles. "Actually, this kind woman brought that slop."

Your dad glances over and his jaw ticks in recognition. "Huh."

"Gonna be bored around here, isn't she? Bit young for this crowd."

"My daughter," you dad derisively pronounces your name, "she's got nowhere else to be."

You lower your eyes. He's not wrong but it's not something he needs to say.

"Ha, well, I'm sure she can figure something else," Nick turns to you. "Bit of advice, run."

He laughs again but you just feel stupid. You're always the joke.

"Stand up straight," your dad reproaches. "Why don't you offer him a drink? I taught you manners."

"Really? You? Manners?" Nick chides. "Don't you worry about me," he frightens you as he squeezes your shoulder gently, "I'm a big boy. I can get my own drink." His thumb rubs you briefly and he retracts his grip, "point me to the trough, Chuck."

Your dad directs him to the cooler and follows him over. You back up, content to fade back into oblivion, and skirt back down to the lawn. You look around at the smattering of guests. All those older men who work with your dad at the agency or play at his golf club, a few neighbours too.

You keep to the edge of the yard and find the flat stone behind the rose bushes. It's just big enough for you to sit. You'll happily hide there until you're quickly forgotten again.

💜

The smell of the barbecue builds with the tenor of the guests. You listen to the shuffle on the other side of the bushes and watch through the thorns as dinner is served up. Methodical as always, you wait until the rush has dispelled before you go to get your own share. Or rather, the leftovers.

It's funny. Your dad says you never think ahead but it feels like you have to analyse every second of every minute. He'll be sure to find something to pick apart.

You go up onto the deck. There's a chicken burger but no buns left. You take it and scrape up what's left of the romaine salad. There's no macaroni. It sure smelled good but oh well. You glance around. Hm. Maybe you can scrounge up a bun, or at the very least, some bread inside. Besides, you wouldn't mind the excuse to get away.

You let yourself in the back door and stop short. You're met with an unexpected sight. That man you met on the way in, the one some call Fowler but your father called Nick, stands at the sink... exposed. He has his shirt off and in his hands as he scrubs it under the running faucet.

You're so stunned you can't move or think. His arms are muscular and bulging with his effort. His chest too. You can see tension in his sides. There's that little cautious voice in the back of your head. You shouldn't be staring and you certainly shouldn't be feeling all tingly about it.

"Oh, it's just you, sweetheart," he glances over and grins. His eyes sparkle as his hair falls forward. "You wouldn't know how to get barbecue sauce out, would ya?"

You blink and cough. You can't speak. You near and put your plate on the counter. You look at the stain on his shirt as he holds it up to show you.

"Dish soap?" You find your voice. "Or..." it feels like he's getting closer. Leaning in, or something. Why is it so hot? You can hear the AC going.

"Sorry," he reaches to shut off the faucet. "You're so quiet, dish soap?"

"Yep, or... baking soda."

"Baking soda, sure... think I heard that one before," he clucks. "Right, let's give it a go."

He reaches for the bottle of soap. He squirts it on to the stain and put it back. Then he flips the faucet on again. He huffs and lets out a disappointed groan.

"If this even comes out, I'm going to be walking around with a wet shirt." He clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

You peek up at his profile as it sets in concentration. Straight nose, thick brows, high cheekbones. There's a shadow of stubble around his sharp jaw and a sliver of silver woven in at his temples.

"Oh, I..." you begin and back up.

You turn and quickly flee as the unfinished thought spurs you to action. It's a good reason to get away and stop gawking. You don't usually do that but your eyes just don't want to stay away.

You hurry upstairs to the bathroom and open the drawer. You take out your small purple blow dryer. You spin and rush back down.

As you enter, he holds up the shirt and faces you. He lowers it just enough to see you over the top. "What do you think? Noticeable?"

You look at the blue pattern. You know where to look so you can see it. You tilt your head.

"Not that bad."

"Oh, don't spare my feelings," he scoffs.

You look down as his eyes blaze at you. You raise the blow dryer. He crosses the kitchen and you nearly wilt.

"Good thinking, sweetheart."

Sweetheart... he keeps calling you that. Your dad doesn't even do that. You're just the kid or whatever. You're twenty-one. You're an adult. Or trying to be.

"Clever," he holds out his hand. 

You look around. "Uh, one sec."

You go to the counter and reach across to plug in the blow dryer. He follows. Closely. He raises the shirt and you take the front of it. You spread the fabric with your fingers and turn on the dryer. You aim the air at the wet patch.

You don't know if it's the heat of the dryer or if it's him staring, but sweat coats your scalp. You feel the spot with your thumb and shut it off. You unplug it and wrap up the cord as he turns the shirt.

"Hm, not bad. You're right." He says.

"Probably come all out in the wash."

"Just a shirt," he shrugs and slips his hand through the sleeve. "What're we having then?"

He pushes his arms into the shirt and it falls to his shoulders. He tugs it and turns to look over your plate. You try to wipe the glimpse of his torso from your mind.

"Just chicken and salad." You put the dryer aside and go to the bread basket. It's only croissants.

"No bun? You're not on some sort of wacky diet, are you?" He wonders.

"None left," you shrug and go to your plate. He doesn't move. "It's fine. I'm not too hungry."

"What about that salad you brought? That was yummy."

You try to smile at him but your cheeks are tight. When you look at him, all of you locks up. You don't know why he cares, if he really does.

"No big deal, this is good for me," you take your plate and head for the door.

He follows. Shoot. He's quick too. He swoops around you and opens the door ahead of you, holding it from the inside so you brush by him to get out. He trails after you.

"You know, wouldn't take you as Chuck's kid. You're too nice. Too quiet. He's a bit of a loudmouth," he chortles. "But I'm guessing you know that."

"He's my dad," you shrug. 

"You live here with him?"

You nod.

"Ah. Not bad. Good place to crash while you finish school. You go?" He asks.

"Uh huh. Biochem." You answer. "It's hard."

"Would be," he says. "Wow. Chuck choose that or you?"

You furrow your brow and look at him. He really guessed that easily? You shrug again.

"Sorry, nosy. I get bored at these things. Hence, why I never show up." He checks his watch. "Well, I won't ruin your supper." He looks at your plate and makes a face, "if you can call it that."

He runs his hand up your back as he steps past you. It sends a chill through you. You watch him go. He approaches Brad, the neighbour, as he points at the sports cap on his head in some sort of manly challenge. They posture and chuckle. For someone who claims to hate these things, he's sure good at working his way through them.

You drag your feet down the steps and back to the rose bushes. You sit on the stone and balance your plate on your lap. You tear a piece of the chicken burger away and gnaw on it. It's cold and the salad is soggy from sitting in the dressing. Well, at least you got something this time.

[mintarot]

Pick a Pile - A movie quote to describe your month of July ˙⋆✮

Hi lovelies! 💖 I'm back with another reading, this time with a new category, "Pick-A-Pile", which is a little different from my PAC posts. They are a little more lighthearted and fun! The methods of divination are more experimental as well instead of the traditional tarot reading! These PAP will be posted once a week while PAC will be posted 2-3 times a week, so follow me to keep a lookout for them! For custom readings tailored specifically to you and your questions, please consider booking an in-depth reading here! (other methods of booking available, check out them out under ‘services’!).☘︎ ݁˖

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So without further ado, let's jump right into the reading! Today's reading will be done with a little movie quote bibliomancy and some scene analysis!

Trust your intuition, pick the pile that calls to you most (header image), and let’s see what guidance the cards have to offer. Remember to take what resonates and leave what doesn't! ♡

!! Disclaimer: My readings are not meant to substitute advice from professionals, please consult professionals in cases of physical, mental health, legal, finance, etc. Please do not copy or redistribute my content, thanks! 🫶🏻

Pile 1

“They call me Mister Tibbs!” - Virgil Tibbs, In the heat of the night (1967) Scene summary: In a tense and racially charged moment, a police officer disrespectfully asks for a name. With calm defiance and razor-sharp authority, Mr. Tibbs responds, “They call me Mister Tibbs!" It's a line that slices through prejudice and reclaims dignity. 📹watch the scene here!

Wow! A very powerful one-liner quote to start of the month of July. There is a powerful energy stirring in you as you step into the month of July. You may have been feeling disrespected or mistreated, like someone is trying to step over you or in an attempt to dehumanize you.

But this month calls for a reclamation of your power and identity. Don’t be afraid to fight back and set firm boundaries with people who disrespect you just like how Mr. Tibbs corrects the police officer with authority and the demand for respect that he wasn’t shown. He demands to be seen as a man, not dehumanized, especially since he has been not only disrespected but belittled as well with the police officer asking him ‘What is your name, boy?’, before his iconic one-liner, a subtly knife diminishing his dignity, it’s not just rude but it’s belittle as well. He’s almost treating him like a child, demeaning and infantilizing him, implying that he’s too young and naive for his opinions to matter in an attempt to strip away his worth. He’s like saying, “You don’t belong here in the adult world’.

A name is like an identity and when someone attempts to strip that identity away, fight back and reclaim your identity with confidence. Mr Tibbs isn’t ashamed of his name, he isn’t ashamed of his identity, so don’t be ashamed of yours. Don’t be afraid to stand your ground against people of higher authority or rank than you. Being in a position of power doesn’t give them the right to push you around as they wish.

Step up and reclaim your power. Even though it may seem difficult or even scary at first to set boundaries, but as you practice, you will slowly be able to gain the confidence and strength to voice your feelings clearly and set firm and healthy boundaries properly. Similarly, as you command respect, treat others the same as well, be kind and respect them. Don’t let bitterness harden you.

Additionally, don’t just draw boundaries. Set clear expectations that those who disregard your boundaries will be held accountable. Your boundaries aren’t just for show, they are there to act as your shield, protecting your energy and peace from negativity. The greatest challenge and your greatest power would be: to be kind to the unkind. 🦁

Film still from: In the heat of the night (1967) dir. Norman Jewison

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Pile 2

“Bond. James Bond.” - James Bond, Dr. No (1962) Scene summary: At a glamorous casino table, Bond introduces himself: smooth, steady, and iconic. This classic one-liner, delivered with poise and presence, marks the beginning of a subtle yet electrifying exchange, a game of wits and charm. 📹 watch the scene here!

Ooooo! Confidence is oozing through you in the month of July! Such a powerful and confident one-liner introduction quote delivered over a gambling table. This quote suggests that maybe you have been facing hardships or troubles lately that has discouraged you but this quote reminds you to be confident and don’t be afraid of a challenge. Hold your head up high and face the challenge head on. When someone decides to challenge you (even subtly), confidently match their energy with grace instead of backing down. These challenges may not be about winning or domination, but rather an invitation to find mutual respect and maybe even see things from a different angle, finding common ground or even build rapport with someone else who may see things differently.

It’s like a debate where two people are testing each other to grow and evolve. When you hold your ground with confidence and calmness, it creates space for understanding, maybe even unexpected alignment with each other. And of course, standing up to a challenge is much easier said than done, but confidence grows through practice.

When James Bond introduces himself with his full name after, it’s almost like he's stepping into power, fully embracing his identity. He isn’t afraid or ashamed of his name, he is proud and confident of it. It’s a very simple but bold introduction. He owns who he is, unapologetically and you are being called to do that same.

This card suggests to channel your natural charisma and inner strength in order to gain confidence and command the attention for any room you walk into. Start showing confidence through little actions such as correcting your posture, walking boldly with purpose or even speaking with clarity and precision. You don’t need to force it, your presence speaks for itself. Don’t lower your standards or settle for the bare minimum. Being decisive could be your greatest strength in being confident in yourself.

This quote also reminds you that while it is good and important to think strategically when facing a difficult situation or when presented with many different choices, don’t let it become a cage for you. Try not to overthink or overanalyze as it may double edged sword as it may cut into your clarity rather than help you make the ‘correct’ choices. So this quote gently suggests to let go of the need for perfection or making the ‘correct’ choices and instead embrace the imperfection. Don’t panic when you are faced with choices, instead trust yourself and be confident in yourself. Take risks that you may have always been afraid to take and embrace the journey and results that you will receive after.

Life is like a gamble, it is uncertain and unpredictable. You can analyze every angle possible but ultimately, you won’t gain anything if you aren’t willing to take risks and step out of your comfort zone and into the unknown. You will miss 100% of the shots you don’t shoot. Sometimes, the best growth comes from imperfect choices. With that being said, it is important to trust your gut feeling as well, if something feels wrong or off, it most likely is. You don’t need to have all the answers upfront, just enough courage to take the first step into the unknown. 🔥

Film still from: Dr. No (1962) dir. Terence Young

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Pile 3

"Tell 'em to go out there with all they got and win just one for the Gipper." - George Gipp, Knute Rockne: All American (1940) Scene summary: As he lies on his deathbed, George Gipp makes a heartfelt request to his coach: to inspire the team to play not for victory, but in honor of a final wish. It’s a tender moment of legacy, loyalty, and quiet strength. 📹 watch the scene here!

This July brings a soft and tender energy, a quiet healer’s energy. You may find yourself near someone, a loved one or a close friend suffering from hardships during this month.

Just like the original scene where George Gipp lies in bed, dying from pneumonia while asking his coach, Knute Rockne to fulfil his last wish, this quote feels like whisper, a soft call for help: a last wish or a dream too fragile to carry alone as of right now. You may be called to be like a Coach Knute Rockne, a companion to support them with kindness throughout this period both physically and emotionally. This doesn’t mean fixing the problem for them but simply by being by their side, comforting them and encouraging them during this period may go a long way. Maybe staying with them when they need you or even just lending a listening ear when they talk about their problem.

At times, you may also be called to step up and carry a wish or a dream that others may not have the strength to fulfil at that point in time or simply to do something in their name or memory. This act of love and devotion is sacred, so do your best to help and support them throughout this tough month. But remember honor your energy and limits as well, rest and recharge, don’t exhaust yourself when helping them. Even the brightest and strongest of candles will burn out if their flame is not tended to properly. You are important just as they are. Balance nourishing yourself and giving out energy.

This quote also calls for empathy and compassion, putting yourself in other’s shoe. Try to understand their situation without passing judgement. And while compassion matters in this case, accountability still stands. Kindness and accountability can coexist. You don’t have to excuse if they put on harmful behavior.

So this month, let your actions be guided by kindness, compassion and soft but steady strength. Support others in their times of need with kindness and don’t forget to show love to them. Show that they matter and are valued. Most importantly, give yourself the same energy.

And remember, just as George Gipp quietly and clearly ask for his wish to be carried out, you can ask for help too. If you find yourself ever struggling, don’t be afraid to reach out and ask for help. There are plenty of people happy to help and support you through your tough periods as well, just like the way you support them. Vulnerability and the need to ask for help doesn’t mean weakness, it a sign of trust and connection. Let someone be your Rockne, stable and reliable. You deserve the same support that you give to others as well. 🕊️

Film still from: Knute Rockne: All American (1940), dir. Llyod Bacon

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This concludes the reading! Hope you enjoyed and the readings resonated with you! Leave a comment if it did, I would love to hear about what resonated with you! Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated as well! 🫶🏻

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[vettelsvee]

THIS IS MUCH BETTER THAN DRIVING | Sebastian Vettel

Red Bull (2011) Sebastian Vettel x Female best friend, Red Bull race engineer intern!Reader

SUMMARY: Seb helping you to improve your driving skills ends up in you both teasing each other and him teaching you how to masturbate (and then you beg him to eat you out) ↳ Part of HISTORY SERIES

WORD COUNT: 5133

WARNINGS: Smut (guided masturbation with Seb teaching how to do it, and oral sex, female receiving and teasing of male receiving at the end), curse words, lots and lots of teasing and sexual tension. Also a bit fluffy with Seb being a golden retriever :)

VEE'S NOTES: Seb content from Race of Champions has me over the moon. I'm not going thought a nice time in uni and my personal life and overall feel like a failure not gonna lie, but here I am! Apologies for not having updated in quite a long time but didn't feel in the mood to do so and didn't have time as well, so hope you like this one <3 ↳ TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

You had a feeling long before Seb came to your house that he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. However, it wasn’t until you saw how effortlessly he blended in not just with your family, but also with Hanna, his ex girlfriend, when you all met up at Heppenheim before leaving for Hungary, that you realized you didn’t want to waste a single second away from the Red Bull driver.

That’s why, when he decided, almost impulsively, to take a flight at the beginning of August with just a suitcase, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

You were in complete shock when you saw Seb standing at your front door, unable to believe he had traveled all the way to your country without telling you. More than that, you had no idea how he managed to keep it a secret, just so he could spend almost a month by your side. Your uncles reacted in a similar way, though not as positively.

If it hadn’t been for your aunt allowing him to stay in your room, without caring that you’d be sharing the same bed, your uncle would have undoubtedly sent him to a hotel since he had made it very clear that his house was not one.

During the nearly month-long stay at the Y/L/N household in Linz, the plan remained intact, though with small adjustments along the way. Weekly trips to the cinema became a routine. You both started acting like a couple, even if you weren’t one… yet. Grocery shopping together almost every day, looking after your younger sister as if she was your own daughter...

And then there was the driving test. Seb somehow convinced you to take the practical exam before your theory license expired. You had agreed, reluctantly, but only under one condition: he would be the one to teach you.

And so, there you were. The roles reversed. You, behind the wheel. Sebastian Vettel, Formula 1 world champion chasing his second championship, in the passenger seat, giving you instructions and trying to stay patient. But judging by the way the car jerked every time you overcorrected in the practice lot, it was obvious: you worked much better the other way around, giving him instructions on the radio during Grand Prix weekends.

You were good at a lot of things. Driving just wasn’t one of them.

“Why the fuck does the car keep stalling?!”

The frustrated hits against the steering wheel, along with the sudden brake, made Seb grip the headrest of his seat as if that would somehow help him.

“Relax, Y/N. You just need to release the clutch a little more smoothly, not so abruptly,” he corrected you, hoping he was right. “Rushing it won’t make the car go any faster.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, expert,” you huffed, restarting the engine.

It was almost funny how you were in an empty street at the very end of your homwtown with barely any people or traffic, yet you were still more nervous than you should be, losing the self-control you always claimed to have.

You had no idea what you were going to do in two days when you had to take the test with the examiner sitting behind your driving instructor.

“I don’t get why this is so complicated,” you nodded toward the uphill road in front of you. “You make it look so easy…”

“With the Red Bull car or my regular one?”

“Both,” you confirmed. “God, I’m so clumsy…”

He barely held back a laugh because, despite your frustration, you looked adorable. And, at the same time, the whole situation felt too surreal to be real.

He knew you could do it. You just needed to trust yourself a little more.

“You’ll get better with practice. Practice makes perfect. Besides, the driving test is just a formality: passing doesn’t mean you actually know how to drive,” he added.

“Are you telling me that if I somehow pass next Thursday, they’ll give me a license to drive alone, even though I don’t really know how?”

“Well, if you say it that way…”

“Then what’s the point of all this?” you muttered. “Are you going to keep driving with me until I do everything right?”

He told you with a low voice that yes, even though he was really thinking no. And, secretly, hoping that you’d manage to stop correctly at the stop sign on the hill.

“Listen, Seb,” you called, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “If I do this correctly, you owe me a kiss,” you motioned toward the stop sign.

He raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement flashing across his face.

He would give you whatever you wanted if you did it right. And if you didn’t… 

Well, he’d still give it to you.

“Seriously, Y/N? Exchanging a proper start for a kiss?”

“What did you expect then, a million euros?”

Seb didn’t answer because, honestly, he had expected a different kind of suggestion… but it’s not like he didn’t like the one you proposed.

“Sounds good to me,” he finally answered.

“Is that all you’re going to say? I’m sure you thought I’d suggest not just a kiss but a full session of undetermined length.”

Even with your eyes still fixed on the road, the playful glint in them was undeniable, and the way your cheeks were turning red only confirmed the obvious: you were starting to tease him.

“Oh, I already took that for granted. That was always going to happen after dinner, sweetheart. It’s been our routine every night…”

“Since we first tried it at the cinema a week ago,” you finished for him.

You continued driving, and this time, without a trace of nerves or stalls, you ascended the hill effortlessly.

You pressed the brake, turned to face him, and a knowing smile curled on your lips.

“Looks like you really have everything under control now,” he acknowledged, making your smile widen even more.

“So… are you going to give me my kiss?”

Tilting his head slightly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned toward you, slow yet eager. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and with your hands gripping your seat, you closed the remaining space between you.

What caught you completely off guard was that he ended the kiss before either of you truly wanted to.

“That’s it? you asked, a little disappointed. “I thought I deserved a little… more.”

And just like that, playful you was back at it again.

“Oh, yeah? And how much more are we talking about?” Seb asked, mimicking your voice.

“Not too much. Just enough to prove to me that driving fast cars isn’t the only thing you’re good at.”

The driver raised an eyebrow, pretending not to know where you were going with this. You shot him a mischievous smile, one that told him you wanted something more. Something that maybe, just maybe… you weren’t quite ready for yet.

Or at least, Seb didn’t think you were.

“Why don’t we head back home, sunshine?” you suggested.

You were bored of driving around in circles. He probably was too, but your sudden suggestion caught him off guard. He glanced at his phone, checking the time, and deep down, it made sense. It was almost 7 PM, dinnertime. And you never, ever, delayed a meal.

“Sure, but let me drive,” Seb declared. There was no way in hell he was letting you take the wheel for the trip back.

“No,” you stated firmly. “I have to pass the test.”

“And you think driving illegally is the best idea you’ve ever had? Being risky is going to help you pass?”

“Yes.”

Y/N Y/L/N, of course, the queen of stubbornness.

He eventually gave in, albeit reluctantly, already knowing it was a terrible idea.

And, of course, it was.

Every turn you took, every straight path you followed, kept him on high alert. The streets were narrow, probably too narrow for someone with almost no driving experience. His fingers clutched the edge of his seat, though he tried his best to appear unfazed. The last thing he wanted was to show any fear, but every small jolt you made caused one in him as well.

“Do it right, Y/N,” he said when you ignored a yield sign, nearly colliding with an oncoming car.

The distressed sigh you let out told him he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. But it was the sharp gasp you let out when you scraped the side mirror of the car next to you, followed by an irritating screeching noise, that sent Seb into full-blown panic mode.

“Seb!”

Without a second thought, he unbuckled and jumped out, yanking open the driver’s side door. You were frozen, on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, if you weren’t already in one.

“Y/N, calm down. It’s okay”, 

Yeah, sure, as if a girl without a driver’s license damaging someone else’s car was totally fine. 

“You need to get out of the car, sweetheart,” Seb told you with steady voice, calming his nerves.

Shaking, sniffling, and wiping at the steady stream of tears falling down your face, you barely seemed to process his words. He forced himself to stay calm as he gently unbuckled your seatbelt, his hands steadying yours as they trembled uncontrollably.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured, guiding you to the passenger seat. “Buckle up. It’s okay, alright? We’re going home.”

The alarm was still blaring, and the panic hadn’t left your face. He knew he had to act fast, and although what he was about to do wasn’t exactly the right thing, it was the only solution he could think of at the moment.

He silently promised himself he’d come back tomorrow to pay for the damages, pretending that he had been the one responsible for them.

Once he was seated behind the wheel, he wasted no time getting the car moving, maybe a little too fast, because in a matter of minutes you were back home.

“Seb, I’m going to jail!” you wailed as you stumbled out of the car. “They’re going to fail me when they find out what happened!”

“Hey, don’t be like that, you’re not going to jail, and you’re not failing any test,” Seb reassured, stepping beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It was just a small mistake. Better now than during the actual test.”

You nodded through your sobs, and he could only pray that your uncle wouldn’t be too mad about the scratches on his car because, as far as everyone else was concerned, Sebastian Vettel had been the one driving your uncle’s car the entire time.

"Darling, everyone makes mistakes," he continued, "and the important thing is that you learn from them. You're not going to jail for breaking a mirror, okay?" You nodded again. "We probably just need to talk to the car’s owner and that's it, really"

"What owner of what car do you need to talk to, Vettel?"

The door swung open abruptly, revealing Hans Y/L/N, your uncle, standing with his arms crossed and a completely serious expression. You started to hesitate, stepping closer to me in a rather suggestive way, making it more than clear that you were guilty of something.

"It was my fault, Mr. Y/L/N," Seb answered quickly. "I accidentally hit a car's mirror," he began lying, "and no matter how much we've searched, we haven't found the owner. Tomorrow, I'll go and take responsibility for the damage, and I'll also take the car to the shop to get the scratches fixed," he explained.

Your uncle gave him an unfriendly look. He raised his eyebrow, and if there was one thing Seb'd learned these past few days, it was that said gesture meant an interrogation was about to begin.

"So, you decided to play Brian O’Conner from those Vin Diesel movies Amelie’s obsessed with, huh? What exactly were you doing with my car? Or, better yet, inside my car?"

"We were just heading home, sir. I had no other intention beyond taking your niece for a drive around the town."

"And you don’t have other intentions that include to fuck her? Because that's often what your looks suggest."

You tensed beside him. Deep down, you knew that comment hadn’t been meant to be mean, but at the same time it annoyed Seb that he had made it.

Johanna, your aunt, appeared on the scene, and you both couldn't do anything but mentally thank her for showing up before Seb said something inappropriate.

"Leave the kids alone, Hans. Sebastian is not like that with my Y/N," the woman stated, shooting daggers at her husband as she positioned herself between you both. "Now, are you two hungry?"

"God, yes," Seb answered.

"No. I'm going to bed."

With that final sentence following his, you lowered your head and silently headed upstairs directly to your room.

"What's wrong with her now?" your uncle motioned toward the path you had just taken.

"She had a bad day," Seb replied, ignoring Hans' tone. "Would it be possible for me to take Y/N’s dinner up to her room?" Then, he hesitantly asked your aunt.

She nodded understandingly and quickly began placing two plates of mashed potatoes, boiled sausages, peas, a few pieces of bread and utensils on a tray.

"Don’t do anything crazy, Vettel," your uncle told Seb, calmly r. "The mashed potatoes are for eating, not for smearing all over my niece and then—"

"Hans, that's enough!"

Seb climbed the stairs with the dinner tray in hand, worried about you and hoping you weren’t hearing the argument your aunt and uncle had started in the kitchen.

When he knocked on your door, you opened it. Your expression was something Seb couldn't quite define, but it was definitely different from before. It was more… happy. You eagerly closed the door, and as soon as he set the food down on your desk and turned back to ask if you were okay, you threw yourself at him.

You started kissing Seb like your life depended on it. This was the first time your kisses didn’t show love. This time, they were something else. Lust and the desire to take a step forward in your still unofficial relationship were what made you be devouring each other hungrily, as if your lives depended on it.

"But weren’t you…?" Seb tried to ask, pulling back slightly.

"The only sadness I faked was not being able to kiss you like we just did before," you stated. "I wanted this, not a fucking argument about a broken mirror with my crazy old uncle."

Seb started wondering what was behind that confidence you had suddenly gained in just minutes.

Carefully, Seb pressed you against the wall. His hands moved from your face to your waist, beginning to explore up and down. Yours remained on the German’s chest, but as soon as he started sucking on your neck, they left that position and went straight to his hair, playing with it. Uncontrollable moans escaped your lips, growing faster and louder, and Seb had no choice but to not just ask but beg you to be quiet. 

You couldn’t get caught in the act, especially not after today's little accident.

He could see how your nipples, previously hidden, were already visible behind the fabric of your dress. Seb kissed you again to now focus on your breasts. He massaged them slowly, almost to torture you, and with the tip of his forefingers he ran the aureole of each one of them and then went on to stimulate your nipples even more.

“God, Seb, don't stop... Go on… Don’t you dare to stop…”

With gasping sighs, like your breathing, your pleas made Seb want to make you his. To lay you down on the bed, climb on top of you to position his member at your entrance and take you slowly, leisurely, making you at last one in the way he had been wanting so much lately. 

However, Seb knew you weren't ready for that yet.

“We have to stop, babe,” he whispered, abandoning what heI was doing to focus solely on looking at you. “I want you to be sure about this. I don't want our first time…”

“Seb, I am. I need you to fuck me,” you interrupted, clearly begging him for it.

Hearing you talk so dirty made Seb feel the size of my cock grow dizzily under his boxer shorts. He had never heard you talk like that, and he was more than convinced that he had just unlocked a new guilty pleasure from you.

“Please, Sebastian, fuck me….”

Seb tried to think rationally, but it was becoming increasingly impossible. He couldn't do it; not when he felt that she you not yet recovered from all you had been through after dating Mark, and were getting carried away with excitement.

Your eyes were fixed on his, and all they gave off was desire. You could have sworn Seb’s showed the same thing. He wanted, more than anyone, for you to take the next step, but one of you had to keep it cool so as not to hurt the other. 

It hurt him, for the most part, to know that you were behaving that way because you felt you owed it to him for your previous reaction when you arrived home.

Anyway, that made you try to think as fast as he could, looking for the most viable alternative. Seb knew you had to explore each other little by little, and that was supposed to suit you....

There, the idea that he considered to be the idea had just popped into his mind.

Carefully, Seb pulled you away from him. With your hair disheveled, but still beautiful, and with your arms crossed and your face unfriendly, you stood next to the bed. Your eyes threw what seemed to be invisible knives at Seb. He ignored that, and positioned himself on your bed so that his back was completely against the headboard and your legs were spread wide enough for you to sit between them.

“Sit here,” he spoke to you as calmly as he could while controlling his excitement and taking off at the same time his shirt and belt since he couldn't stand the heat anymore.

He didn't seem to understand what you had said, so you repeated it again to him:

“I want you to fuck me, Sebastian, not play games to keep me entertained,” you replied, not seeming to understand what he was getting at.

Seb didn't answer you because I knew that, if he did, you would end up getting into a quarrel in which both of you would come out badly: you, for having spoken badly to Seb for no reason, and him for having made you feel uncomfortable when the only thing he want was, precisely, the opposite.

“Will you let me give you a blowjob at least?” you suggested again as if you felt it was a way to pay for something.

Again, no answer from his side. Instead, he simply tried not to say yes and just avoided making eye contact with you as he repositioned himself a little better.

“Seb, please…”

“We have time for everything, love, so you don't want to be in a hurry to try to please me or do other things,” he explained. “Sit here between my legs, please.”

As he thought, you had regretted it. The calm tone of his voice caused you to uncross your arms and change your expression to a more relaxed one. Seb could have sworn it was a very happy one. You ended up positioning yourself where he told you, dropping backwards onto his chest and trying your best to not hurt him. 

“Are you wearing underwear?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes.”

“Could you take it off for me, love? “

Without answering him, knowing exactly what he was referring to, you arched your back slightly and took your panties off, letting them drop to the floor shyly. Then, you leaned back against Seb and, him, carefully, spread your legs a little.

“I need you to stand up a little more, honey,” he said, and you did exactly that.” Now, give me your hand.”

“Why…?” you questioned, sounding a bit insecure.

“I'm going to teach you how to pleasure yourself so that when I can't pleasure you, which I hope is never, you can do it for me.”

Seb’s confession left you with no words. You raised your head to look at him, probably not very convinced of what he had just told you.

“There's no need for this, Seb. What happened before was just…”

“I know you want to do this as much as I do, Y/N, but I want you to do it before I do it to you,” Seb interrupted you. “But really, if you want us to stop all you have to do is tell me.

You said nothing else. Shyly, you gave Seb your left hand and, as soon as he took it, he left a kiss on the top as he squeezed it tightly. He left another on you forehead, and he heard you catch your breath as you began to gently direct it below your stomach.

“Seb, can I stay dressed?” you blurted out of nowhere.

Seb knew why you had just said that, and he couldn't help but feel bad for you. 

“Sure, yeah, whatever makes you feel more comfortable darling,” he replied, trying not to break down because it hurt him to see you so insecure. “I'm always going to respect your boundaries, Y/N. Really, if you don't want to do this...”

“No,” you cut him off, stroking his cheek. ”I want to. I want to be yours in every way, and this is one of them. It's just that..”

“It's just what, Y/N?”

“Forget it…”

After that last word, he again sought approval in your gaze. With a nod, Seb brought your hands to the inside of your pussy and began to gently run your fingertips over the labia majora.

“My advice is to start here first. Little by little…”

“And no hurry,” you finished for him.

“Exactly. Once you think the time is right, move on to the labia minora, which is this,” Seb then ran your fingers over the outer area of your intimacy, a soft moan coming out of your mouth. “Give yourself love, find what you like, and from there, play with yourself however you want.”

For the next few minutes he changed rhythms, directions, and he would even go so far as to say Seb tried new things he thought you might like for when we had more contact.

His index finger, though really both of yours, went all at once to your clit, which already seemed to be a little swollen with excitement.

“This little guy is becoming your newest best friend, alright?” 

Your gasping moan gave him the reason and enough encouragement to start massaging it slowly and torturously.

“This is what will give you the most pleasure,” Seb explained, trying to increase the rhythm a little. “When you have stimulated the previous areas, go to this one.”

“And can't I go to this one directly?” you asked curiously, playing with your innocence.

“You can, but you won't be as wet as you are now.”

Seb put aside the rubbing to the spot to run it lightly over your pussy, which was wetter than he was expecting.

“See? This is what playing with you has done to you, love,”he told you.

“And can't I do it any other way?”

“Of course. There are a thousand more ways to make you cum, Y/N,” both of your fingers returned to the bundle of nerves. The speed increased, and your gasping breaths began to take over. ”Trust me when I’ll be showing you every single one of the ways when I make you cum.”

You shared no more words. You simply confined yourselves to your very own pleasure. 

Seb’s movements were faster, and also slower. The squeeze to the clit went from more to less, the other way around, and you traced so many geometric shapes on it that you were sure you even made some of them up.

Seb felt his dick getting more and more bigger, and he knew that was only going to have more than consequences, but he didn't give a fuck in that moment.

He just wanted to make you cum and make you feel in ways you probably didn’t feel like while dating Mark.

Your moans turned to screaming whispers in a low tone. You couldn’t stop moaning Seb’s name, and you felt like you were about to pass out. He knew you would go further when, with your free arm, you reached around Seb’s neck and tried to grab his hair, but failed in the attempt because you arched your back too much from the pleasure. All Seb could do was kiss you in the meantime to silence your upcoming moans, who almost made you scream.  

The moment you cummed and moaned loudly his name, between kisses, he knew he had made the right decision.

“Fuck, Seb…” was all you could say as you recovered.

“Did you like it? Did we do it right?”

“Is this... having an orgasm? I didn’t have the same ones with… you know.”

The embarrassment with which you wanted to know that made Seb want to hug you. He ended up doing so because deep down, you had him on your feet.

He was crazy over you, and moments like these made him crazy about waiting for the right moment to ask you the question.

“Yes, that's having an orgasm,” he confirmed.

You stood in front of Seb, sitting cross-legged, looking at him as if you wanted to tell him something. Then, you shook your head and hid your face behind your hands, a bit ashamed of the thoughts you were having.

“What's the matter, honey?” Seb asked, pulling your hands away and making you look at him.

“I'm so embarrassed to ask you this, but... do you think you could do it now... with your mouth?”

“You don't even have to ask me that, love. I'm here to do whatever you want. I thought you already knew that.”

Seb placed a chaste kiss on your lips. He got off the bed and, carefully, laid you down and gently dragged you so that your legs fell over the edge of the surface. Seb began to leave a trail of kisses on your inner thighs, and your sighs became like music to his ears once again.

Seb noticed how you incorporated a bit, using your elbows as a foothold to see everything.

“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is tell me, okay?”

You nodded and didn't have to tell him anything else.

Seb wrapped his arms around your legs and ran his tongue over her pussy without previous warning, catching you completely off guard. He noticed how his nose brushed your clit as his tongue was centered on your entrance.

His name, once again, came out of your mouth without any warning, and he loved that.

He devoted himself entirely to devouring you with increasing eagerness, opening and closing his mouth as he filled you with pleasure. Seb massaged your entrance with his tongue. He sucked your bundle of nerves between the strokes of, in that moment, the various letters of the alphabet over it, and did his best not to add his fingers to the equation because it had been enough discovering for that day, and he wanted to take things step by step with you.

Your back arched rather aggressively, and Seb even had to place one of his hands on your lower stomach to keep you on the mattress.

“That's right, babe. You're doing great.”

After leaving you a small kiss where his hand was placed, Seb went back to my work.

Now, his gaze held yours as he ate you like it was a once in a lifetime luxury. Seb could feel that you were just about to cum, and that only made him self-impose an increase in speed.

Seb decided to only move his lips and tongue quickly, focusing exclusively on your clit. You grabbed his hair and pulled his locks, then placed the palm of your hand on his head and brought it even closer, if possible, to your pussy.

No words needed. Seb quickly took the hint. He gripped your waist tightly as he kept your legs from closing, and continued his work.

He looked at you again, his eyes begging, aiming you to cum, to squeal, whatever you wanted, if you wanted to, not caring about what your family thought of what we were doing if they heard you both.

“My God, Sebastian Vettel!”

After those words, writhing as Seb never imagined you would despite being subjected to his grip, he felt your orgasm taking you over.

Seb took the remains of your cum, enjoying the first taste of it. The same happened to you when he kissed you. You tasted yourself for the first time as well and seemed to enjoy it. You got drunk a few nights ago, so you ended up spilling to Seb that Webber had never done anything to please you like what Vettel just did to you, and it was the same with the few guys you hooked up with for a few months.

After sharing a few more kisses, Seb got up and took you by your waist carefully, making you both collapse on the bed. Most of your clothes were still on, and you didn't have, nor did you feel, the need to get rid of them because your intimacy went far beyond your bodies being just one.

“Have these two been good enough for being the first ones?” he wanted to know, referring to the orgasms. He put an arm under your body and almost forced you to snuggle into his chest.

“Good enough?” you lifted your head, staring at himself while putting your lips together. “This is much better than driving, Seb.”

“Does that mean you want to do it again some other time? Or what...?”

“It means it's your turn now,” you declared, sitting up and positioning yourself on your knees between Seb’s legs, playing with the edge of his pants. "Then, we can repeat as many times as you want. The night is long, sunshine, so let me make you feel good now. Don’t I deserve it after being a very, bad girl today?”