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helen-with-an-a · 4 months

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I am an adult part 5

Hiya, so this is the penultimate part of this series. It's a little angstier than what I had originally planned and I'm not entirely sure it'll get much better ahahaha. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. And shout out to @lyak12 for helping me out with the plot a little ahahah

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Word Count: 5.3k

TW: A bit of bad mental health; R is a little shitty

It wasn’t until the Pokal Final that you actually got to see Lena again. It hadn’t really been a planned visit, but you had to get away. You had to see her, feel her again. You needed her to keep the darkness at bay. It was a random Monday morning when you received a phone call from your agent.

“Hey, pet, are you free to chat?” Paul said, his Geordie accent sounding slightly thicker than usual. “Yeh, yeh. I’ve just got home – what’s up?” You asked happily, not knowing the devastation that was about to come your way. “Um, look … there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna come right out and say it …” he paused, clearly psyching himself up for whatever he was about to say. You sat up from where you were slouched over the kitchen counter. This sounded important. Really important. And that scared you. “You know Barça have been having …” He searched for the right word. “Financial issues,” he settled on, hoping to give you an indication of where this conversation might be going. You did know the financial issues the club was having – it had been plastered all over various social media. You had tried not to let it worry you, but there had been a little niggle in the back of your head. “I’m so sorry, pet. They aren’t offering an extension. I’ve just received the information; they cannot afford to keep you on next season. You’re being let go. Your last match as a Barcelona Femeni player will be the 16th of June.”

Your world broke. What did they mean they could not afford to keep you? Were you not worth it to them? Of course, you weren’t worth the money. You were just a kid in their eyes. Why would they keep you instead of Alexia? A lifelong player that bled Barcelona and had multiple Ballon d'Ors to her name. Or Lucy? A multiple-time Champion League winner in her own right, with numerous individual accolades too. You were expendable. You were lucky they had even taken you on all those years ago. How naïve had you become to allow yourself to get comfortable? Was it because of the issues with the government last year? You knew you had seriously fucked up then, but everything seemed to be behind you. Nothing more had been said about the incident.

You cleared your throat, a futile attempt to dislodge the heavy lump that had formed. “Right … um …” You managed to croak out, your voice sounding foreign and weak to your own ears. “Pet, I know this is not what you wanted to hear. And I’m so, so sorry.” “It’s fine.” It was very much not fine. But you were too numb to do anything, really. The thoughts swirling dangerously across your mind were not something you wanted to process right now. “No, it’s not.” Paul's replied solemnly, his voice heavy. “I’ve tried to negotiate; I’ve just come back from a meeting with them, actually. I had hoped to have some kind of agreement made but they aren’t budging.” He paused, the silence echoing the futility of his efforts. “But you’ve got offers,” he reassured you, his words a feeble attempt to lighten the heavy disappointment. “Name the continent and you’ve got an offer. Portland, Houston, Gotham, Kansas, Tigres, Bayern, Wolfsburg, Lyon, PSG, Melbourne, Sydney, Chelsea, Man City,-”

It was too much. Information overload.

“C-can we not do this right now? I … I just need a minute.” Your voice was thick with suppressed tears. “Absolutely, of course. How about I get all the offers and whatnot up and into a document for you and I’ll email it over to you. You read over it, and I’ll schedule a meeting for, let’s say, next Monday? We can talk it all through then, yeah?” “Yeah,” you agreed absently. You didn’t want to look over offers. You wanted to stay in Barcelona. You were happy here; you had friends, and people you considered family were here. But they didn’t want you. They were more than happy to throw you to the wind without a second doubt. The phone call ended and that was that. Barça didn’t want you. You weren’t worth it.

Conflicting emotions raging a war in your mind; pain, hurt, anger, sadness, defeat, fear, anxiety, dread, disappointment, helplessness, embarrassment, shame. The first hour after the phone call you had stayed by the counter, watching each message from all of your teammates and Lena buzz. You prayed one of them would be Paul, telling you that Barça had reconsidered, that they had miraculously found the money and would offer you an extension. He never did. You knew the adult thing would be to let yourself feel … something … anything. But you didn’t want to be an adult right now. Adult, you would be sad; look over the document Paul sent over and view this as an opportunity. Adult you would phone up Ona and Alexia and ask them to come round and help you through this. Adult you would call Lena. But you weren’t an adult right now. Right now, you were scared and ashamed, and angry and in so much pain. You didn’t want to do what adults should do. You didn’t know what you wanted … but you knew being an adult was not one of them.

Eventually, you moved to the couch. The couch that you had forced Ona, Patri and Pina to help you pick out. The couch that had witnessed so many memories – you had cried on this couch, you had laughed on this couch, you had fucked on this couch, you had loved on this couch. And now you had to find a new couch. You had to leave this couch behind. Slowly, the darkness crept in. With every passing hour a new part of your house was in shadow, another memory gone. The suncatcher in the window, the candles on the coffee table, the pictures on the wall … all disappearing in the blackness and soon to be forgotten. That is what would happen to you; you were sure of it. Alexia would move on and find a new Pequeña. Ona would move in with Lucy. Patri and Pina would have dinner-and-movie dates together without you. Marta, Sandra and Irene would go back to their own lives and stop worrying about you.

What were you going to tell Lena? Sorry, Liebe, your girlfriend’s unemployed. Sorry, Liebe, your long-distance girlfriend is potentially moving further away, and you’ll never play against her again. Barcelona had witnessed so much of your first steps to a tentative relationship. Barcelona had seen your first meetings, your first date, your butterflies, your excitement when you returned home, your confusion as unknown feelings of love swirled around in your chest.

Your phone buzzed. Speak of the devil. You didn’t want to speak to her right now. You knew that talking to her would make you cry. And you were trying really hard not to cry. But all you wanted to hear was her voice, her laughter, her reassurances. Your body moved before you had even noticed. “Hey, Schatz.” “H-,” you cleared your throat. “Hey, Liebe.” “Was ist los mit dir?” You could hear the panic in her voice, the shuffling of fabric as she sat up, attentive to what was happening. Your phone beeped again.

L 💚 is requesting a switch to video call

You clicked yes without thinking about it. Her face filled your screen; even in pixels, she looked beautiful. You, on the other hand, looked like a mess. Had you been crying? You didn’t think so, but you must have been, as another tear rolled silently down your cheek. Your eyes were red, your skin splotchy, and your face swollen and puffy. “Oh, Schatz,” Lena cooed. “What’s wrong?” Her soft voice was filled with earnest. You could feel her willing you to speak to her. You shook your head as the lump grew in your throat. “Schatz … bitte.” You made eye contact through the phone. “Barça … Barça aren’t offering a new contract. I have to leave at the end of the season.” Silence. A heartbeat of pure torture. Lena didn’t know what to say. She was angry for you – how could they not want you? Talent aside, you were the most incredible human in the world. Why would they not want you? But one look at you told her you didn’t need her anger; you needed her comfort. “Oh, Schatz,” she cooed. You shook your head, trying to fight back the overwhelming force of tears. “It’s ok to cry,” she reminded you. Her permission was all you needed. Hot, wet tears streamed down your face; the sobs hurt your chest. How? How could they do this? It took a while, filled with Lena’s comforting words and gentle reassurance, for you to calm down. When you were coherent enough to see the screen properly, you could tell Lena had been crying, too. Great, now you had made your girlfriend cry. “Ha-have you spoken to your agent?” She asked quietly, humming when you nodded. There was another pause, this time not as painful but still hard to get through. “Schatz, I want to come see you. Or you to see me. Please…” she pleaded. “No, Liebe, you’re busy. You’ve,” you sniffed, wiping your nosy unattractively on your sleeve. God, you’d be lucky if she still wanted to be with you after this. “You’ve got the Pokal final in like 3 days.” You so desperately wanted to see her, though. “Then you come to me,” she implored. “I’ve got matches, too,” you whimpered. The last thing you wanted to do was play for a club that didn’t want you. “Schatz, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but fuck them.” That made you laugh … well, not laugh per se, more like a weird huff or snort. But Lena could tell it was a gesture of humour nonetheless, she couldn’t help but respond with a similar smile. “I’m being honest. You’ve basically won the league; you can skip one game. You need a break and time to get your head around everything. Tell them it’s for mental health or whatever. Just … please, Schatz. I need to see you. I need to know you’re ok,” she said more seriously. “If you don’t come to Germany, I’m coming to you.”

You mulled it over, and Lena could tell you were thinking properly. You stared off out of the camera, your teeth sinking into your lip. You had your thinking face on. You really didn’t want to see anyone at Barça for the next few days. You needed to step back and have time to process, but you couldn’t do that with training and having to face the girls again. And it was true that you had already won the league; you didn’t need to play this particular match. And a break might do you some good. With the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League finals coming up, seeing Lena again was something that would definitely help you relax a little. But you had the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League finals coming up. You couldn’t miss valuable days of training. Barça were on for the quadruple. Should you do it? “The matches …” you finally said. “Mean nothing if it’s at the expense of your mental well-being,” Lena said emphatically. That was true. Winning the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League would mean the world to you, only … you wouldn’t, couldn’t, be able to truly enjoy the experience. Not with this sword dangling over your head.

Less than 6 hours later, you found yourself on a plane. You had booked the first available flight out of Barcelona, hastily stuffing random hoodies and comfy joggers into a bag and snatching your passport. A curt text to Jona was all it took. You had made your decision, and a sense of relief washed over you. Lena would help you make sense of everything. You would take some time, give yourself a few days away from it all and then return with a plan. At least, that's what you told yourself.

Y/F/N Y/S/N: Hi. Unfortunately, I won’t be at training this week due to personal reasons. I would also appreciate if my name taken off the match list this weekend. Thanks Y/N.

Jonatan Giráldez: Hola, Y/N. I’m so sorry to hear that. Of course, take as much time as you need and yes, your name is off the squad list. If there is anything the club can do to help, please let me know. I hope you feel better soon, J.

If there’s anything the club can do to help? After they threw you away like you were nothing? After they brought you here as a child and then washed their hands of you? Not even having the decency to tell you with more than a month until your contract expired. Why would you go to the club? And surely Jonatan would know about your agent's conversations with the club? The staff always had a say in who was staying and who wasn’t; he must have known that the meeting was happening. That you were being told that you were no longer considered a valuable squad member – or at least one that warranted the cost to keep on … right?

One thing you hadn’t really considered, or maybe you had subconsciously but didn’t care, was the rest of the team. In their eyes, you had finished the recovery session on the Sunday as happy as Larry, and then you had dropped off the face of the earth. No one had heard from you, and then suddenly, at training, Jona said that you were taking some time off due to personal reasons. And no, he genuinely didn’t know what the personal reasons were. He even went so far as to show the Captains your text message. Short and to the point, no elaboration. Patri could feel the iciness through the words. Something was wrong.

Alexia’s phone call went straight to voicemail, as did Patri’s … Sandra’s, Irene’s, and Marta’s. They had Ona try, Pina, Cata, and Lucy. Every member of the team tried phoning you, and they all received the same response: straight to voicemail. So, you had turned your phone off. “Is she at her house?” Keira asked, watching as Ona pulled up your location. Ingrid stood off to the side, watching with worry as the girls descended into chaos over your unknown whereabouts. “Ok, everyone, enough,” she shouted, drawing all attention to her. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Ona, Ale and I will go to Y/N’s and check if she’s there. If she is, we'll stay and help her out with whatever she needs. If she isn’t, we’ll come back to mine, and we think of what to do next, ok? Everyone else, you are more than welcome to come to go home with María and wait, or you can do whatever you want. I don’t really care. We’ll keep you all updated on what’s happening, yeh?”

The plan was simple, really. Everyone knew what they had to do. The anxiety in the car was high, but calm and sensible Ingrid helped break the tension. “Her cars here,” Ona pointed out, nodding her head towards your designated space. “That’s good,” Ale smiled, squeezing Ona’s shoulder, but shared a look with Ingrid. They knew that that meant little in the grand scheme of things, you often ordered an Uber to take you places instead of driving. The hallway was unusually dark as they approached your apartment door. It was shut and locked, ruling out a break-in at least. Letting themselves in, it was starkly evident that you had left in a hurry – wherever you had gone. A blanket was carelessly left on the couch, a half-drunk cold cup of tea on the counter, your wardrobe door open and hangers on the bed. You were conspicuously absent. Ona was deeply unsettled; this was not like you at all. You never left without a word. Even if you were just going to the shops, you always texted her or sent her a silly selfie – it was a habit she cherished about you. Something was seriously, truly amiss.

Seeing Lena, the stone pressing on your chest felt lifted slightly. You walked straight into her arms as you hurried through the exit. Her soft skin, cinnamon smell, warm arms, and strong heartbeat soothed the storm. “Schatz,” she cooed, not mentioning the tears she felt dropping onto her shoulder. Come on, we’ll get a taxi back to my hotel, ja?” She ushered you towards the taxi rank. It was a little awkward for you both as she kept her arm tightly around you, silently thanking the heavens that you had brought only a carry-on backpack and not an actual suitcase.

After speaking to Tommy and signing a totally unnecessary NDA, you were allowed to sit in on the Wolfsburg training. You were reluctant to leave Lena; she wanted you as close as possible. It was obvious to everyone that you were not ok as you kept your eyes trailing to the floor and a firm grip on Lena. You were always seen with your arm around her waist, her hand in yours or your head resting on her shoulder. To those who didn’t know you, it would just look like long-distance lovers finally reunited; to everyone else, though, you were clearly going through something. Jule hadn’t even said anything before pulling you into a hug, squeezing nice and tightly before passing you to Sveindís. She had just pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing the conversation as if it was normal for you to be there. Alex and Svenja had pulled you aside as you walked into breakfast the first morning you were there. When they heard from Lena that you were watching the final, they thought it would be perfect timing for the talk. They prepared a speech and everything, promising painful retribution if you stepped a foot out of line. An hour watching you and Lena interact silently, automatically knowing what the other needed without ever speaking, made them throw their plan straight out the window.

“Hey, Y/N. Can we talk for a minute?” Alex asked, putting a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up wildly at Lena, relaxing slightly as she smiled and kissed your cheek, moving away to give you privacy. “Whose behinds do we need to kick?” Svenja jumped straight to it. “Huh?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “We’ve seen the way you interact on the pitch. We’ve been in the room when you call Lena. You clearly are not yourself, so I’ll ask again. Whose needs a good kick up the bum?” It was something about the pair of them. You knew they were the motherly figures of the team, especially for Lena. She always sang their praises whenever she had the chance. You took a deep breath. “The whole of Barça?” You don’t know why you said it as a question. “Barça as in the city of Barcelona? Or just the team?” Alex quizzed “Um … well, they aren’t renewing my contract in the summer. They said they can’t afford it. But the first time either me or my agent heard about it was when they formally told us. I guess it just … knocked me a little.” You confessed. It was the first time you had explained what had happened since you first told Lena. Your heart clenched as you said the words, every syllable making it more and more real. “Oh, mausi. It’s ok.” Alex pulled you into a hug, gently squeezing you. “Take as much time as you need, ja? And talk to Obi, lean on her, let her be there for you.” Svenja added, rubbing your back comfortingly. You nodded, smiling gratefully at the two women.

You tried to keep a low profile, you successfully stayed out of the camera as you sat in the stands during Wolfsburg’s practices. You had spent most of the training looking over the documents your manager had sent over. A lot of the offers seemed really good. A very nice salary from most of them, some offered flats and houses, others offered cars and expenses. But there was one that stood out for you. It was no different than any of the other offers. But it lingered in your mind; it danced across your thoughts as you tried to fall asleep in Lena’s arms; it flicked as you ate breakfast; it appeared randomly as you waited for Lena to return from the showers. Should you? Logically, you knew you had to go somewhere. And you would have to move out of Barcelona and probably out of Spain too. There was one thing that this offer had that the others didn’t. Well, not a thing, but a person.

Inevitably, for all your efforts to hide yourself away, you were caught at the match. You had a black hoodie of Lena’s on and sunglasses, hoping it was enough to keep you from being recognised, but the fans were too good. You were picked up by hundreds of phones, all snapping photos of you. You knew it was kind of stupid to go to Lena’s match after withdrawing from your own, but you wanted to watch a football that didn’t impact you in any way beyond that of a fan. You were desperate to watch the game you loved as a fan again, to rediscover your love for the sport you dedicated your whole life to.

Ona was absolutely beside herself with worry. She was convinced you were dead. Or seriously injured, at the very least. “Si us plau, si us plau, Lucia. Por favor. Please,” she begged Lucy. For what, Lucy was unsure. “I don’t know what to do.” “I know, my love. I know.” Lucy ran her hands through Ona’s loose hair, twisting the strands around her fingers in a way she knew should bring her comfort. “What if she’s dead? I can’t lose her, not like this. Not without saying goodbye,” Ona sobbed. “She’s not, I promise you. She isn’t dead.” Despite her attempts, she didn’t know that. Not definitely. You could be lying in a ditch somewhere or in a hospital bed, unable to wake up and tell someone your name. Of course, she was worried for you, but she was more concerned for Ona. She was inconsolable. You had disappeared from her life without a trace.

Next to Lucy, her phone buzzed. She was going to ignore it; her girlfriend needed her more than whoever was messaging her. But when Ona’s tinged and then both started to ring, she sat up slightly. “Sí?” “She’s alive.” Ingrid breathed, sighing out in relief. That made Lucy sit up. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker, I’m with Oni.” “She’s alive. She’s in Germany. It’s on Instagram and Twitter. She’s at the Pokal final.” Mapí said, her tone a mix of relief and anger. “Què?” Ona sniffled, sitting up and leaning into Lucy more. “Some accounts have photos of her, it's all over social media. Ingrid’s trying to reach anyone from Wolfsburg. So’s Frido.” Mapí explained. “Lena,” Ona said, realisation dawning on her. If you were at a game in Germany, you would be watching Lena play.

Rumour: Y/F/N Y/S/N to transfer to Wolfsburg or Bayern Munich.

After being spotted at the DFB-Pokal Frauen 2024 Final, F.C. Barcelona midfielder Y/F/N Y/S/N is rumoured to make the intercontinental move next season. To which club is yet to be confirmed, but all signs point to the young player leaving Barcelona in the summer. With her presence at the Pokal Final, can we assume that she will be going to either Wolfsburg or Bayern?

Keep reading to find out more …..

Ona stared at her phone in shock. There was no way, no way in hell you were leaving Barça, especially not without telling her. You were happy here; you loved it here. Why would you go? You had friends here; you had your best friend here; you had your family here. She couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes. You weren’t leaving her, were you? It would explain why you were MIA for the past three days. Whilst she was at home, worried sick that you were lying dead in a ditch or in some ICU in a coma, your name unknown, you were off in Germany, living life and meeting your new teammates. And you had abandoned training and asked to be taken off the match squad. This couldn’t be the personal reasons you had mentioned in your text. There had to be more to it. There had to be a simple explanation. And yet, none was forthcoming. You had hopped on a plane and flew to Germany. No message, no phone call, no email. Just upped and left the country. So you could meet with your new team.

How could you do this to Ona? After all that you two had been through, after all that you had shared with each other. You were the first person she told about Lucy. You were the first person outside the Spanish national players she confessed to about what truly happened behind closed doors. You were there for her in ways no one else was or could be. And yet, you were leaving her without saying goodbye.

Leaving Lena was hard; you didn't really want to go back to Barcelona and face what was awaiting you. When you finally switched your phone back on, you were met with thousands of messages and missed calls. They started off concerned, then really worried and then they turned angry. You couldn't fault them; your behaviour was shitty. You would be just as angry if one of them had done that to you. But you needed a few days without anyone related to Barcelona. You needed the distance to clear your head and gather a game plan to present to your agent when you next spoke. You didn't even know about the article that was making its way around the internet. You weren't too big on social media unless it was to make your monthly Instagram posts. You followed the necessary people and uploaded the right things, but you didn't scroll for hours. You had been there before, been down that path and knew that only badness lay ahead. You had read the comments, seen the nastiness, heard the bitterness. So, you stayed clear, away from the world of social media trolls and online negativity. You didn't know of the absolute hell that was awaiting you.

Maybe going straight from the airport to training was a bad idea. Perhaps you should have taken the time to phone someone and let them know you were returning. Possibly, you should have spoken to Alexia and Ona first so you could explain yourself properly. Potentially you should have checked social media. But you didn’t. You didn’t do any of that.

You arrived at the training ground with your headphones in and hood up. You hurried passed reception, ignoring the glares from the receptionist and physios. You had hoped to catch Ona or Alexia before training, to pull them aside and explain everything to them (hopefully without crying).

“So, you’re transferring then?” Lucy called, her face stern and eyes blazing in anger. You hummed, confused and slightly shocked at her tone, but opted to walk straight to your cubby. “Oh, no, you don’t. Turn around.” Your headphones were still blasting music, so you never heard her. Lucy grabbed your shoulder roughly, swinging you back around to face. “What the fuck,” you flinched, pulling your headphones out and taking a step back. “You don’t get to do this. Not after I watched Ona cry herself to sleep ‘cos you were missing.” You felt your heart sink. Had she really done that? “I-” You felt guilty. You really, really felt horrible about what you had done to your … friends … ex-friends … teammates … ex-teammates. Ona especially. She was your best friend, and to see her puffy eyes and solemn expression from across the room made you feel even worse. And it bubbled up into anger. Mainly at yourself, but you couldn’t help but explode when Lucy started shouting. “Got nothing to say, have you?” She took a step closer. “We’re not good enough for you, now? You’ve found yourself a little girlfriend, and suddenly, your friends aren’t enough.” You squared up to her. “Leave Lena out of this,” you said menacingly, matching her energy. If she wanted a fight, she'd get one. “Please, you’re a fucking joke. You don’t get to waltz back in here like nothing happened. You were missing for 4 days. Not a single text to us to tell us what was going on.” “I don’t have to tell you everything.” She was right, though, and you knew it. A simple message to someone, anyone, to let them know would have solved a lot of issues. “What about Ona? Is she no longer your best friend? Or Ale, the woman who took you in when you first arrived?” She pressed. You were basically nose-to-nose at this point. “Why did you even bother coming back?” You recoiled as if she had just slapped you. It stung like she had. Why had you bothered coming back? Barça didn’t want you. And now the team didn’t want you either. “Fuck you, Bronze.” Your voice cracked slightly, your jaw clenched, and your mouth set in a harsh line. You were trying really hard not to cry. “Are you trying to burn all your bridges before you abandon us? If you are, it’s working.” She looked you up and down, the disdain in her eyes obvious. “You don’t deserve to be here anymore, let alone have us as friends.” You knew Lucy got angry when she was hurt, but hearing those words confirmed everything you already thought about yourself and this situation. Lena had spent days trying to glue your fragile mind back together, and with a single sentence, you had shattered into a thousand pieces again.

You hadn’t noticed the crowd gathering around you, the semi-circle blocking your exit and forcing you to keep up your façade. To most of the others, Lucy just echoed their hurt feelings, saying precisely what they were thinking. But Alexia and Ona could see the pain swirling behind your eyes before Lucy started the argument. The pair of them could also see your heartbreak as the words echoed around the silent changing rooms despite the mask you had on. You took a moment to gather yourself. Taking a breath, you said lowly. “You know what? If this is how you treat everyone that’s leaving, I’m glad Barça aren’t renewing my contract. I don’t want to be on a pitch with someone that thinks so little of me.”

I hope you enjoyed <3<3<3<3<3

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drvscarlett · 6 months

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About You Pt2

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: were in the 2009 season. i also grabbed some ideas from a film quote so if you notice that, hello hehe. hope you enjoy, let me know your comments

About You Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Taglist: @spideybv28 @randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama

2009, Albert Park

Moving from Toro Rosso to Red Bull has been the source of excitement of Sebastian ever since he signed the contract last December. He was excited to work with a bigger team and it opened up better opportunities for a championship which is why he feels really giddy walking to Albert Park.

"Seems like a good year for a championship?"Christian greeted Sebastian.

"I'm looking forward to that, the car feels nice"Sebastian agreed.

When the two walked to the garage, they immediately saw the Webber siblings discussing with some of the mechanics. Mark immediately waved at Sebastian.

Sebastian can tell that their dynamics improved since it was announced that they will be teammates. They spent a lot of time together in Milton Keynes so they found each other tolerable. It was surprising that now he feels a lot more closer to Mark than to Y/N.

He was actually expecting her to be around when they said Mark will be around Milton Keynes but the female Webber never showed up. Mark says that Y/N has been taking some time off since she will be busy during the season. Sebastian thinks he might be the reason why she has been absent so he felt a little relieve to see her.

"Excited for the first race of the season?" Y/N asked.

"The car seems alright, I think we can bring some good points in"Sebastian replied.

"We're gonna bring in a challenge this year, I can feel that we can compete for the drivers and constructors championship this year"Mark added

"How about Brawn, do you think they'll be a challenge?"Y/N wondered.

Sebastian heard about the team during the winter break. It was sort of a crazy story about how everything happened. He never saw Jenson or Rubens as a threat so he thinks that they might be an okay team that he doesn't have to worry about.

"They are a new team, I'm sure they won't be a threat" famous last words.

Brawn GP turns out to be a slight threat. Sebastian calls it a slight threat since this was only the first race and maybe its just their luck that they managed to pull away. They have to see how they perform in the next few races.

It was quite a bummer that Red Bull was unable to bring any points. It frustrated him heavily since he started 3rd and managed to stay 2nd the whole race until that unfortunate collision with Kubica that ruined his race.

Mark managed to finish the race but he finished 13th. Still out of the points.

As Sebastian was replaying the whole thing in his hotel room, he heard soft knocks at his door. He didn't remember ordering anything from room service so he was a bit confused as he headed to open the door.

"Hi Seb" it was Y/N "I was sent here by Mark to ask you if you want to go out and eat. You are in Australia and our family is from Australia and it will be a little bit rude if we didn't treat you out in Australia"

"That's too many Australia in one sentence"

"Have dinner with us and the family?"she simplifies "Please?"

There was not much to do anyway, Seb thinks so he accepted the offer. It might also be a good start to rekindle the friendship since its been a while since the two spoke with each other.

"You're driving?"Sebastian asked

"Of course, what kind of host am I if I'm going to make you drive"

The drive was reminiscent of Sebastian's memory when they were in Germany. Only that the view is more of beaches rather than the greens and the cold of Europe.

"I heard stories about you and Mark, it seems that you two are getting along quite well"Y/N opened up the conversation

"Oh he talks about me?"

"Well as his assistant, I have to ask about his work dynamics so yeah you have been a talking point of our conversation"

"That's nice"Sebastian smiles "How is life treating you? I didn't see you in Milton Keynes"

She lets out a heavy sigh and Sebastian could tell that there is a certain tiredness in her eyes. Maybe its true what Mark said that Y/N is actually drained from a season of F1.

"I just have to get away. A lot of pressure to deliver"

Sebastian understands that. Its probably the reason why he also tried to be understanding with Mark's situation as well. He knows that at the end of the day, the sports was brutal in one way or another. Everyone eventually gets that pressure to deliver.

"Let's not talk about f1, lets just talk about basic life things" Sebastian steered the conversation.

There was a smile gracing both of their faces because its just Sebastian and Y/N again. No last names, no championships, just them.

2009, Sepang International Circuit

"I hate wet races" Y/N confirms.

She doesn't get why everyone gets a bit excited with wet racing but she can't find how this is enjoyable for some people. Isn't the thrill of racing beyond speed limit exciting enough for them? Now they even want to race under dangerous weather conditions.

"It test your skills as a driver" Sebastian defended "Back me up here Mark"

"You're on your own Seb"was the reply of the older Webber. He did not want to take side with anyone.

The trio has been sitting at the garage waiting for the race to start. There was still 20 minutes left and Y/N has been stressing about how the dark clouds are looming over. She thinks it may start under dry conditions then go to wet in a snap.

"You can test your skills by overtaking and setting the fastest lap" Y/N noted

"Its all about strategy and taking risks"Sebastian assured.

"You better make sure that the both of you finish the race"

"No promises, Seb might hit me again"Mark joked

"Oh c'mon, I said I was sorry about that"

True enough to Y/N's prediction, the race started on the dry conditions then it ended up to be a wet race. Y/N had her fair share of wet races but this was the most terrifying for her opinion. There were puddles and the drivers can't see a thing with the rain blocking their vision.

It gotten so bad that Y/N actually went out of the driver's room to check on the status of the drivers.

"Aren't they red flagging the race?"she asked one of the mechanics

"There is still nothing from the stewards but Mark is also insisting that the race should be stopped"

Y/N was glad that she wasn't the only sane Webber around.

Just then there was a crash on screen and the weather made it very difficult for them to decipher which car spun but it was for sure a Red Bull. Y/N felt a bit comforted that it just spun without hitting anyone or anything.

"Its confirmed, that is Seb's car"

"Safety car for the lap"

"Webber is gonna ask to stop the race"

There was a flurry of emotions inside the garage. The race was stopped at lap 33 and there was the question if they will wait for it to restart or is it called off completely.

"I'm in 15th, this is not good"Sebastian was already groaning. He missed out on the points again by a big margin.

"Hey 15th is okay than dnf or being hospitalized"

Knowing Sebastian, Y/N knew he wanted to do well and it didn't seem like it was going to how Sebastian had it in his mind earlier this year. She gave him a comforting pat.

"Do you want some ice cream?"she asked

Sebastian looked at her as if she grew two heads "In this cold weather? You are asking for ice cream?"

"Ice cream heals people's boo boo" Y/N shrugged "Besides Kimi made me hungry for ice cream"

"You are crazy" Sebastian started "But c'mon lets go get some ice cream"

2009, Circuit de Catalunya

Mark: Can you see me before qualis at the back of the garage Mark: need your help, please

Sebastian never received any urgent texts from Mark so he must say that his curiosity is piqued by it. He immediately set out to meet Mark in the designated location.

"You need me?"Sebastian asked.

"Sebastian, just the person I needed" Mark seems elated to see him "Listen I need you to do me a favor"

"Okay as long as I don't have to hide a body"

"What?"

"Nevermind that. It was a joke Mark"Sebastian wanted to facepalm himself. Mark never seems to understand his humor especially when he was too excited with things.

"So May 15 is coming up. I need your help to distract my sister and maybe tour her around Spain while we do some preparation at the hotel. I just need your help to distract her for like 3-4 hours"Mark explained.

"15th?What's on the 15th?"

Sebastian was pretty sure that there was no race or other commitments that is happening on the 15th. He tries to rack his head for any important dates on the 15th but he can't remember a thing. Meanwhile, Mark looked offended that Sebastian didn't know the significance of May 15.

"Its Y/N's birthday"Mark answered.

Oh. Now that Sebastian thinks about it, Y/N never told her birthday. He felt like an idiot after realizing how they spend a lot of time together but he still haven't asked her about her birth date. But now that he knows, he makes a mental note of it.

"Okay. I think I can do that. Leave it to me"

"Thanks Seb, I owe you big time"

Seb: Are you still here at the 15th? Y/N: Why are you asking? Seb: I'm feeling adventurous. What do you say about getting lost in spain? Y/N: hmm sounds nice. Count me in.

"How long till we get there"Y/N asked.

They have driven for quite some time already and Sebastian promised that this place will be worth the wait. Sebastian will not admit it but maybe he got a little bit of lost in directions for the past 20 minutes and he is just starting to get the hang of the destination right now.

"Just a few minutes more" Sebastian assured. He can already see the spires of the building so he felt a sigh of relief escape.

"We were lost a while ago, aren't we?"

Sebastian just give out a grin as he continues to drive closer to the place. He stopped at the designated parking lot and unlocked the door.

"Adventure awaits Miss Y/N, welcome to La Sagrada Familia"Sebastian introduced.

When Sebastian was looking for a place to go, the La Sagrada Familia was one of the top hit. Sebastian didn't even consider if she is religious or what but he thinks she can appreciate the reminder that this architecture is still a work in progress and it has managed to endure a lot throughout the years of construction.

"This is beautiful" was her response.

"They say that this will be the most beautiful form of apology when it is finished"Sebastian informed "This was built for the city's sins"

"I beg to disagree"Y/N replied.

It was now Sebastian's turn to be curious.

"I think this is the grandest gesture of someone's love"Y/N elaborated "This went on for years, decades, centuries-they did not stop loving Barcelona that they continue working so that the city will be forgiven"

It was a pretty analogy in Sebastian's mind. He felt like no amount of his research could compare with that realization.

If the outside of the cathedral looks majestic, the inside is beyond what they could imagine. The both of them let out a small woah as they stepped foot into the church.

"You know you can make three wishes when its your first time to enter a church, they say it comes true when you do that"Y/N mentioned "You wanna give it a go?"

Sebastian nodded and he noticed how Y/N immediately closed her eyes.

'A world drivers championship. Happiness. Y/N receiving her wish' was what Sebastian prayed for.

He takes out a peek and Y/N was still in her own solemn state. Sebastian wonders what is it that she wishes for and he hopes that this three wishes thing works. He really wanted Y/N to fulfill her wishes, it will make him extremely happy.

"What did you wish for Y/N"

"Safe races, World Peace, and points for you and Mark" she answered

"Oh c'mon, you don't have things about yourself. Don't you have any personal wishes? Like your own goals or your own things?"Sebastian quizzed

Y/N knew deep down that she wanted something but she knew that saying it at the moment might not be ideal. But heaven knows, she prayed for Sebastian Vettel to stay in her life.

2009, Nürburgring

Y/N didn't mind that she was in heels, she was running as fast as she could to parc ferme. The moment that the last lap started and Mark was still leading, she immediately headed straight to the destination. Their father was already at the pits waiting with the signboard.

There was certainly a mix of emotions. Y/N's mind reel back to how Mark started pole and then had an incident with Hamilton at the start of the race. It caused him to have a penalty which lessens his chances of winning but Mark was in for a mega-drive. He managed to regain all the places that he lost from the penalty and here he is leading the Grand Prix.

Y/N felt her ears ringing as the crowd roars as the chequered flag appeared. Every speaker was blaring out the obvious, this is Mark Webber's first win in Formula 1.

People are starting to line up near the barricades. Y/N doesn't care if she was being pushed but she will be the first one to meet her brother and congratulate him once he gets out of the car.

"YOU DID IT! YOU ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED IT" Y/N screamed to Mark.

Mark did not miss his sister and immediately hugged her tight. He kept on repeating his thanks for her support and for not giving up on him. Y/N could only choke on a sob with the cameras flashing the emotional sibling moment that they shared.

"Congratulations Mark"Sebastian appeared next to him and Mark gave him a hug.

It was a happy day for the Red Bull team for securing double podiums. The whole Red Bull team cannot contain their happiness as the two walked to their podium spots. It is certainly a day that warrants a much needed night out.

So fast forward and Red Bull rented out a club to celebrate the victory of today. Y/N was certain that she deserved to let loose a little with the events that happened today.

Shots after shots, Y/N managed to drink everything up until the room started to feel a little bit wavy. It was a good thing that Sebastian has not been much of a party animal, he knew that this was Mark's time to celebrate so he won't be taking too much of a spotlight.

"You are seriously wasted, you should stop drinking now" Sebastian said, catching Y/N before she could trip in her heels.

"my brother won, can't you believe ittttt"her words are slurred.

"Yep, I'm getting you water and were going back to the hotel"

"NOOOOOO"

But Sebastian has already carried her out of the club. Sebastian knew that there are probably much more people wasted there but Sebastian was focused on Y/N. She was the reason why Sebastian decided to sober up the entire night. Knowing that Mark will be celebrating, no one will take care of Y/N.

Sebastian wanted to take care of her.

The trip to the hotel was smooth as Y/N was asleep at the car. Sebastian was giggling when he picked her up and she started rambling about how there are different kinds of beautiful in formula 1.

"But you know what's the most beautiful thing in f1 that I have seen?" she asked "Its the time where I saw Sebastian Vettel test the car"

Sebastian got curious, he didn't know that Y/N was around when he tested the car.

"And it was so dreamy. There was this beauty about him and you know he is so passionate. He isn't a paid driver or maybe he is but damnnnn the way he raced and the way he loved the wheels"Y/N rambles on.

It feels illegal for Sebastian to be hearing this and he knows he should not take advantage of Y/N's truthful drunkness to hear what she thinks about him. But somehow, Sebastian stayed with her. He tucked her in the bed and left a glass of water at the bedside table.

"Did you know Sebastian Vettel is the prettiest boy ever. He is so pretty like how the sun is so pretty to the plants" Sebastian also laughed at the comparison. Y/N was really really drunk.

"I like Sebastian"

"What?" was Sebastian's shocked question.

"I like sebastian, what sue me? I think he is a pretty pretty boy"

Sebastian feels like his heart is pounding but he has to stay cool. She is drunk right now and she might not be aware of the things she is saying.

"You get some rest, lets talk about this in the morning" Sebastian said as he left the girl.

It took every ounce of his being to prevent himself from confessing that he likes her a lot too. But Sebastian will do his confession sober. If Y/N remembers this incident then they will talk about it. If not, he will wait for the right timing to discuss the feelings he has for her.

Morning came and Y/N did not remember anything.

#sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #sebastian vettel x oc

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ittsybittsybunny · 7 months

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ATLA Live Action Series Review:

The Good

Aesthetically this show felt right. Sure sometimes the outfits didn't quite feel lived in, but I always felt like I was watching a fantasy world with decent effects and interesting design. Also, I really enjoyed the sets!

Bending: Yes some of the fights feel very quick, but the bending looks cool. It is certainly better than 10 benders lifting one big rock. I can honestly say the opening bending fight scene gave me so much hope for this show.

Kyoshi Warriors: I loved seeing them in live action, and I thought Suki's performance was great!

Omashu: I think the mashup of the mechanist made sense since that is an important character overall and I would hate to see him cut. However, both Jet & the secret tunnels felt sloppily thrown in.

Northern Water Tribe: I really loved the way it looked, and appreciated the two episodes we spent here. I think Yue gained more agency in this interpretation, and why shouldn't the moon spirit be a waterbender. Also, episode seven felt the most in tune with the original show's spirit.

Zuko: I think he was one of the most fleshed-out and best parts of the show! Dallas Liu really captured Zuko's spirit, and the scene between him and Aang in episode 6 was wonderful!

Soundtrack: Hearing the original soundtrack bits is always great, and when I first heard the ending music I was so excited.

Is the show perfect, no - but I wouldn't mind a season 2.

The Bad

Pacing: Turning 20 episodes into 8 was bound to lead to some cuts...but oftentimes times things felt too quick or disjointed. I think there were editing problems contributing to this for sure, but sometimes things skipped around too much without a clear purpose as to why. Also, why bring in plots from later seasons when you barely have enough time already?

Writing: This show definitely suffered from exposition dumping, though it did get better as time went on. I think the biggest example of this is actually opening in the past rather than the present. We do not get to learn along with Aang that the world has changed, instead, we get to learn that 100 years have passed....which doesn't hold the same tension or worldbuilding.

Clunky Dialogue: Along with exposition, clunky dialogue is another example of bad writing. I think sometimes I felt like the acting was kind of meh in the beginning, but then over time I began to realize it had far more to do with the lines characters were trying to deliver. The actors themselves are not bad, just cursed with awkward writing and lines that feel out of touch with the setting they're in.

Main Trio: I don't entirely know that I believe Katara, Sokka, and Aang are friends as opposed to 3 people stuck together to save the world. Aang feels a little too somber for a young kid running away from his responsibilities, Sokka is protective, but not exactly the heart of the team, and Katara is sort of just there until the last two episodes. Where is her struggle, her desire to learn so strong she steals from pirates? Also, while Gordon Cormier did a great job, Aang does zero waterbending on his own, is overly serious, and tells Katara not to fight. Where is his desperation to protect his friends? It feels like they all lost emotional depth.

Tension: Bringing Ozai, Azula, and Zhao out in the beginning immediately causes us to lose the realization there is an even bigger bad. Part of why Ozai is so terrifying is he is a primarily silent villain until the third season when we finally see the face of the "big bad evil guy" behind it all. Yes, they add to Zuko's backstory, but again, they are revealing the villains too early. Azula is the antagonist of season 2 and one of my favorite characters, so I hope they do more with her in the future. Finally, Zhao is supposed to be an example of the uncontrollable nature of fire unrestrained, instead, he comes off as vaguely threatening with the supposed true power being Azula.

Characterization: While all characters are bound to lose something in a shorter show, it still felt like certain characters were more mutilated than others. I am sure there are 100 different opinions on who, but I think the biggest victim was Katara.

Katara: Katara manages to go from a complete novice to a bending master in what feels like a matter of days. The journey feels short, and that makes the results feel largely unearned. Katara is one of the strongest personalities in the show, determined, kind, and fiery. In many ways, she is the unpredictability of water - equally dangerous as it is necessary to live. She is the child of a war who lost her mother, forced to grow up too soon, and even raised her older brother. Yes, Katara often gets stereotyped as the mom friend, but overall she feels underutilized in this show. We really don't see enough of her journey until the very end.

Iroh: Iroh was always comedic but most importantly wise. Even when Zuko is trying to give himself advice, he mimics Iroh. Instead, he seems to be used more as comedic relief without the underlying experience. He just doesn't feel right. Also, he kills Zhao instead of Zhao getting himself killed - which is less about Iroh and more about the writing than anything.

Ozai is weirdly a little too nice. Yes, he burned Zuko and pits his kids against each other, but he feels toned down in a show claiming to be more mature than the original cartoon.

Azula is perhaps more realistically worried about losing her status as the golden child, but she is also missing the cruelty she and her father share. I understand worrying about making your character cartoonishly evil, but the Fire Nation is currently a deeply nationalistic empire trying to control the world. Where is the deep-seated belief that they are better than other people, not just trying to bring balance to the world? There is a line between creating complexity and toning down the very real evil inherent in this plan.

Roku: I can only say what the fuck was that. He was barely there, and not the serious master to Aang's youthful exuberance.

The Ugly

Show, Don't Tell: The show's single biggest issue seems to be speeding through story parts by simply stating things. Instead of allowing the audience to discover, trusting that we are smart enough to understand, let's just blatantly say things like Zuko is the only reason the 41st division is alive to their faces. Even though in the context of the story Ozai literally already said that.... it's the division, the division for Zuko, Zuko's division.

Thematic Misunderstandings: I think this show makes several minor changes with major implications, such as airbenders actively fighting the firebenders, when airbenders are known for their pacifist nature and the lie of an Airbender fighting force is actively propaganda. Similarly, Aang very quickly accepts his role as the avatar and doesn't even run away in the beginning. Without this conflict between his desire to be a carefree child and the fact that the world needs him - the show loses a key aspect of Aang's character. Also, the obsession with downplaying the avatar state as something dangerous feels like a disservice to the tradition, connection, and strength of the avatar, which can be permanently destroyed as the trade-off for that kind of power. It's dangerous for the balance of the entire world, not just because it's powerful!

The Agni Kai: Zuko's fight against his father is one of the defining moments of Ozai's cruelty, not just because he is willing to fight his child, but because Zuko tried to do everything right. Zuko shows deference to his father, apologizes, and most importantly refuses to fight! The determination not to upset his father and still be grievously injured and banished is a hugely important theme for the fire nation and Zuko's life as a whole. He tries to do everything he is supposed to and only regains his father's acceptance after he "kills" Aang. Zuko's struggle between moral vs. social right and wrong in contrast to his family is hugely important to his character.

-----

TLDR: ATLA was a fantastical animated television show that was never afraid to show character development and flaws. When you turn 20 episodes into 8, you are bound to lose something. You hollowed out the middle, leaving the shell of important moments and events without ever wondering if all the times in between formed the true spirit of the show.

Rating: 6.5/10 It's perfectly fine and worth a watch. Not a disaster, but certainly falls flat of the original.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender tv #atla tv #spoilers #natla #i loved it i hated it i mostly sat through it #i would like a season 2 though #aang #katara #sokka #zuko #iroh #uncle iroh #azula #ozai

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hoe4sports · 19 days

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How this ends p5

Fridolina Rolfo ft Alexia Putellas x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 alternate

Author’s note: Here is the ending to the “how this ends”. I hope you have enjoyed my series, and that you keep reading my stories.

Warning: non

Summary: Alexia tries to repair what she once broke.

After coming home from your trip to Sweden with Fridolina, Alexia had begged you to come see her. At first, you bluntly refused. Never again, you promised yourself. But then. the leafes turned brown, and the ocean changed into a temperature only a fisherman could handle swimming in. Just like the seasons changed, you came around and agreed to meet her.

Picking a spot to meet her wasnt as easy as it seems. She suggested to meet up at her place, but you refused. You decided that meeting up in what once was your own homes would remind you of too many good memories and you would end up forgiving her on the spot.

Meeting up at Fridolina's place, just felt inapropriate. You had too many good memories with her to ruin your peace. It wasnt like you still loved Alexia. You loved her, but like the number of dates she took you to declined, so did your feelings for her. Fridolina picked up the pieces of what Alexia broke, and she worked hard every single day to glue it back togeter.

Arriving at the cafe, you immediately spotted Alexia among the tables. You felt your heart drop to your gut at the sight of her. She was wearing a cap covering her dark baggy eyes as she looked down. Her outfit didn’t resemble something Alexia would normally wear, only a plain pair of jeans with a stain and a white t-shirt.

Even though you felt less affected by the breakup by the day, just like your wounds had started closing up: they definitely hadn’t healed. You felt like your stomach was about to twist inside out, and tried to take a deep breath which only ended in you suppressing a yawn that turned into an embarrassingly squeak.

Alexia immediately shot her head up in your direction before practically tumbling out of her chair. Her frame moved towards you with her hands reached out in your direction. You looked at her hands. The gesture was out of pure routine after spending 13 years together. When she reached you, you gave her an apologetic look and she pulled her hands in, slightly redder in the face.

“hi” you tried to say confidently, but it ended up being more of a whisper. “Hola” she whispered back.

The pair of you standing completely dumbfounded in the middle of the cafe surrounded by couples and families. The tension was thick, and it made you feel like you were on display for the whole cafe to see. “Wanna walk?” Alexia asked, but it ended up being more a telling you instead of a suggestion.

It’s odd, you think. You haven’t seen Alexia since before the summer. Now, it’s late September. Everything is different now. It’s has all changed. Eventually, you moved out of Frido’s apartment into your own home. A place with only one tooth brush, one hairbrush and one water bottle. A home where you could eat lasagna on a Wednesday because you didn’t need to cook for an athlete.

As you walk quietly on the gravel listening to nothing but your shoes hitting the rocks; the sound of the silence becomes unbearable. “How are you?” Alexia spills out. You raise your brow at her. Did she really just ask how I am, you think to yourself while internally rolling your eyes.

“I’m feeling pretty good. Going to Sweden this summer and staying with Fridolina’s family really really helped.” You practically spit the words at her.

A part of you feels good saying that harsh truth to her, to be brutally honest, but a part of you does still love Alexia. You see the hurt on her face, but she hurt you. She chose this for you, and she dosent get to slip away from the responsibility of the situation.

“What’s the deal with Frido? Why do you car-“

“Listen, Alexia. I’m gonna be transparent here. I’m only here because I wanted to tell you in person, before it comes out through media; I’m seeing Fridolina.”

“It’s kinda hard not seeing her when you stay at her place, no?” Alexia laughs.

Your eyes tear up.

“I love her, Alexia. I’m in love with Fridolina.”

After your walk with Alexia, that was cut short because of your confession; you retreated hom to Frido. The only issue with what you had just confessed to Alexia, was that you hadn’t confessed your feelings to the girl you were in love with.

When you got home, you immediately popped yourself into the couch lying down on your belly. You let out an audible sigh before laying your head down. Why did it feel like a conflict of interest?

You knew that you loved Frido, and you had loved her since you woke up from mourning your relationship. Frido had been there every step of the way. Always patient, always kind and always good. Frido was the greater woman. She was just perfect.

Abrudly, you were cut off from your own thoughts when Frido suddenly appeared from the corner. The pair of you both let out a scared scream before laughing at each other.

“Sötnos, how was your walk with Alexia? Did you get any answers?”

Frido moved towards you before sitting down next to your head. Her hands running through your somewhat knotted hair from the wind at the park.

“Yes”

You sat yourself up, looking straight into Fridolina’s blue sparkling eyes.

“Not to be noisy, but. And?”

You moved towards her face, gently reaching your fingertips towards her face. Your face just centimetres from the Swede.

“And…” you repeated silently, barely whispering trying to catch your breath.

“Y/n? What did you talk about? The cat? A possible regroup? Fill me in please! And what?”

The way Frido’s natural curiosity kicked in had you grinning at her. You looked at Frido’s lips before looking at her eyes again. Your hand tucking away a few strands of her blonde hair. A soft smile on your face leaning towards her ear before whispering softly:

“And, I love you, Fridolina Rölfo”

You and Frido had just come home from Mapi and Ingrid’s when you felt a sudden overwhelming feeling of missing your cat. Your tears were dripping, softly hitting Frido’s couch while looking at your phone. The screen was showing you your cat’s adorable little face. Alexia always complained about how many pictures you took of the little guy, but you loved him to pieces. She always complained about cat litter. How expensive cat food was. How expensive taking him to the vet was. How he couldn’t be in your bedroom or in the kitchen. But you didn’t care. He had never betrayed you, so you never betrayed him.

You looked at his sweet little face while swiping to the next picture. It was a picture of him sleeping on your chest while you were fast asleep aswell. The next picture was your cat with a flower on his head. After the flower picture, a video of him chasing a robotic fish popped up. Your tears kept pressing while you laughed at yourself.

“YN? You will never guess what Mapi just texted me! Oh, are you crying?” Fridolina said as she barged in clearly in shock. You looked up at her, and she was already moving towards you in the speed of lightning. Her hands reached out to you as she arrived at the couch and your hands immediately intertwined with hers.

“I.. It’s just silly, don’t worry about it”

“Skatt, it’s never silly if something makes you cry. I always worry about you. Is there anything I can do to help? Hell, I’ll find a way to catch the moon if that is what you want.”

You flashed your screen towards Frido who looked back at your black cat.

“Is it your cat?”

“It was, but he lives with Alexia now. She refuses to give him to me..”

“Do you want him back?”

“Yes, what kind of question is that? Of course I do”

“Okay; you get what you want, love.”

“But there will be cat litter, he has midnight zoomies and he loves to yell, AND you don’t even like cats?”

“If he makes you happy, then I’ll find a way to get him to you. I’ll be any type of animal person for you. Maybe not a spider or a snake, but a cat? No issues there!”

“But, Alexia dosent want to let him go”

“Don’t worry about the practicality, I’ll sort it out”

The next day, Frido arrives from training with her bag and your cat in a carrier, making you feel happier and more grateful than ever for finding someone that loves you the way you love them.

—

Your eyes filled with tears while looking down on the woman in front of you on one knee with a velvet box in her hands. The idea of marriage, a big grand wedding with all of the people the you loved was something that had lingered in your head since you saw your mum in her wedding dress back when you were 6. Since that moment, you knew you wanted marriage.

Frido’s blue eyes were sparkling reflections the stars in the dark sky above her. She had gone above and beyond to make the proposal special. With the help of Ingrid, she had planned a secret trip for you to Lake Como where she planned to purpose by the gate to heaven at the date of your 3 year anniversary. Frido being Frido, didn’t stop there.

“Y/N, from bestfriends to girlfriends. You are the light of my life. The last years with you have been the best years of my life. I might not have gotten the chance to grow up with you, but I’m ready to grow old with you. Y/N, will you please do me the honour of marrying me?”

“Yes, Fridolina. Yes, yes, yes!” You cheered before throwing yourself around her. She caught you and spun you around in circles. It felt exactly like a scene from a romantic movie. Then, it was time for the ring. It was sparkly and grand, but elegant and classy. It was exactly what you wanted. You looked into Frido’s eyes as she slid the ring on your finger while tears of joy were rolling down your cheeks.

«Its perfect, its everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” You say as your tears spill down your cheeks while framing Frido’s cheeks with your hands.

“You deserve it, you are so good to me. You are perfect, everything I could’ve ever dreamed of. I would be a fool miss out on trying to wife you up” the last comment made you giggle leaving a smile of your fiancé’s face.

She then reached around her back and somehow pulled out a bouquet of flowers. Not roses, you don’t care much for roses. Alexia would buy you roses, and you’d say “thank you”. But you don’t care for roses. The flowers Frido picked out for you, were bluebells: your favourite. A flower that was rare in the nature, even rarer in shops. The gesture brought tears to your eyes.

“Close your eyes, baby” Frido commanded before she put her hands carefully on top of your eyes.

“There is more?” You whisper, a hushed cry chocking your sob. You felt slightly confused, but you trusted her. She turned you around to face another direction. Music started playing, or rather a live band started playing Ed Sheeran’s “perfect”. Her hands dropped from your eyes and you immediately opened them. There, just 50 meters away from you; You and Frido’s families and friends, 60 people flown in from all over the world to be there on your special day. Your nearest friends came sprinting towards you before wrapping you into a hug knowing that all the pain was worth it.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #barca femini x reader #woso x r #alexia putellas x reader #fridolina rolfo x reader

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doctorbitchcrxft · 1 month

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All Hell Breaks Loose | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, dean's lowk suicidal, dealing with trauma from a sexual assault please please please take care of yourselves!!!

Word Count: 4442

A/N: I combined episodes pt. 1 and 2! Enjoy!!!

As a result of things going on in my personal life, the start of my season 3 release has been delayed for a month from now. I just want to give myself some extra time to make sure the season is perfect for y'all! i hope you understand. see ya real soon. <3

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After the Djinn captured you, your relationship with Dean was beginning to heal. You still couldn’t bring yourself to have sex with him despite knowing he would never treat you the way the guard had. Slowly, you became more comfortable with him initiating touch, in contrast to the way you’d previously been tensing under it for the past several weeks.

You reclined in the backseat humming along to the radio as the Impala rolled to a stop in front of a small diner.

“Hey, don’t forget the extra onions this time, huh?” Dean told his brother while he handed him some money.

“Dude, we’re the ones who’re gonna have to ride in the car with your extra onions,” Sam sighed, getting out of the car.

Dean grinned and leaned to look at Sam. “Hey, see if they’ve got any pie.”

Sam glared at him and shut the door.

“Bring me some pie!” Dean begged. “I love me some pie,” he murmured to himself.

You giggled at your best friend and closed your eyes, leaning against the back of the seat. Your solace was broken soon after by the car’s radio going static. When you sat up, the café was seemingly empty.

Without needing to look at Dean, you grabbed your gun from under the seat and ran into the building. Upon entering, you discovered a customer in a booth, dead, lying face down in a puddle of his own blood.

“Sam?” Dean called.

You moved around the counter to find the employees also dead behind it, their throats slit. Dean opened the door behind the counter and looked around outside. “Sam?!”

You noticed something on the door. “Dean, sulfur.”

Dean’s eyes widened in panic, and he raced back out to the car. “Sam? Sammy!”

“Dean, he’s not here—” you lamented.

He cut you off by bellowing, “Sam!”

“Dean, passenger’s seat,” you ordered.

“Wh—”

“You’re in no condition to drive. Do as I say,” you commanded.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but his shaken nerves wouldn’t let him. Expertly, you quickly got out of the parking lot and back out onto the road.

“Call Bobby,” you instructed Dean, and he did so.

“Bobby,” Dean said. “It’s got Sam. I don’t— We need help killin’ this son of a bitch, man. And I’m gonna kill ‘im myself. Damn it!” He slammed his hand on the dashboard, and you shot him a concerned glance out of the corner of your eye.

You motioned for Dean to give you the phone. “Hey, it’s (Y/N).”

“Hey, kid. What’s goin’ on?” Bobby asked through the phone.

“I have no clue,” you replied honestly. “We literally just stopped at a diner, the radio went static, and everyone in the place wound up dead. No trace of Sam. Sulfur on the door, though.”

“Damn it,” Bobby muttered. “I’ll meet ya halfway. Where are you?”

“Uh, somewhere in Iowa,” you replied.

“Alright. Just drive like you’re headin’ to my place. Take US-20 and I-29 and I’ll call you about two hours from now.”

“Got it,” you replied. “Thanks, Bobby.”

“Dean, you’ve gotta keep your head, man,” you urged him.

“I am,” he grunted.

You shot him a questioning, deadpan look. “Really.”

He said nothing in response.

“Call Ash for me.” You handed him your phone from your back pocket, so you didn’t have to look while you drove.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Ash said once you’d gotten ahold of him.

You laughed. “Hey, Ash. Listen, would love to catch up, but we’re in deep shit right now.”

“How deep? Like, trash compactor deep or Sarlac pit deep?”

“Sarlac,” you responded.

“Damn,” he muttered. “What’s happenin’?”

***

“This is it. All demonic signs and omens over the past month,” Bobby told you and Dean. You’d met each other just off the highway and laid out a map on the hood of the Impala.

“Are you joking? There’s nothing here,” Dean scoffed.

“Exactly.”

“Well, come on, there’s gotta be something. What about the, the, the normal, low-level stuff? You know, exorcisms, that kind of thing,” Dean pressed.

“Dean, I think that would’ve been the first thing he looked for,” you gently reminded him. Bobby nodded.

“Well, how are we supposed to look for Sam? What, do we just close our eyes and point?” Dean gruffly snarked.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

“Ash, what do you got?” you asked, picking up your phone.

“Okay, listen, it’s a big negatory on Sam,” Ash said quietly.

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair.

“I did find something, though,” he whispered.

“Ash? You okay?” you asked.

“I can’t talk over this line, (Y/N).”

“Oh,” you said. “Okay. We’ll come to you, then.”

“What? No!” Dean grabbed the phone from you. “Come on, Ash, I don’t have time for this!” A moment later, Dean pulled your phone away from his ear. Ash had apparently hung up on him. “I guess we’re going to the Roadhouse. Come on.”

***

Bobby drove a little ahead of you and Dean in the Impala. You were still driving due to the fact that you didn’t want Dean’s reckless driving to get the both of you killed before you could help Sam.

When you arrived at the Roadhouse, though, all you found was a pile of charred wood and ash.

“What the hell?” you breathed out.

You got out of the car and headed toward where the bar had once stood. You stepped over debris looking around for any sign of Ash, Ellen, or Jo. You were pretty sure Jo was still working at that bar Meg had found her at, but you knew that somewhere in the rubble would be the bodies of Ash and Ellen.

“Oh, my god,” Bobby muttered. He stepped up behind you.

“You see Ellen?” Dean asked you and Bobby.

“No. No Ash, either,” Bobby replied.

You pulled in a sharp breath upon noticing Ash’s watch in a pile of rubble. “Oh, fucking hell,” you breathed out.

“Oh, Ash, damn it!” Dean grunted.

You couldn’t take standing in the debris anymore. You moved back to the Impala and leaned against it, facing away from where the Roadhouse once stood.

Bobby walked up behind you a moment later. “This is…” he trailed off.

“What the hell did Ash know? We’ve got no way of knowing where Ellen is. Or if she’s even alive. We’ve got no clue what Ash was gonna tell us. Now, how the hell are we gonna find Sam?” Dean questioned, pacing between you and Bobby.

“I don’t know, Dean, but we’re gonna, okay?” you said.

Suddenly, Dean clutched his head in pain.

“Dean?” you asked.

He groaned and doubled over. You rushed to catch him before he collapsed to the ground. Dean suddenly stood back up, still furrowing his brow and clutching his head.

“What was that?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t know. A headache?” Dean guessed.

Bobby scoffed. “You get headaches like that a lot?”

“No. Must be the stress,” he chuckled. “I could have sworn I saw something.”

“What do you mean? Like a vision? Like what Sam gets?” Bobby asked, interest piqued.

“What? No!”

“Dean, what’d you see?” you asked.

Suddenly, he doubled over again.

“Dean!”

The older Winchester fell against you in pain.

“Dean! Hey!” you said, grabbing the side of his face.

“I saw Sam,” Dean panted, suddenly coming to. “I saw him, (Y/N).”

“It was a vision,” Bobby said.

“Yeah. I don’t know how, but yeah. Whew. That was about as fun as getting kicked in the jewels,” Dean chuckled.

“What else did you see?” you asked.

“Uh,” he thought for a moment, “there was a bell.”

“What kind of bell?” you asked.

“Like a big bell with some kind of engraving on it, I don’t know,” Dean shook his head.

“Wait, engraving?” you questioned. “Was it a tree? Like, an oak tree?”

Dean seemed surprised and confused. “Yeah, exactly.”

“I know where Sam is,” you said. “Cold Oak, South Dakota. It’s the most, like, notoriously demonic town ever. All the inhabitants fled. It’s surrounded by miles of woods.”

“Okay, well, let’s go,” Dean urged, immediately moving to the driver’s side of the Impala.

“Wait, Dean—” you tried.

“No, (Y/N), I’m driving.” Dean left no room for protesting.

You slipped into the driver’s seat wordlessly, shooting a concerned look at Bobby. He returned it, but nodded to reassure you.

The drive to Cold Oak was completed mostly in silence, clutching the door handle as Dean sped well over the speed limit.

“Dean,” you tried about two hours into the drive.

“Hm.”

You reached out for his hand to wordlessly support him. He returned your gesture and squeezed your hand, offering a stiff, tight-lipped smile. You knew he appreciated your support, even though he couldn’t verbally express it.

***

Night had fallen by the time you reached the town of Cold Oak. With guns shouldered, you trudged through miles of woods. Suddenly, you came to the edge of the town. You saw Sam fighting with a man in an army uniform, who he knocked on the ground.

“Sam!” Dean called as the three of you hurried toward him.

Sam smiled, “Dean!”

Suddenly, you saw the man on the ground behind him get up and grab a knife from the ground next to him. “Sam, look out!” you cried, running toward him.

The man drove the knife through Sam’s back.

“No!” Dean screamed, and your concern for Sam was quickly replaced by anger and hatred toward the man who’d twisted the knife in the younger brother’s back.

You sprinted after him, running as fast as your legs could possibly carry you. Just before the man reached the tree line, you stopped and raised your shotgun. You barely had time to aim before you needed to take your shot, otherwise he would disappear into the trees and become impossible to find. You fired once, then reloaded, then fired again. Your heart dropped when you realized you missed him.

“Fuck!” you cursed.

“(Y/N)! Get your ass back here!” Bobby called.

You ran back to where Bobby stood over a crying Dean on his knees holding a slumped over Sam.

“Oh, Jesus, his back’s bleedin’ really bad,” you said. “Dean, hold on, I’ll just go back to the car ‘n—”

“He’s gone, (Y/N),” Bobby said gently. “Sam’s gone.”

“Oh, my god,” you cried. Tears began to stream down your face as you fell to your knees next to the boys. Dean refused to let go of his brother, and you put your head against Sam’s shoulder, crying silently. You hugged Dean with your left arm to try and support him and brushed a hand over Sam’s hair with the other. “Oh, god,” you murmured into the back of Sam’s shoulder. You sniffled and suddenly remembered you needed to be strong for Dean. You rose from the floor and wiped your eyes. “Um, let’s get him into that inn. Gotta be a mattress in there. We can, uh, lay him down till we figure out what to do with him.”

“We’re not doin’ anything with him, (Y/N),” Dean warned firmly.

“Still, c’mon,” you said, beginning to help Dean get his brother’s body up the stairs of the building. You laid him on a mattress in the corner of a room on the second floor.

You sat wordlessly on the bed, resting your hand below Sam’s knee, and Dean sat in a chair he’d pulled up to the side of the mattress.

Neither of you said anything for hours until Bobby returned.

“Dean? Brought this back for you and (Y/N),” Bobby said hesitantly, holding up a bucket of fried chicken.

“No, thanks. I'm fine,” Dean replied.

“You should eat something,” you urged, taking the bucket from Bobby. “Thanks, by the—”

Dean cut you off harshly. “I said I’m fine.” He took a swig from the bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“Dean…” Bobby trailed off. “I hate to bring this up, I really do. But don't you think maybe it's time... we bury Sam?”

“No,” Dean nearly growled.

You tried your best to speak gently. “Dean, I think we should. I get it if you don’t wanna do a hunter’s funeral, but—”

“Hell no, (Y/N). Stop.”

“I want you to come with me,” Bobby said.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Dean replied.

“Dean, please,” you begged.

“Would you cut me some slack?” He stood from his chair.

“I just don't think you should be alone, that's all. I gotta admit, I could use your help,” Bobby explained.

Dean snorted coldly.

“Something big is going down— end-of-the-world big,” Bobby continued.

Dean yelled, turning to Bobby, “Then let it end!”

You shook your head. “You don’t mean that.”

“You don't think so? Huh?” Dean was suddenly in your face.

You held your ground. “Back up, Dean.”

Dean didn’t listen, continuing to chastise you. “You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough? I'm done with it. All of it. And if you know what's good for you, you'd turn around, and get the hell out of here.”

Bobby stepped closer to the two of you. “Dean, she’s just trying to—”

Dean suddenly shoved Bobby. “Go!” he roared.

You shoved Dean back before he could do anything else he’d regret. “Hey! When you’re ready to get in control of yourself, you fucking let us know. Let’s go, Bobby.”

You turned on your heel, Dean muttering shocked apologies that grew more distant as you left the inn.

*** You and Bobby sat in silence in his living room, each nursing a beer.

“It’s a little early for drinking, but hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” you’d said when you retrieved a beer from Bobby’s fridge, trying to raise your own spirits.

“Bobby, I know Dean,” you started, staring at the ground. “I’m scared he’s gonna do somethin’ stupid.”

“Don’t worry, kid, I’ll send him straight to hell if he does,” Bobby responded.

You tried to laugh, but even your laugh sounded sad. Silence fell between the two of you for a moment.

“This really isn’t good, Bobby,” you murmured. “Not even just for Dean. Sam’s my best friend. He reminds me of my little brother so much sometimes it’s scary. I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do without him. I don’t even wanna talk to Dean right now after the way he treated both of us—”

Bobby tried to cut you off. “(Y/N), he’s grievin’—”

“I don’t care! You don’t treat people like that,” you replied. “I’m pissed at him. But he’s all I got left aside from you. It’s like everyone I ever care about ends up dead. My parents, my brother, now Sam.”

“Kid, I think that’s every hunter,” Bobby coaxed. “How much family do I got? How much does Dean have? This line of work, nobody gets out without losin’ someone.”

You nodded, staring at the ground thoughtfully still. “It just sucks, man. I want Dean to be happy. I want you to be happy. I wanna be happy. I mean, that Djinn gave me a taste of what my life would be like without hunting, and I still wasn’t satisfied. Maybe I’m just not meant to be happy.”

“It’s all in what you make of it. It’s not fun by any means, but I’d take this life over normal any day.”

You nodded. “Me, too.” *** Later, you were shooting beer cans off the top of a fence to blow off some steam. Nothing was seeming to work, though. You noticed some sandbags Bobby had piled against the side of the garage and hurled your gun at it. Chest heaving, you picked up one of the bags and threw it to the ground. You got down on top of it and punched over and over and over again until your knuckles bled and bruised. Your hands shook as you looked down at them, tears streaming down your face. You let yourself scream out in frustration with everything that had been happening these last few weeks. First, the prison guard. Then, the Djinn, and now, you’d lost your best friend. And you were surely about to lose another one. Whichever direction this was going to send Dean, it wasn’t going to end up being good.

You sat in the yard behind Bobby’s house for hours until stars started to appear in the sky. Numbly, you moved back into Bobby’s house. Bobby was nowhere around, and you settled for sleeping on his surprisingly comfortable couch with a crocheted blanket wrapped around your body. You curled into yourself and eventually settled into a dreamless sleep.

***

A knock on the door pulled your attention away from your journal. Your socked feet padded across the floor to your shoes, and then to the door. You opened it and nearly gasped in surprise at the sight of Sam standing in front of you with Dean.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Dean said.

You turned in an attempt to wordlessly communicate with the older brother, but he looked away almost immediately.

“Sam,” you breathed out.

“Hey, (Y/N/N).” Sam wrapped you in a hug, stepping into Bobby’s kitchen. You tried to relax into your friend’s embrace, but you couldn’t at the horrible thought of what Dean may have done to himself to get Sam back.

“Sam,” Bobby suddenly sid from behind you. “It's good to... see you up and around.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. He looked back down at you when he pulled away from your hug. “Thanks for patching me up.”

“Don’t mention it,” you replied; the words feeling more reflexive to you than having any true weight to them. You tried to resist staring Dean down, but he seemed to be getting the message nonetheless.

“Well Sam's better. And we're back in it now, so... what do you know?” Dean chuckled.

“Dean,” you spat. “Outside. Now.”

Sam seemed confused, but you marched out the front door with no explanation.

As soon as you made it far enough away from the house that Sam couldn’t see you through the window, you wheeled around to face Dean. “What the fuck did you do?!” you yelled, gripping the edges of his jacket resting against his chest.

“(Y/N)—”

Hot, angry tears streamed down your face. “What did you do, you fucking idiot? You made a deal? Huh?”

“I couldn’t just let him die, (Y/N),” Dean uttered.

“That’s exactly what you were supposed to do! How do you think Sam’s gonna feel when he finds out, huh?! Because I know you didn’t tell him,” you argued. “I cannot believe you!” You turned away from him and ran a hand through your hair. “How long did they give you?”

“(Y/N)—”

“How long, Dean?”

“One year.”

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut.

“Which is why we gotta find this yellow-eyed son of a bitch. That's why I'm gonna kill him myself. I mean, I got nothing to lose now, right?” the man continued.

You wheeled back around to him, eyes blazing. “Nothing to lose?”

“I'm not even supposed to be here, (Y/N)!” Dean protested. “My dad died for me. At least this way, something good could come out of it, you know? I-I— It's like my life could mean something.”

“What, and it didn’t before?! You seriously think that little of yourself?” you questioned angrily. “Fuck you, Dean!”

“(Y/N), please—”

You cut Dean off. “No! Don’t tell me to understand. Because I can’t. I fucking knew you’d do something like this.”

“Why does it bother you so much?!” Dean roared, stepping closer to you.

“Because I love you, goddammit!” You stumbled back from him when you realized what you’d just admitted. Stunned, you brushed past him to go grab your bag from inside Bobby’s house.

“(Y/N)!” Dean called after you, but you wouldn’t turn back. You continued to the house, wordlessly grabbed your bag from next to the couch, and headed out to Bobby’s garage.

“(Y/N), where are you—” Bobby started.

You cut him off. “I’ll call you later.”

You grabbed one of the sets of keys off the wall of Bobby’s garage, hoping the car worked, and marched out to it. Thankfully, the sedan started, and you pulled away from the junkyard.

Angry tears streamed from your eyes as you white-knuckled the steering wheel. You were unbelievably angry with Dean, and the fact that he would be gone in a year was too much for you to bear.

You drove for hours and ignored calls from both brothers and Bobby. As evening fell, you found a remote crossroad in southern Wyoming. You dug forcefully into the gravel and shoved an Altoid tin filled with everything needed to summon a crossroads demon into the dirt below. You covered it with the displaced gravel and stood back up.

“Funny seeing you here,” a sultry voice purred from behind you.

You turned to see a beautiful woman in a sleek black dress with glowing red eyes staring you up and down.

“How do I get Dean out of his deal?” you asked firmly.

She laughed coldly. “Ooh, cutting straight to the chase.” She sucked in a breath through her teeth and tsked, circling you. “You can’t, hon.”

“And why not?” you hissed.

“That’s way above my paygrade, dollface.”

“Please, c’mon,” you begged. “You could drag me straight to Hell right now if that’s what it takes.”

The demon hummed. “As much as I’d love that, no can do.”

“Why?” Your voice broke as you asked.

“I can’t break a deal to make another,” she replied simply. “Besides, I don’t hold the contract.”

“Well, who does?” you questioned.

“Why would I tell you,” she smirked. “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

“Wait!” Before you could even get the word out, she was gone.

You knew the brothers would be going after the yellow-eyed demon and the guy who’d killed Sam, so you finally decided to listen to the singular voicemail Sam had left. Maybe the demon was the key to breaking Dean's deal.

“Hey, (Y/N), uh, Dean won’t talk about why you took off,” his voice began. “I’m hopin’ you’re coming back, so, meet us at Fossil Butte Cemetery in Wyoming. We’re thinkin’ that’s where the demon’s gonna be. Anyways, so… see ya later, I guess.” And then the line went dead.

Fury burning in your eyes, you sped to where Sam said your group would be. It was abandoned for miles around, and you had to drive over about a mile and a half of grass to get anywhere close to the cemetery. When you got out of the car, black smoke suddenly began filling the sky coming from the cemetery you were headed toward. With a gun and knife in hand, you ran to the cemetery and stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of the spiraling smoke pouring out of a crypt facing away from you. You noticed Bobby and Ellen hiding behind a tombstone and felt momentarily relief at the fact that Ellen was still alive. However, your relief was short lived when you saw Dean being thrown through the air by an invisible force and down against a tombstone.

‘The demon,’ you thought, creeping around the right side of the crypt. You saw the demon saying something to Dean while Sam stood pinned against a tree. The demon’s back was to you, and you could hear what he was saying more clearly as you moved toward him.

You couldn’t pay any mind to it, though, and you took the demon’s distraction as an opportunity to jump on its back and wrestle the Colt away from him. The demon yelped in surprise as you grabbed the gun and held on for dear life; throwing yourself over the demon’s shoulder to try and yank it out of his hand.

You succeeded in getting it away from him much to your surprise, and you pushed yourself up to see the ghost of John Winchester wrestling with a cloud of black smoke shaped like a man. The body the yellow-eyed demon had been possessing had fallen to the ground, dead, and the cloud of smoke pushed John to the ground.

It rejoined its body and stood, turning its venomous gaze toward you. A smile spread across your face, and you shot the demon square between its eyes. The yellow-eyed demon fell to the ground, dead.

You rushed over to where you noticed Bobby and Ellen trying to close the gate the demons and ghosts were pouring out of, completely ignoring John and his boys. You helped Ellen shove the door closed with one final push and leaned back against it, panting. You turned around just in time to see John disappear into a haze of white light.

The brothers stood over the demon’s body, and you turned to Ellen.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you told her. “And I’m sorry about the Roadhouse.”

She nodded and smiled half-heartedly at you. “Jo wasn’t there, so, uh, that’s all that matters, I guess.”

You nodded, unsure of what else to say.

“Kid,” Bobby started, and you turned to him. “What happened with Dean that made you leave?”

“Bobby—”

“Look, ya don’t have to tell me. But at least say ‘goodbye’ next time,” he softly scolded you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t,” you replied.

He paused for a moment. “Are you gonna leave again?”

You stared at the ground. “I’m not gonna watch Dean die.”

He nodded. “Will you call every once in a while?”

You grinned sadly. “Of course.” You wrapped Bobby in a hug, and Sam and Dean walked up behind you.

“Good shootin’ back there, sweetheart.”

Your heart almost broke at the nickname, but you steeled yourself and turned to face the brothers. “Thanks,” you told Dean shortly. “I’ll see you around, guys.”

“Whoa, where you goin’?” Sam questioned.

You gave him a hug and cupped his cheek. “I’ll call you when I figure it out.” You lightly patted his cheek and turned away without saying another word to Dean. You could practically feel his eyes staring you down as you walked out of the cemetery and back to your car.

*** The Colt cast a heavy air over your— well, Bobby’s— sedan as it peeked out of your duffel bag. Even though it had no bullets left, its mere presence was putting a target on your back that you were well aware of.

You knew that simply killing the yellow-eyed demon wasn’t going to be enough to break Dean’s contract. You weren’t sure how, but come hell or high water, you would figure it out.

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maxtermind · 2 months

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SCENE 2 :: HOW MUCH TRAGEDY ↳ you were never not mine — carlos sainz ༉‧₊˚✧

★ : pairing :: carlos sainz x reader ★ : genre :: angst; fluff separated by a hidden emotional turmoil, carlos and y/n navigate the complexities of co-parenting their twins amidst the high-stakes f1 world. amidst paddock visits and personal healing, will they go further apart or find their way back to each other? ★ : a/n :: text posts are going to return from tom till then you can enjoy this<3 taglist form is in the series masterlist btw!! HATS OFF TO EVERY SINGLE SMAU WRITER BECAUSE THIS IS SO HARD LMAO

( series masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request )

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

f1 10 mins ago

f1 LET'S GET THE EUROPEAN LEG OF THE SEASON STARTED! 🇮🇹

username oh the admin knows what they did with carlos at the front lmao username can't wait for the races! let's goooo! 🇮🇹🏁 username so excited for this leg of the season! bring it on! 🤩 username hoping for some amazing races! good luck to all the drivers! 🙌 username here for the racing, not y/n’s drama ⤷ username ugh yes like can we focus on racing and not y/n’s drama? username italy, here we come! forza ferrari! ❤️ ⤷ username poor carlos, dealing with y/n’s drama and still racing username ready for some intense racing action! 🏎🔥 username who else is here for the drama? carlos and y/n's relationship update please! 😂 ⤷ username i hope carlos and y/n figure things out. it was so nice seeing her at the race again

yn.user 20 mins ago

yn.user behind every successful man is his loving fam❤️ congratulations papa sainz

username this is a joke, right? after all the drama? lilymhe wow such a hottie and a MOM? smash! ⤷ yn.user date and time🙏 ⤷ alexalbon uhm... im right here? username weren't you just out with another man? hypocrite ⤷ username loving fam? like she didn't just get caught with another guy? 😂 username wow, pretending everything is fine now? ⤷ username guess she's trying to clean up her image good luck with that username this is so fake everyone knows the truth username acting like a loving family after everything? sure, y/n ⤷ username like who the fuck are you fooling, y/n? we know the real story username you're so pretty, y/n! i bought the tickets just to see you irl username didn't take long for the fake posts to start

carlossainz 20 mins ago

carlossainz victory feels even sweeter with my kids by my side!🏆❤️

username congrats, carlos! the kids are your ONLY real supporters. username so glad you’re focusing on the kids and not the drama. ⤷ username victory without y/n? this is peak comedy😭 ⤷ username way to go, carlos! the kids are all you need! username finally, a win focused on the right people. congrats, carlos! username oh god we really lost the great war huh username great win, carlos! the kids must be so proud. ⤷ username this is the content we love. kids over drama! username well done! no need for distractions we're so proud❤️ ⤷ username the kids are his real mvps so lol username congrats, carlos! the kids are your biggest fans.

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boo is typing... (y/n's pov)

lily is typing… (y/n's pov)

yn.user 20 mins ago

yn.user as my boys said: finally a worthy opponent✨

username this is why some people shouldn't have kids. username she's a mess. no wonder they broke up ⤷ username using her kids for attention. disgusting! carlossainz so you're also bad at scrabble? ⤷ username oh shit carlos didn't come to play ⤷ username you tell her carlos!! username no stability for those poor kids with her around. ⤷ username kids must be so confused with a new man every week username pathetic attempt to make carlos jealous. GROW UP, Y/N!!!

carlos is typing… (y/n's pov)

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©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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luniise-kel · 5 months

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thinking about how cool and awesome moon stone cassandra couldve been if she wasnt given the world’s worst villain motivation

dropping my whole au / rewrote of season 3 below

uh preface is im sleepy and its almost midnight, so like sorry if some parts dont make sense or whatever

uhh basically, instead of cass trying to like reach her destiny or whatever as like her Main motivation and the only reason to why she Evil and Malicious ive changed it so its more mixed in with her desire to protect rapunzel. i think moonstone cass is cool and i like the idea of her but i really just think her execution was poor mostly because it wasn’t built up as much as it shouldve been.

rewrote cass’s character slightly just so there more empathize on her idolization of her mother, and so when she learns the truth of why mother gothel left her, the knee jerk reaction to blame raps makes a little more sense.

Anyways, Season 3 cass deals with a lot of her issues, i think on the journey to get the moonstone something something happens and cassandra is told that if rapunzel comes in contact with the moonstone she will Implode. Like die. Return to being the sundrop. and cass is like oh fuck, shit, balls, I need to Protect her from Dying. So out of her intense Need to protect Rapunzel she yoinks the moonstone, and (still slightly pissed at raps for stealing her mom but not really she’s just trying to figure out her emotions + rapunzel needs to get away away from this rock) she goes into Evil mode.

Her villain arc is partly fueled by her anger at her own situation, always in second place. her desire to feel love and cherished and important rather than being the 2nd option. However, it is also fueled by her need to provide safety to her friends ,, even if it’s not the smartest choice. Moonstone Cass devotes her entire identify to being the cliche villain, so no one feels bad if like the solution to destroying the moonstone is killing her. she knows that logically the Zhan Tiri is manipulating her but 1. she idgaf and 2. she needs to learn how to control the moonstone’s power so she doesnt hurt her friends.

Tbh boiled now, it’s just cass isnt obsessive with mother gothel and mother gothel leaving her to kidnap a baby because it made like no sense for her character. like instead, moonstone cass grabbles with her identify and place in the world, who she is outside of rapunzel. Also she wants to learn more about her past, yknow, who mother gothel was and is she Worth getting upset over. spoiler she figures out that no, her bio mom sucks booty

Anyways, throughout my version of season 3, cass is trying to figure out a way to destroy the moonstone. She visits Rapunzel often too and pretends to be evil just so she can check in. She angry at her mom but not so much on rapunzel, maybe a little bit but probably more to with simply trying to crave out her identify outside of rapunzel. Same general plot beats happen in s3, but shes more grief driven than anger driven i suppose.

Theres probably a lot i forgot to like, reformulate in this especially w s3 bc i havent had the time to rewatch it and collect my thoughts that well. But, uh, hope u enjoyed. might yap more about my personal gripes with the show and how i think it shouldve been written.

also to add on i suppose, at the end of the series she gets exiled from corona officially, but lowkey comes back to hang out and after like a year every1 is like yeah okay i guess.

#cassandra tts #tangled the series #tts spoilers #ig the show is kinda old #after i finish ap testing im going to sit down and organize my thoughts about my rewrite #grrr #erm tbh this is like the worlds worst dump of my thoughts about this #ill prob make another post explaining everything better #lmao #luniise art

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erideights · 1 year

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Little pieces here and there (4)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Parts: one, two, three, five

Word Count: 4,2K, i should ask for forgiveness

Warnings: flirting, pinning, (FUCKING) FINALLY, unprotected sex, buggy detaching parts of his body during sex like the freak he is

A/N: i've been building this moment so long that i was, once more, inspired by god to make this chapter the longest ever, i hope you all enjoy and that the awaited smut doesn't disappoint and delivers (let me know, anxiety is killing me, love u all, see you in chapter 5, the final (until season 2) of this series) (again i'm really really sorry for any grammatical mistake!)

Day 5 after what happened during the Arlong Park fight, or what is the same for her = 5 AAP, (Y/N) is sure about three things:

1. With the choice of leaving her mercenary life behind, comes her new position as the ''strategist'' of the Straw Hat crew, a group of very unique people that after a couple of stops along the way, would arrive at the Grand Line.

2. Their next destination is Loguetown, which excited her; she loved the city, she never turned down an assignment that involved working there. They would arrive in a couple of days and stock up on everything they would need before beginning the greatest adventure of their lives.

3. Buggy's nose was real. Very real. And she missed him. Just a bit.

To be more precise, that bit of tension and constant sarcasm around her. She knew he was a pain in the ass, and that his staying on the ship wouldn't have lasted much more than an extra day and a half because one of her crewmates -Zoro- would have unceremoniously thrown him overboard anytime.

But it was really fun for her, so from time to time and in particular, when she passes by the helm, she finds herself remembering that annoying talking head and smiling a bit.

And so, after an entire week, they arrive at the famous Loguetown, the tomb of the most famous pirate of all time, a refuge for mercenaries, pirates and bounty hunters from all corners of the East Blue! No matter what, everything your heart could desire -except for the One Piece- you could find there. Jewelry, weapons, food, alcohol, a good bed to sleep and rest in, or other darker, macabre and adult types of entertainment.

Ah, what a city. Anyone could get lost among its endless alleys packed with people. That's why when the crew splits up, they do it in pairs, making sure that Zoro, who they had already discovered, lacked complete and utter sense of direction, wouldn't be left alone and lost among the city's infinite tide of pirates. (Y/N) is the one who goes with him, both heading to the largest armory in the city to replace his destroyed katanas while Sanji and Luffy take care of the food, and Usopp and Nami go around to do… she doesn’t really remember what. Trying clothes she believes.

She must say, however, that this swordsman is not exactly the most talkative person in the world even though their friendship has considerably grown and deepened during their little journey. Apart from sharing small notes about the city, how many people there are, or what they should do, they don't really talk that much; in her case, because she is absorbed in her surroundings, soaking in every possible detail. Him, silent because his reputation as a pirate hunter is famous around all the East Blue, and of course, in Loguetown there are only pirates. He prefers to stay alert to avoid future conflicts and have a peaceful morning. Not for him, but for his crew.

That's why when a gloved hand flies out of a dark alley, and violently covers the girl's mouth and nose, preventing her from screaming, while another grabs her by the waistband of her pants and yanks her back, forcing her to get in said alley, Zoro doesn't even notice, he continues calmly walking, minding his own fucking business, heading to only God knows where.

Farewell, mosshead.

In a blink, (Y/N)'s back collides with a strong torso, and with her heart in her mouth and adrenaline running wild in her veins, she stretches her right hand to reach the knife she has in the holster on her right thigh to destroy the asshole that dares to try to steal from her. Or murder her. Or that's her idea until she hears a familiar voice murmuring an “I got you” behind her, before turning her head and discovering the biggest, reckless buffoon she's ever met.

Buggy.

Eyes wide open, she screams against his palm, pissed off by the way he scared the shit outta her. Extremely angry, she yanks his hand away from her mouth, turns her entire body around and looks at him with what he would swear, is the most annoyed expression he ever saw in his entire life. Before the clown can excuse himself and his lack of manners, just as she begins to see that stupid smile appear on his stupid face, she slaps him so hard that for a second, he thinks his head will detach from the rest of his body.

Then, and pushed by an outburst of passion that comes out of she doesn’t even understand where, a mixture of adrenaline, surprise, her desire to kill him with her own hands and the -sexual- frustration with which he abandoned her the last time, she grabs his vest, pulls and kisses him. Again, all before Buggy can even react.

The kiss is brief. Really quick, but intense as hell, and she manages to leave him breathless. Yes, him. Only him. Because the moment they separate, when (Y/N) pushes him back, she spits out a heartfelt “You're an idiot!”

What a fucking rollercoaster. He doesn't even remember what he was about to say anymore to greet her. He's in fact, too stunned to speak. Did she slapped, kissed, and insulted him in less than a minute? Oh, she's a freak, just like him. The only difference between them is that she knows how to pretend the opposite. But she can't hide it from him. Not to the king of the freaks.

''I missed you too, baby'' he admits with an amused smile, moving his jaw a little from side to side, as well as his neck; that woman is stronger than he expected.

''Yeah? Because I really didn’t.’’ she spits once again, taking a deep breath. ''Liar'' he retorts, eyeing her up and down. ''Liir'' she instantly mocks, still recovering from the tsunami of emotions that just passed through her. ''What the fuck are you doing in Loguetown?''

''I came looking for my sorry excuses for a supporting cast,'' his crew. Were they still alive? Would have sworn Zoro destroyed all of them but who knew. ''and turns out I found the perfect, shiny, little new supporting star for my show'' he adds, as flirtatious as always around her, approaching (Y/N) again.

''Oh, I feel flattered but as I already told you, I don't like being in the spotlight. I relate way more to the shadow around it.”

He rolls his eyes but nods in understanding, reaching out to grab the girl's waist. ''Mhm. What about a private show, then? We have a play to finish, If my memory's not betraying me.'' He whispers honeyed, closing the distance between the two just a bit more. Cannot stop himself, neither he wants to. He knew as soon as he recognized her on the street, he would not let her go without putting order in their outstanding matters.

She’s about to add her usual sarcastic and smartass remark saying something among the lines of ‘without inviting me to dinner first?’ but she chooses not to. Just for once. ''I could agree to that.'' The girl admits, tilting a smile. ''Not here, tho.'' Pressing the clown's chest with her index finger, signaling for him to stay still, (Y/N) runs her tongue over her upper teeth, taking a couple of seconds to think.

In the end, she raises an eyebrow, and with an amused smile, she asks: “Do you trust me?”

''Not in a million years''

''I knew you would say that.'' She still takes one of his hands, that was still on her waist, and starts walking quite fast towards the other end of the alley, pulling him with her. He doesn’t object at all, despite not knowing where the hell is she taking him, and simply follows her lead, unconsciously squeezing her hand to not to lose her in the crowd.

Not many minutes later, after climbing some stairs and turning a few streets, there they are, in front of a beautiful tavern with windows decorated with ornate dark wooden planks, designing patterns of small squares, offering a beautiful view of its interior. The building was not one of the largest in the area, but it was not one of the smallest either. She knew from experience* that the floors above the tavern were rooms rented to the pickiest pirates. They had enough space to rest comfortably after a long voyage at sea, with a good bed and several locks on the doors and windows to prevent intrusions, attempts at robbery or murder, or a drunken idiot making a mistake and entering the wrong room.

*She knows this because a couple of years ago she needed to sneak in during the night to steal a jade seal from a famous pirate captain, who had previously stolen it from the temple it belonged to a few months before. Getting in wasn't easy at all.

Walking to the side of the building, where the windows of the rooms can be seen better, (Y/N) looks right, then left, making sure there’s no one nosing around.

‘’Here we are.’’ She announces, looking at him with a devilish smirk on her face. ''Now pay attention, here's my brilliant, unique and exceptional plan. It will absolutely blow your mind.’’ He cracks a genuine smile after hearing how she praised herself. She sounded almost like him.

“First step: Throw your head up to that window over there,” she points said window with her index finger, two floors above their heads, “and tell me if there’s someone sleeping inside. Or if you see any sign someone rented the room.’’

Confusion is the feeling that crosses his beautiful face for a second, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and lips pressed into a small incredulous smile. She wants to sneak through the window without being seen and not pay a single berry? Exactly what a true pirate would do. He was starting to fall in love with her.

Without a second thought, his head separates from his body and floats to the open window, slightly sneaking in to check as she asked. And as fast as it goes up, it returns back down, just like a yo-yo. ''Clear'' He confirms, amused.

''Perfect, second step: now throw your right hand, same window, and leave it there.'' And he does as she says, no questions asked, because he could not do otherwise. Because he wouldn't want to do otherwise. He was not made to follow orders and still, deep down, he knows he would follow hers. Or better said… he would follow her around. She was, maybe, not a theatre kid like him, but to his eyes, she shines brightly.

Not as much as him, tho.

Once Buggy's right hand waits patiently on the window frame, (Y/N) grabs the clown by the shoulders and strategically positions him under the window. Then she takes his left hand, bringing it forward. "Third step: with this hand you propel me into the air, with the other you grab me and you help me sneak in."

''And the final step?'' Getting very close to his face, the girl rubs her nose against his and whispers, voice low and lustful, ''You float to the window and meet me inside for that private show you mentioned before.'' He already knew the goal of that whole improvised plan, but he almost purrs when he hears her say it.

Then Buggy throws her upwards without prior notice, way stronger than she expected, and a sweet, genuine laugh escapes (Y/N)'s lips at the lack of gravity and that distinctive tickle in her stomach that rises to her throat. Not even when he uses that floating hand to catch her and guide her to the room, her feet on solid ground again, she’s able to stop laughing.

She expected this whole forbidden getaway to be entertaining, but not so, so fun. There was no point in denying the obvious: the complicity, the chemistry between them is criminal, asphyxiating, palpable, and so, so /real/. It's not only about physical attraction and sexual tension anymore, they were actually really compatible, which could only, and is already, making things one hundred times better.

As soon as she's inside, still giggling a bit, she's quick to reach the door and securely close it, fitting the bolt with a pair of lockpicks that she had on her. On the other hand, as soon as Buggy gets inside the room he chooses not to lose a single second, because every second he wastes is one less that he can enjoy that fantastic woman who is driving him crazy; before she can return to the center of the room, he has already recovered his right hand, thrown his hat to the floor along with his coat, and has rushed towards her, kissing her again, this time without a hurry, but voraciously, passionately, with the irresistible yearning he has been suffering for almost two weeks. He wants-- no, he needs to make her his. The desire making his blood boil. Her warmth, her smell, the taste of her lips-- even her laugh. It was too much. Too intoxicating.

(Y/N) welcomes him, sighing deeply against his lips, tilting her head a little, melting in the kiss, her hands flying to his hair to take out the bandana and pull at his blue locks, to which Buggy responds by grabbing her from the back of her thighs, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed, near the window. He lets some of his weight fall onto her, loosely holding himself on his knees on the mattress. She closes her legs around his waist, pressing him even a little closer against her body, excitement coursing through her veins like poison.

All that little game with the clown was just flirting, huh? Yeah, sure.

For a minute, everything is kisses, stealing each other's breaths, strong caresses on arms, legs, and back over clothes. There are bites at each other's lips, seemingly incapable of getting enough of the other, the attraction between them driving them both so absolutely insane than getting some distance to get naked seems impossible.

“Baby,” raspily, he press his crotch between her legs to let her feel his growing erection under his pants. ''I suggest you getting naked before I rip your clothes off by myself.''

She moans in response, wetter, more aroused by every second passing, unable to even think about playing hard to get this time. ''Aye aye captain'' she manages to whisper back mischievously, separating her hands from his body in order to pull her own shirt up and throw it somewhere in the room.

He grunts, but makes the titanic effort to separate himself from her, standing on his knees in front of her laying body, licking his lips, breathing heavily, eyes half-closed, already fucking her in his thoughts. Of course, seeing her undress for him is quite a show.

After her shirt comes the button and zipper of her pants. Although before getting rid of these, she pulls the scarf around the clown's neck, forcing him to lean over her again, and after it goes his vest. Given the girl's haste, he lets escape a hoarse laugh that reverberates inside his chest and decides to help her with whatever’s left between them; shoes, pants, gloves, and underwear.

''You're gorgeous'' he breathes, taking in her image in front of him. “You’re almost making me feel guilty for what I'm about to do.”

Before she could even ask, or threaten with a ‘don't you fucking dare’ or something among those lines, one of Buggy's hands flies to her own, and pins her wrists against the bed with such force, she hisses, heart in her throat, deafening her ears. She remembers herself, this was all too good to be true, and that damn clown promised to make her beg. He wasn't going to forgive her so easily, was he?

Her fault.

''Sweetheart, open your beautiful legs for me, will you?'' Returning to the bed, the clown settles between the girl's thighs, running -with the only hand still attached to his body-, one of her legs, from the knee to the hip bone in a slow and tortuous caress.

''Now, I'm pretty sure I warned you about what's about to happen last time you took advantage of my... uncomfortable, kinda-hostage situation on your stupid little boat. When you decided to push me to my limit.''

She is too aroused, too turned on to think clearly, her mind clouded by the same rush of hormones that’s making her incredibly wet. Having him now naked between her legs, threatening her in that low tone of voice, exposed helplessly in front of him, doesn't help at all; it is, as a matter of fact, making things way worse.

''You wanted me to beg, right?’’

''Exactly. It's that easy.'' After a couple of strokes, he grabs his erection and runs it slowly through her wet folds, both of them barely containing a moan in their throats at the sensation. He, perhaps, better than her, because (Y/N) involuntarily pushes her hips upwards, trying to get some more. ''Ah-ah. Want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Just beg for it. Beg for /me/.''

Being the proud woman she is, it's not exactly easy for her to seriously beg for something. Joking? Of course, any time, even sarcastically, but something is telling her, her sixth sense probably, he won't settle with a sarcastic remark and dove eyes.

Closing her eyes tightly, she lets herself be carried away by pure and absolute desperation every time he runs his erection through her, lubricating himself with her fluids. He is silent, already tasting the sweet victory he’ll feel when he manages to break her and make her beg. Although this doesn't happen as quickly as he would have preferred.

''(Y/N)'' He warns, and it's the first time he says her name out loud. The first time she hears him, with his raspy voice and his beautiful accent, pronouncing her real name instead of some compliment or silly nickname to call her.

Welcome, breaking point.

''Beg--''

''I need you,'' she interrupts him in a low whimper, lifting her hips. ''Bugs-- Buggy, I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Usually, it's moments like this particular one in which the clown enjoys recreating himself, making others beg a little more, -sex, mercy, forgiveness- doesn’t matter-, taking his good time listening to her moans and cries of desperation. But he can't help it, the second he hears the girl call him by his name, telling him how much she needs him, and that silly attempt of an order at the end, he knows it’s game over, and he decides to give her exactly what she wants, penetrating her suddenly the last time he runs slowly through her folds. A sweet moan of relief and pleasure escapes from (Y/N) chest along with a "Fuck, Buggy--". From him, a hoarse grunt. A shiver runs down their spines, and quickly, Buggy recovers his other hand, freeing her from his grip, to aggressively pull both of her thighs to bring her closer to him, and begins to thrust hard, all shreds of self-control escaping from his body lightspeed.

He pushes into her as deep as he can in no time, burying himself between her legs, face hidden in the crook of her neck, hands keeping her legs open, close to his hips.

She doesn't know what she likes more, the erratic sound of his breathing and panting in her ear, the desperation with which his whole body seems to search for hers or each penetration sending an ecstasy shock through her nerves, but she soon becomes a puddle of sweet moans, whimpers and breathing as heavy as his, one hand pulling hard at his blue hair, the other resting on his abdomen, nails digging slightly his skin with each thrust.

''Oh god, Bugs--’’

''Moan my name louder baby,'' he breathes before biting her shoulder, leaving the mark of his teeth imprinted on her skin. ''I want them to catch us. I want them hearing you scream my name.”

And she does. She moans his name again, just not as loud as he wants. Which means there is something, something he can do better. Something to push her to her limit, to make her a believer, and make her /his/.

Summoning all his willpower, and not before one last, violent thrust, the clown stops and suddenly pulls out of her. (Y/N) complains with a loud cry, opening her eyes to ask what the fuck is he actually doing, how dares he to stop. Thank God, she doesn't have time to threaten him before he speaks.

''On your knees.'' And of course she obliges, on all fours, the simple idea making her completely lose her mind. Only thing, Buggy doesn't intend to keep her like this for a long time; as soon as she exposes herself for him again, he buries himself once more inside her as deep as he can and starts thrusting again, slowly but strongly, ending each thrust with a loud slam. This time, both hands separate from his body, one reaching for her delicate neck, which he circles with his fingers and presses to lightly cut off her breathing. The other one flies to her mouth, pushing between her lips with two fingers that she soaks in her saliva.

(Y/N), unable to articulate a single complaint, sucks, bites and licks them, muffling against them every sound that escapes her throat.

A pleasure shock, like a lightning bolt, forces her to arch her back the moment that same hand flies to her clitoris and starts masturbating it, overstimulating her.

Buggy is really determined to make her his, to not let her forget about him, to become the legitimate protagonist of each of her erotic fantasies, so to finish driving her crazy, the hand he has around her neck lifts her up, pulling her until he forces her back against his torso in a beautiful reference to the day they met and the first time he felt that magnetic attraction inevitably pulling him towards her.

''So. Much. Better,” he manages to whisper between grunts and raspy moans, surrounding her abdomen with one of his arms to keep her in place, close to his chest, sacrificing penetrating her as deeply as he would like but without caring in the slightless because he knows, she is quickly reaching her orgasm. He can feel it in the way her walls contract around his cock, in the beating of her heart in her throat against his hand, and in how her hands reach for anything, trying to support herself; in this case, his arm around her, nails scratching his skin.

''C'mon baby, cum for me.'' He groans, refusing to fall headfirst to his own orgasm because he doesn't plan to finish before her. Under other circumstances he would have done it, he has never been the kind of generous lover who thinks of his partner's pleasure before his own. This woman is breaking some old habits and patterns just being the way she is. And he doesn't care at all.

A few more thrust, the lack of enough oxygen in her lungs and that wonderful pressure on her clitoris, and (Y/N) explodes in an orgasm so strong she begins to breathless moan Buggy’s name over and over again like a mantra, which obviously feeds his ego so, so much, it ends up sending him over the same edge, moaning her name under his breath, resting his forehead on her shoulder, hugging her body tightly as they ride their climax.

…

''Told you I would make you beg'' he cracks a devilish smirk, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders when he finally lies on the mattress.

''Yeah'' she giggles, although sarcastically, recovering by the second, enough clarity to recompose her own ego. ''You also told me you would make me find the One Piece without going to the Grand Line and I cannot see it anywhere yet.''

What a subtle way of asking for a second round, he thinks to himself, clearly pleased -instead of offended- for the way his smile stretches even more, looking intently at her.

“You're right.” He would have liked to lie on the bed for a while, getting back some energy and attack again, but damn him if he ever dares to reject a provocation as bold as that one. He wouldn't forgive himself.

Getting out of bed almost as quickly as he lay down a few minutes ago, Buggy cracks his neck from side to side, and taking one of the chairs next to the table in the room, he turns it in the air, leaving it pointing towards the girl.

He then sits down, leaning on the backrest, relaxed, exhaling an erotic, slow sigh as he exaggeratedly separates his legs in a clear invitation for her to come closer and sit on them.

"What did you say the other day? About liking a man with his entire body, capable of fucking you in his lap and making you scream his name?"

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x you #op buggy #one piece live action #one piece x reader #captain buggy

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sammyofold · 2 months

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Here are those fic recs I promised you @incesthemes ! I hope there's some in there that you'll really enjoy <3 I split up the recs into overarching tropes to group some together, but I'll start with those that don't fit into any of the groups.

The list got a bit long, so I decided to split it up into two parts.

(Part 1 | Part 2)

Courting Death by theproblematique.

Summary: Sam Winchester lived the first six months of his life in a happy family; the next twelve years as John Winchester's only son, and the last decade as an orphan. He's supposed to die at twenty-two trying to save the woman he loves from a fire, because he doesn't have a brother to pull him back. But the night Sam meets his Reaper he discovers that Death is overly fond of pop-culture references, too beautiful to be real, and reluctant to kill him.

Servant of Servants 'verse by klove0511.

This is a two-part series (though I think it might've been intended to have more fics, its ending doesn't leave you feeling snubbed), posing the question: "what if it had been Sam who'd been mortally wounded at the end of Season 1?"

love potion no. 9 by according2thelore.

Summary: Dean drinks a love potion. Sam is falling apart at the seams because he's been in love with his brother for more than a decade.

keep me in a daydream by according2thelore.

Summary: After an accidental kiss makes a hunt go suspiciously well, Sam and Dean decide to try it again. And again. And again. It's no different from wearing lucky socks, right? A 5 + 1.

for you and me (i got no alibi) by remy.

Summary: There are people hitting on Sam wherever he goes, and Dean is doing weird things like holding doors open for him and touching him way more than is necessary, and it's all driving Sam up the wall. It doesn't help that he's been in love with Dean for just about forever, and all of it feels like a mockery of something he'll never get to have. Meanwhile, Dean is at his wits' end trying to figure out how he can make Sam realize that he is, in fact, trying to get into his pants.

Ben Has Two Dads by regala_electra.

Summary: When Ben turns thirteen and learns that Dean Winchester is his father, he runs away to join his father (and uncle). A tale where boys are boys, Vikings are Vikings, unicorns go to Candy Mountains, Dean and Sam are in big gay love, and Ben becomes a Winchester.

Last Temptation by merle_p.

Summary: Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

Five Times Dean Forgot and One Time He Remembered by elsi.

Summary: Rowena warned him the obliviate curse might have “aftershocks.” That Dean could relapse to his amnesiac state without warning—though only temporarily, she assured. But this? This goes beyond calling a lamp a “light stick.”

Whatever It Is by theproblematique.

Summary: Both Sam and Dean get sent to the year 2014.

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life, Too) by TeacupUnicorn.

Summary: Sam and Dean get handcuffed together during a hunt. With a werewolf on their tail and a proximity to each other they haven’t had since they were kids, their unstable relationship is put to the test and their trust in each other is pushed to the limit. Set sometime after 5x16 and before 5x20.

Not Her Sam by Yuval25.

Summary: Future Dean goes back in time to change the future and saves Jess. Future Sam tags along unexpectedly. And Jess is okay. No, seriously. She's fine.

Mistaken For a Couple

101 - mythology by ani_coolgirl.

Summary: As Sam, Dean, and Kali flee Lucifer's slaughter, Kali makes an assumption. The boys try to clear up any misconceptions. They don't do a very good job.

I need you so much closer by cherryvanilla.

Summary: five times they're mistaken for a couple plus one time they actually are.

Domesticity

Paisley by samsexualdeancurious.

Summary: After his mind wall was broken and was healed, Sam knows he can’t be a hunter anymore, so he and Dean retire, and Sam ends up finding a homeless dog who was abused and together they heal.

The Chicago Verse by compo67.

This is a series spanning a whopping 169 fics. I've read only a few of them and I enjoyed Sam and Dean retiring in this town together. It's still updating, looks like, since the latest fic added was in May of this year.

a few things worth saying by hathfrozen.

Summary: “So this morning,” Dean ventures as they blast down the highway in pitch black night toward a probable werewolf case. Sam looks over at him, thin eyebrows raised, eyes clear and calm. He’s not even difficult about it, doesn’t ask what Dean is after, doesn’t deny what had happened. Instead he says, very simply, “I just figure, why lie?” Alright then.

All The Way In by hunters_retreat.

Summary: Sam never did know how exactly it happened. One day, he and Dean were run ragged, exhausted from yet another disaster of a hunt, no money and no gas, no prospects and no allies left alive to give them a hand. The next, they owned a store with a shooting range and Sam was a professor of religious studies at a local community college.

Pre-Series & Season 1

To Blow Against the Wind by dreamlittleyo.

Summary: After Oasis Plains, Sam and Dean can't. Stop. Touching each other.

Star-Crossed by Agent_Hellcat.

Summary: Before Sam departs for Stanford, he writes a letter to Dean, begging him to come to Palo Alto with him.

Birthday Suit by wincestation.

Summary: On the morning of Dean’s eighteenth birthday, Dad takes him to buy a suit. Sam is… interested.

house song by according2thelore.

Summary: “The werewolf.” Sam says, quick. Hushed. Scared. “I don’t know how. I was—He was standing above you and then he wasn’t. And I think I did that.” Dean keeps whispering stuff to Sam, banal reassurances that Sam soaks up like a sponge, but he feels sick. Sammy did something impossible. Sammy’s been doing impossible things. For years. Or: Pre-Canon/Teen!chesters AU in which Sam develops powers at age eleven, Dean will do anything to protect him, and they have to live with the consequences

Outsider POV

What I've Done by Amoreanonyname.

Summary: He wasn’t going to say anything more about it. He could tell, Dean was happy to see him, but wasn’t going to humor this topic. Dean, young Dean would jump to obey John, to answer John’s questions, but this was an older Dean who was more loyal to someone else now. More loyal to his brother. John wasn’t the priority here, and he realized with another guilty jump in his stomach that he never should have been.

something you love and understand by monsterq.

Summary: In heaven, Mary makes an unwelcome discovery about her sons’ relationship.

a skeleton terribly restless by remy.

Summary: Mary knows she doesn't fit right in this strange new world she's woken up in, with these grown men masquerading as her sons, but she tries her best. She really does. She closes her eyes to all the things she does not want to see, and she lies to herself until she's convinced. Until she can't.

Flowers on the Window Sill by orphan_account.

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester's relationship as observed by the good people of Star's Hollow.

Soulmates

Fix You by non_tiembo_mala.

Summary: After their encounter with Famine, the boys are in dire straits. With Dean left shaken by the horseman's taunts - which rang truer than he'd like to admit - and Sam juiced up on demon blood again, Dean is at a loss. He has no idea how to move forward, or where they're meant to go from here. Then again, they’ve always had each other - perhaps their salvation isn't as far away as it seems.

All Too Familiar by sammichgirl.

Summary: Sam's new hobby has consequences they never saw coming. Turns out, that's OK with Dean after all.

What We Do by BleedingInk.

Summary: Castiel catches Sam and Dean in a compromising position.

since feeling is first by queenklu.

Summary: That he wants to think this is Dean yanking a leash should make his blood run cold, not aching hot. It should make him sick, angry, it should get his fucking hackles up and make him fight. He does want to fight. But there’s a skin-thin line between primal things, and fighting isn’t all he wants to do.

if the dam breaks open many years too soon by deirde_c.

Summary: Sam’s soul springs a leak, and Dean’s the one who can repair it.

In the beached margin of the sea by rivers_bend.

Summary: Sam and Dean black out on a hunt, and when they wake up, Dean's having visions and Sam can't get new, strange feelings out of his head. When John finds out about the side effects, he'll do anything to get rid of the "curse". But Sam and Dean don't want to go back to the way things were before.

I Don't Need A Symbol by amoreanonyname.

Summary: It hadn’t meant that much to Sam at first. A warm glow at being able to do something nice for Dean, to give him something for once, to make him as happy as he seemed when he put it on immediately. It was what it meant to Dean that made it mean something else to Sam.

#wincest #samdean #fic recs #rec list #part 1 #og post #so here it is!!#this took me way too long 💀 sorry about that #tumblr also been giving me sooo much trouble formatting this ugh #if anything doesnt work or looks wonky lmk and i'll try to fix it!#hope you enjoy the fics!!<3

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sundrop-writes · 5 months

Text

One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson

Season One, Episode One: "Titans"

Summary:

You and Dick haven't spoken since the Titans parted ways in San Francisco five years ago.

Even though you used to be as close as two people can be, both of you are doing just fine leading your own separate lives - until your psychic powers cause you to have a vision of the end of the world, and you have to turn to him for help. As much as Dick doesn't want to get involved, you know that him leading The Raven on the path she needs to travel is the only way to stop the terrible fate you saw.

He wants to deny it, and stay as far away from you as possible - but he can't avoid you or the truth that you have told him when he runs into that very Raven you speak of in an interrogation room later that night. He has to face a simple truth he has always known: you're always right.

Dick Grayson x Fem!Powered!Reader. Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Bantering/Humor. Set during Season 1, Episode 1.

Word Count: 2,300

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns (some people might accuse the reader character in this story of being more of an OC and I am okay with that - I try to make all the reader characters in my other stories as blank and open as possible and every now and then I let myself have a little bit of a treat) - but as usual with my stories, the majority of pronouns used in the fic are you/yours; other than clothing style and a scar that informs her backstory, the reader's looks are not described and are left vague (as far as race, body type, hair colour, etc. - those things are not described); the reader character does have powers - I might make a separate post detailing the reader's entire backstory and power set (or I might just let it be spelled out slowly through the chapters) - but for now, I will tell you that the reader character is psychic and can see glimpses of the future in dream-like visions; the reader and Dick are 'exes' - their relationship was never official (they never explicitly called each other boyfriend/girlfriend), but they used to have sex often (and they both have feelings for each other that they never openly spoke about), and they are childhood friends, so there is a lot of emotional history there; mentions of canon-typical violence; this fic does use Y/N; mentions of the reader being shot during a past undescribed incident; there is references to sex and discussions of sex, but no explicit smut (but there might be some later in the story? idk yet); emotionally constipated Dick Grayson; idk what else ? - pining, emotional angst, using humor to deflect emotional tension, banter. I just really like the vibes of this. there is not a lot of big content warnings for this fic (yet).

A/N: Honestly, I am really excited about this one. I have a lot of ideas for future episodes (especially the episode where Dick loses it emotionally and just gets followed around by a hallucination of Bruce for the entire episode - but that's not until Season 2, oop). Titans is one of my favourite series ever - if you couldn't tell - so getting to examine each episode closer and appreciate each individual episode as a unique piece of art while writing this instead of binging a whole season gives me a whole new appreciation for the show. I hope you guys enjoy these as they come out - especially because I do have an idea of where this fic is going, but I don't know where I want these characters to go in Season 4. (I kind of want to do a secret surprise reveal of two of the characters being related and being siblings, but... idk. Sometimes people don't like that.) But this is definitely a good opportunity to send me ideas of where you want this story to go/how you want it to end up. Anyway - please enjoy!!!

....

Dick needed some fucking air.

He could barely fucking handle today. He had to compose himself before he lost it and started breaking things. It was all such a shitshow - the department pushing a new partner on him, footage of Robin all over the news, every other half-cocked beat cop making comments about how Robin was just another masked psychopath who wasn’t that different from The Joker.

Fuck them.

If they only knew what Gotham was like - if only they had to deal with a department full of asshole’s on the Joker’s payroll. If only they had to watch criminals walk away because they made bail on the decision of a corrupt judge. If only they had to sit behind a desk and listen to a mother’s sobs as she begged for him to find her missing child - knowing how many people elbow to elbow with him would laugh at her tears rather than start looking.

If they only spent one night tending to civilians while the smell of burning flesh permeated the air, with the Joker’s screaming laugh stuck in their ears because he thought that bombing a low-income housing complex was just that funny.

Fuck all of them.

Dick clenched his fist tight - his knuckles aching as he resisted the urge to drive his arm right through the glass at the front of the precinct. He just - he really needed some air.

Dick walked out the front doors (rather than smashing the glass), and took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying his best to calm down. It was getting late, and things were relatively slow, even for it being a Tuesday. No influx of late-night chaos yet. He had some time to collect himself before-

“So - Robin’s in Detroit now, huh?”

That voice.

Dick felt the sting of familiarity pluck at his spine, and he whipped his head around at lightning speed, looking in the direction of the voice. Surely enough - you were the one standing there. It hadn’t been some kind of auditory hallucination on his part.

So much for time to calm himself down.

He was immediately met with a confliction - lust and annoyance bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to see you again, he didn’t want you to be here, especially not without warning. But you looked so damn good - it was a distraction from that fact.

That was always the thing about exes, wasn’t it?

(If Dick could even call you his ‘ex’ - the two of you had slept together more times than he could count, both metaphorically and literally, but the two of you had never put an official label on the relationship like he had with Dawn or Barbara. He cared for you like a friend, and like a lover in a way that he was never willing to admit - but did that make you his ex? Especially if he never stopped caring about you?)

That thing about exes being: they always look so fucking good when you see them after a long time of being apart. The universe dangling something in front of you that you’re not allowed to have and technically, should no longer want.

But oh - Dick found himself wanting so very badly. (And he tried his hardest to hide that fact as he continued to carefully stare you down.)

Because you looked so good.

You were wearing something of your usual style - an outfit of many confusing layers that somehow showed off the natural curves of your body and hid you all at the same time.

A long skirt with a ruffled hemline and bold, colorful pattern. A pair of boots that you had probably gotten from some vintage store that were likely older than both you and Dick, leathery and well worn in. Your jacket was much the same - a supple brown leather with a soft fur lining that made you look very warm and cozy.

Topped off with a pair of the largest, gaudiest dangling earrings that Dick had ever seen - the kind that would have gotten snagged on one of his nice shirts and gotten the two of you tangled up during one of your hook-ups. A pair of earrings that he would have scolded you for wearing - but he would have delighted in finding them on his bedroom floor after you left because it meant having a piece of you still with him. And it would mean having an excuse to visit you later because he had something of yours to return.

Those earrings glistened in the light of the street lamps, just as your eyes did while you stared him down with those inquisitive, knowing eyes. Looking at him with that same expression you always wore - the one that seemed to say you knew everything that he never would. It equally fascinated him and infuriated him.

He hated the fact that you had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, causing his heart to race - had you snuck up on him on purpose? Did you find it funny?

“Y/N,” Dick said your name curtly, still feeling a slight twinge of shock that you were standing in front of him at all. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

You let out a dry chuckle, and stepped closer to him, making his whole body stiff. His first instinct was to step backward - to gain more distance from you. But he didn’t want to seem like he was afraid of you - afraid of that closeness. So he forcefully locked his legs and stayed in place as you drifted closer, and you idly conversed back.

“Oh, Dickie.” You sighed in return, using his childhood nickname. “A warm welcome as always.”

Dick rolled his eyes at this. Did he really need to bother with manners and formalities? The two of you had known each other for so long, he guessed that you were both well over stuff like that.

“Do I need a reason to be here? Can’t I just visit an old friend?” You posed, a humorous tone still running through your voice.

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he took a more defensive stance. He quickly went from shock then to annoyance.

The two of you were old friends - you had known each other since you were in diapers together. The two of you had grown up together, raised by a unique circus family. And that meant that Dick knew you well enough to know that if you were here, you had a good reason to be.

(If you had wanted to chase him when he first left Gotham, you likely would have camped out in the trunk of his car, or you would have shown up at his new apartment the day after he moved in. You wouldn’t have waited this long to contact him.)

“Do us both a favor and cut the bullshit, please.” Dick replied sternly. “Why are you here?”

“Grumpy.” You sighed, sounding defeated.

He waited for a moment, and surely enough - you folded, now willing to directly explain your reason for showing up in Detroit so suddenly.

“I had a vision.” You explained. “A girl. The Raven. A lot of others consider her to be the eater of worlds, but she is the one who is going to save us all, Dick.”

He let out a harsh puff of air, reaching up and running fingers roughly over his temple. Yup, there it was - the headache had fully set in now. He really didn’t need this. Not tonight.

He had known about your visions for a long time. When he was younger, he had been shocked to find out that you had inherited your mother’s ‘gift’. He previously had no clue that her set-up as a sideshow fortune teller with Tarot cards and a large crystal ball wasn’t all psychology tricks and half-guesses she put on for tourists - but in fact, it was actually something informed by larger supernatural forces at play. And it was something you could do as well.

So he was inclined to believe you when you told him about this vague vision, but he also didn’t want to be involved. He had a lot on his plate right now - he didn’t need this.

“Look, I’m sure that whatever you saw was important, but-” He began.

You sighed and shook your head harshly at this ‘but’.

“Why don’t you just take it to New York instead? This kind of thing is way more Donna’s speed, anyway. I’m sure she can help you find this girl, and-”

“That won’t help.” You told him. “The girl is already on her way here.”

You spoke the words with such utter certainty, and it sent shivers up Dick’s spine. The calm, tranquil look on your face - the ominous wiseness you held: it reminded Dick so much of your mother. The other-worldly authority she held that had ultimately gotten her killed. It was strangely creepy.

“Just so you know, I hate it when you say ominous shit like that.” Dick told you, gesturing to your person with stiff offense in his body. “Just because your mother played the creepy voodoo witch for tourists doesn’t mean you have to.”

“I’m not playing.” You replied, exasperated.

You knew that Dick could be frightened of your powers at times. He was someone very logic-based - he built his beliefs around facts. So having you follow your visions and your ‘gut feelings’ when they were never concrete, changing on a dime - he hated the uncertainty and chaos that came with it all. But you had learned to trust yourself and your feelings over time, even if he didn’t.

“And you know, you’re involved in this whether you want to be or not.” You told him, trying to get the conversation back on track. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Robin made his first appearance in months last night.”

Dick became stiff at this, and quickly glanced around - as though waiting for someone to appear out of nowhere and point an accusing finger at him, screaming out that he was Robin and he had been caught.

“You can’t help it, Dick Grasyon.” You declared with intense certainty. “You need to save people, you need to feel like you’re making a difference, you-”

“So what, now you expect me to save the whole fucking world?” Dick snapped back.

“She does.” You corrected.

“Who?” He replied - confused and once again annoyed at your mysticism and bold confidence in your visions.

“The Raven.” You told him. “She needs you. And whether you like it or not, you need her.”

You shifted your stance then, waiting for him to tell you that you were right - which was how most of your arguments ended.

But then, as a sick reminder, the lapel of your jacket opened enough for Dick to get a glance at your chest. The neckline of your blouse was wide open, but his eyes weren’t drawn to your cleavage - instead, he became focused on a large scar that you had sitting over your heart. A place where a bullet had ripped through you, leaving you barely alive.

He still remembered the feeling of your blood warm under his hands while you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, begging him to save you. He remembered sitting at your bedside, believing that you would never wake up again.

He couldn’t help but to reach up and gently skim his thumb across the roughness of the scarred skin as he glared at it with a stiff jaw. The touch sent shivers through you - it was the first time he had touched you since that last night in Gotham, when you had woken up to an empty bed and absolutely no explanation as to where he had gone.

Dick felt rage boil inside of him.

How could you ask him to save the world when he had been responsible for this?

This - this was why he was no fucking savior.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said, choking on the words slightly as he took his hand down, shoving it back into his pocket once again. He had to avoid the temptation of touching you any further.

If you weren’t safe around him, why would some little girl from your visions be?

“This isn’t about me.” You scoffed. “Or-”

‘Or us.’

You held back, knowing how dangerous it was to mention the royal Us around flighty Dick Grayson. For a bird without wings, he was absolutely capable of taking off in a quick moment when he wanted to.

“This is about something so much bigger.” You pressed. “She’ll be here soon.”

Dick let out another strained sigh at you using such ominous words again.

“Well, next time you’re gonna come here and be all ominous and creepy, you should at least bring some coffee.” He told you, sarcasm tight on his lips.

You made a mocking face in return.

“Well, you could be more polite.” You scoffed.

Before Dick could recommend that the two of you go and get a coffee in order to truly catch up, someone called out his name, drawing his attention away from you for a moment.

“Hey, Grayson!” Someone called, sticking their head out the front door. “Prentiss is looking for you!”

When he turned back, you were gone. He tried not to linger on it too much - how creepy it was. You were silent and quick like a ghost - he thought that your ominous jewelry might jingle like a house cat’s bell.

But - he would call you later. Hopefully you still had the same number.

…

Dick walked into the interrogation room, trying to clear his mind of the interaction with you. When he saw a small, scared girl, he thought it best to lighten the mood with a joke.

“Hi, I’m Detective Grayson.” He said, introducing himself. “I hear you like to play baseball with bricks and cop cars. You wanna tell me what happened?”

“You’re him.” She said, whimpering and tearful. “You’re the boy from the Circus.”

At first, Dick thought that everyone was simply being ominous and creepy today. But then he realized:

‘Oh fuck. You were right.’

...

A/N: Please do not ask me when this fic will be updated - this fic does not have a schedule.

While this is technically the first chapter in a 'series', each chapter is meant to be enjoyed on its own. The overarching plot of the series is still that of the original Titans show, and I won't be making any major changes to the canon of the show - I just intend to showcase smaller emotional moments between the reader character and the canon characters. This is something I want to work on casually in the background between working on other things. This fic is not my main focus, and I will not be rushing to update it or complete it.

Comments and reblogs are encouraged, and I am thankful for them - but please keep those comments focused on the actual content of the series (it's plot, the characters, their dynamics, etc.). Please do not spam me asking me to update this or asking me when I will update this - because I am not in a rush to do so. I have a lot of ideas for this series that I am excited about, but I want to work on it slowly and casually because I don't want to lose my enthusiasm for it and I know that rushing will take that enthusiasm away.

If you enjoyed this - great, thanks. But if you expect this to be updated weekly like a factory pumping out stuff on a clearly outlined schedule - then you are in the wrong place. If you are expecting constant updates of this fic and you will be disappointed if it doesn't get updated regularly - you should just block me now and pretend you didn't read it. But if you are a patient person - feel free to read and enjoy my other Titans works while I am working on updates for this (and working on other exciting things), and feel free to send me a message telling me what you thought of this fic or other fics in general.

Also - if you can't get Dick Grayson off your mind - my requests are open.

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #dc titans fanfiction #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #titans x you #titans x reader #bat boys x reader

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licorice-tea · 6 months

Text

Duty At The Expense Of Desire

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: mild cursing, lots of arguing between reader and Law, reader is nervous to be in a relationship, platonic luffy and reader <3, reader loves the strawhats a lot :)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: i spent so long just rereading this, i don’t know why but it feels kind of hard to understand? so i might revise it again in the future idk yet! i hope you enjoy reading, again this is very very loosely based on kate and anthony’s season in bridgerton! it was originally going to be 2 parts, but it’s looking like a full on series now… lmk if you want to be tagged in future parts! enjoy! <3

Part 2 | Part 4

Now that your feelings for Law have been revealed- not only to him but to yourself- you find the tension between the two of you is undeniably different from before.

What were once looks of contempt now harbor some quiet desire. Chances of accidentally brushing shoulders when you pass by each other are avoided altogether, for fear of fueling a fire neither of you know how to deal with. And any crass or biting quips are cut out of your minimal interactions completely, as you both now feel they come off as flirtatious rather than standoffish.

A few days have gone by since you confronted Law and he admitted his true feelings for you, all of which have been spent at sea. Nami says there won’t be an island to dock at for at least another three days, given how the weather is slowing the ship, so your crew’s only source of entertainment is each other.

“Y/n,” she asks while the two of you along with Robin relax on the deck, “what happened between you and Traffy the other day?”

Your breath hitches and you cough unnecessarily, already giving away your nervousness to the two very observant women. “Uh, not much.”

“Well, what did you two talk about? You didn’t come back to the table after, so I thought you must have stayed together…” Robin smiles softly, baiting you to reveal more.

“What? No, no, oh my god no… We just…”

Nami urges you on with a sing-song voice; “You just?”

“We… talked.”

“Talked about what?”

“I don’t know. Our issues with each other.”

“And you resolved them?”

“Come on, y/n, tell us what happened!”

“Nothing happened.”

You stand up then, too annoyed to continue talking to your friends. It’s not even their fault really; you would want to know what had gone on too, if the roles were reversed. Maybe you’re just annoyed with yourself for not being able to face your own feelings.

With no particular destination in mind, you find yourself in the Thousand Sunny’s library. When you open the door, you see Law browsing the selection of books your crew has accumulated throughout your travels. You shouldn’t be surprised to see him, but you are.

That’s what it must be; what other reason could there be for the sudden raving of your heart and your breath hitching? Any feelings you ever had for him were buried deep inside after last night; too deep to allow yourself to feel them to the extent you were currently, and so these must all be signs of surprise.

You steel yourself and walk in, letting the door close behind you. Law looks up to find out who the person intruding on his studying is, but his eyes are blown wide when he makes eye contact with you. Neither of you speaks as you turn away and cross the room in quick strides to another section of the library.

“Stupid Law,” you think as you try to calm your mind- an impossible task when he’s standing anywhere in the same room. “Stupid weather,” preventing you from getting to an island so you can get some damn space from him. “Stupid library, ” because of its shelves that make it all too easy and tempting to peak through and catch a glimpse of him.

Actually, maybe that’s not too risky of an idea. Cautiously, you bend down slightly and pretend to scan the titles on the shelf. You allow your eyes to slowly wander off the books until you can see Law by peering upwards. But low and behold, he’s staring right back at you.

You gasp and stand up straight, silently cursing your silly plan.

“Y/n.” He walks over to you, 2 books tucked under his arm. “l was under the impression you wanted me to keep your distance from me.”

“I do.”

“I find that hard to believe with the way you’ve been acting around me.”

“It’s just weird. You made me admit that I had feelings for you, and now things are weird.”

“I made you? You didn’t have to say anything, you could’ve rejected me and we both would’ve moved on.”

“I did reject you.”

“By telling me you feel the same? That’s some rejection.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

“I had to, you told me that you thought I hated you.”

“But I didn’t make you say that you have feelings for me, and so now you’ve made it impossible to ignore.”

“Believe me, I tried to ignore it. To ignore you. It was pointless.”

“Then you weren’t trying hard enough. I could’ve gone a lifetime without bringing up the way I feel for you if it means my crew will be able to continue this alliance for our goals.”

“Don’t give me that shit, your captain made this alliance because he thinks we’re friends. You seriously think he had a goal in mind while doing so?”

With a roll of your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest. “Maybe not, but Luffy is the captain- I trust him, and so I follow him in any endeavor he believes in.”

“Well, I’m the captain of my own crew, and I believe that whatever we have going on is a little more than ally-ship.”

“Regardless of whatever is going on between us, is it really a smart idea to complicate such an important alliance?”

“…No. I suppose it’s not.”

“Then drop it-” You turn, ready to forget about this conversation and continue hiding your feelings away when he grabs your wrist.

“But they wouldn’t care, y/n, and you know that. Your crew thrives on-” he gestures vaguely with his free hand, “-friendship and rainbows and joy.”

Shaking off a smile, you bite back. “That might be true, but you know what’s even more important to my crew? Protecting each other. They wouldn’t like me being with you; even if we are temporary allies, you’re a Captain of another crew and one of the Supernovas. So don’t tell me what they would and wouldn’t be ok with.”

Law seems to think for a second before he releases your wrist. “Hmph.”

Finally, you take your leave to find somewhere- with no Law and no watchful friends- to just think.

You settle on the bow of the ship. If you had an ability like Luffy’s or any guarantee that you wouldn’t slip right off and into the sea, you would like to sit on the masthead of the Sunny. A clear, unobstructed view of the world ahead, and the breeze to keep the hair out your eyes could be so peaceful. But, this has some sort of charm to it as well; you do seem to love a challenge (even if it’s one as simple as having to lean over the railing of a ship to see the horizon).

With a cheerful call, the man you had just been thinking of joins you on the railing by the ship’s bow. Luffy speaks animatedly of his plans for all sorts of things, but during a lull in conversation, he asks you something unexpected.

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Traffy! Do you love him?”

“I…”

“You’ve said how much you hate him, but that just means your feelings for him are strong. So you love him, right?”

You’ve never been more bothered to hear Luffy say something so uncharacteristically observant.

“I love you guys.”

He hums. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t love other people, too.”

“…I won’t ever leave this crew, Luffy.”

“Of course you won’t!” He latches onto you in an iron-grip hug, and you smile ever so slightly. “But, y/n.”

“Yeah?”

He releases you and instead grabs your shoulders to talk to you face to face. His face seems especially serious- the same way it does when he makes a bold declaration of his dreams or beliefs. “If you love someone, you tell them. You don’t hide it, because you never know when they could be gone.”

Finally, your barely-there smile opens into a full grin. “When did you get to be so wise?”

Luffy shrugs. “Shanks told me that once, I just felt it made sense for you too.”

You and your captain stay there a while longer, giggling over this and that until the sun starts to set on the horizon.

“I'm gonna go sit on Sunny- you wanna come with me?”

Though you’d been fantasizing over what it would feel like up there just a few minutes ago, you shake your head. “No thanks. But, uh, Luffy?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you… not tell anyone about what we talked about?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, for sure!”

You would come to regret being so vague with your captain, even if he does occasionally display astonishing emotional intelligence.

At dinner- where there’s always something going on- you make an effort to sit far from Law. Your attempt is in vain, however, as he ends up right across from you. Luffy sits to your left, and while he takes a small break from stuffing his mouth, he nudges you with his elbow.

Your eyes meet your captain’s as he winks at you, then looks over at Law, and back to you. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he had some sort of… plan in the works. With a wide grin, he asks, “Soooo Y/n, when are you and Traffy going to get married?”

A moment of silence passes before laughter erupts around the table from everyone except you and “Traffy.” The latter covers his face with one hand and pinches the bridge of his nose while you look simply horrified.

What had happened to not speaking of your earlier conversation? Admittedly, you had spoken of several subjects after your discussion of your feelings for Law… and knowing Luffy, he could have mistaken your vow of silence to be for any one of those subjects.

Since you’re sure your captain didn’t mean to embarrass you with his straightforward view of relationships, you just shake your head and give a muttered response. “We- we’re not, um, going to….”

Law, on the other hand, appears too bothered to stick around and listen to any more jokes. He stands abruptly and disappears in a flash of blue light.

You stick around long enough to finish your plate, then thank Sanji and leave quietly. Some unknown force draws you to Law, when you see him in Nami’s little grove of orange trees. Cautiously, you approach him.

“…Law? I- I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why Luffy said that.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“Okay, Law, they were all just joking. And I can’t even really blame them, because this entire situation is pretty fucking ridiculous.”

“No, y/n, it’s embarrassing that everybody knows how I feel and that you feel the same, and they’re all happy with the idea of us together, but you still don’t want to be with me.”

“It’s not personal, you know that.”

“How can it not be personal?”

“Everything I do is for my crew. I have a duty to them, and not even you or my own feelings will get in the way of that.”

“Do you seriously still believe that they would care if we were together?”

You purse your lips.

“I took your word for it at first, because you know your own crew better than I do, but clearly they have very little regard for what we do. Now I am inclined to believe that you made it up when you said they wouldn’t like us being… being something. And as foolish as I feel after believing that ridiculous excuse, I still want you, y/n. Tell me you want me too.”

“How much?” You ask with a fierce look.

“How much what?”

“How much do you want me, Law? You keep talking about your feelings for me, but you haven’t even said what they are.”

Again, you seem to find any way to continue arguing with the man before you as a means of releasing pent-up feelings. Just kissing him might be easier, but also a whole lot more terrifying and uncertain.

“Desire, attraction, whatever you want to call it-“

“Well, I’m not going to put everything on the line for someone who is attracted to me.”

“It’s more than that, you know that-“

“You know what I think?”

“…What?”

“I think that you can’t even admit to yourself- let alone aloud- the extent of your feelings for me. You want me to say it first so that nothing bad will happen if you put yourself out there, and that’s not going to happen.”

“I-“ He starts to speak, but can’t think of a rebuttal. You have him pegged. “I may not know exactly what my feelings are yet, but I can feel them, y/n. You remain on my mind constantly- so if you want me to stop feeling for you, then you need to stop.”

“Oh, I need to stop?”

“Yes, you-“

“You’re the one constantly making me reconsider everything I tell myself. You are the one who needs to stop.”

“Before what? Before we give in to this… obvious desire, and put aside duties to do something for ourselves?”

Heavy breathing fills the silence. He always manages to rile you up, and you can’t stand it.

“You should go. No, in fact,” you raise your hands in a gesture of surrender, “I’ll go.”

Without giving him the chance to respond, you flee down the stairs to the main deck and through the doors to the cabin hall. All this back and forth with Law is giving you a headache.

You can’t deny it any longer though; now that your captain knows too, it’s like you’ve spoken it into permanent existence. You’re in love with Law, and there’s next to nothing stopping you from being with him in the way you truly desire. Not even your sense of duty.

You should never have counted on the Strawhats to hold you back from something- or someone you love.

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake @pinki-minki @loserbee14

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #law x reader #law x you #law x y/n #straw hat pirates #trafalgar d law x reader #law fluff #law angst #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #straw hat reader #luffy x reader #platonic luffy x reader #cat burglar nami #nico robin

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cloveroctobers · 8 months

Text

FEBRUARY FLUFF — CARMY BERZATTO.

A/N: so carmy won this time around!!! Thanks to all those that voted and ultimately made this decision for me lol. Hope you guys enjoy this and have a safe, healthy, and happy love season 🩷 + yes this is a mixture of fluff and angst...i mean come on! I wouldn't be me if i didn't include that in here somewhere!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 1. “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.” “What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” + always giving the other the first bite of their food < or the last.

WARNINGS/SN: I wrote with a black or brown reader in mind although reader isn't physically described + they’re given a name only when mentioned, language is a thing here duh!, this is LENGTHY, lots of timelines: reader + nat became friendly before season 1 during the summer prior to 7 fishes which is estimated to be five years before season 2, reader knows of carmy due to past work, I feel like she can be just a few year(s) older than carmy but younger than nat—there’s a age gap for the Berzatto’s anyways, sexual relations are mentioned, this piece takes place months after the grand opening, & finally there’s a possible chance for a poly relationship or maybe just multiple crushes going on? Take that how you will.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

it was a Sunday.

The kind of Sunday you woke up embarrassed about but knew you had to swallow your pride and just send out that text. You knew you wouldn’t be judged regardless reaching out to Fak because he’s built to deal with things like this and never made you feel like shit about anything.

You usually had to squeeze it out of him to get him to lay out any cons about a situation but appreciated most times when he didn’t. Your minds been going haywire with a recent assignment as a food journalist and it really slipped your mind, although you were usually a quick thinker, you’ve been stressed over this recent restaurant. Thankfully it clicked for you after throwing a tantrum to simply reach out to Fak to come help you out.

The stupid lever in your bathroom decided to stop flushing on you and of course you panicked. Who wouldn’t panic in a situation like that? You no longer had a roommate and strongly debated if you even wanted to search for another; after the shady actions of the previous one, so you really didn’t have to worry about them giving you shit either. (Let’s see if your rent feels the same next month!)

It was just you in the end and perhaps you were learning to be okay with that.

Yet that didn’t stop you from FaceTiming Sydney about it. “Hey Siddy, how’s your day going?”

“Pretty good, yours?” She politely asked as she moved down the hallway of her shared apartment to prop her phone on the pedestal sink, moving around her functioning bathroom to grab some oil to grease her scalp.

Smacking your lips you glare, “it fucking sucks.”

“Oh?” Sydney questioned, appearing back in frame, “what happened? Did someone egg and scratch up your car again after a review you gave them? Noo wait, don’t tell me there’s a bullet hole?!”

That was light work compared to New York (it really wasn’t a competition of which state had its worst moments but your home state left you kinda triggered, not gonna lie!) where you were just starting off and those that were in tune with the culinary world didn’t take your words with a grain of salt. Most nights you still woke up gasping for air, reaching for your throat due to some trauma of a break in from a well-known nepo-baby chef. Don’t get that twisted, your mom didn’t raise no punk but that didn’t mean those events didn’t mess with your mental and you acknowledged that every time you had a nightmare. They only served three years and five months compared to the original five year sentence.

Ah the system…got to love how that works out for the privileged!

You shrugged, “no…the threats have been pretty tame lately so I can give myself a pat on the back for that. However! I still am in a crisis.”

Sydney begins to move her braids around to expose her scalp, “Elaborate for me.”

“My toilet won’t flush!” You whine, laying flat on your messy bed. You tended to not make your bed on Saturdays and didn’t get around to making it today—although it was after 3pm.

Sydney asks, “Like the waste won’t go down…?”

“Exactly!” You confirm throwing your arm over your eyes dramatically, “The lever thing is moving like my old dislocated shoulder.”

Sydney gags, “don’t fucking remind me of that day. That was spooky to witness but I am glad you healed from that.”

“Thanks girl, means a lot, truly.”

Sydney gives a small smile, “don’t mention it…have you considered YouTubing it? That’s what I do when I don’t want to ask anyone for help and figure it out by myself.”

You hummed knowing this was true. In a sense you could be like that too, especially when it came to the working field, since writers can tend to be some nasty bitches and always in rivalry with each other. You made a name for yourself in Chicago as well, coming from New York where you worked just as hard-maybe even harder than the rest to mean and write exactly how you felt about cuisine, regardless if anyone agreed or not. It wasn’t about if people liked you, the relationship with food would always be more significant and hold value in your life, just like the rest of these chef’s you encountered and you got that, people were allowed to be sensitive about their work. You’ve come toe to toe with many chef’s around the world who didn’t like your take on their craft but that didn’t mean you didn’t understand them. They hardly took the time to really dive into your ratings and automatically took it as you shit talking or not having any idea what you were saying since you “weren’t really a chef,” but you knew your worth most days.

Yes you could be straight forward but that didn’t mean you lacked compassion like some chef’s liked to think according to your reviews. You often wrote in a way that was puzzling to some, almost philosophical or riddle like with your own twist. Some just didn’t get it and that was okay but you wouldn’t back down from any confrontation. The second they didn’t want to really listen, that’s when you removed yourself from the escalating problem. It didn’t have to get violent like some wanted to inflict.

“Why didn’t I think of that?!” You exasperated, slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead.

Sydney snorted, “maybe because you’re under a lot of pressure lately and the most simplest of things don’t come as easily as they should.”

“You would think I have high blood pressure with the way these past two weeks have been.”

Sydney says, “give it time.”

“Gee, thanks! That’s exactly the kind of shit I want to hear from you.” You roll your eyes at the blurt of words that commonly escaped the braided girl’s mouth.

Sydney breathes out a laugh, “I’m just joking!”

“Yeah, yeah! Maybe I should text fak back and tell him not to come by!”

“You asked fak instead of the apartment manager?” Sydney is in amazement.

“Fuck that noise, he’s so full of shit that he should see a doctor about it. He’ll show up to analyze the problem, then acts like he’s going to fit you into the schedule and then when you catch him in the lobby he pretends that he has amnesia.” You commented with a scowl.

You get ready to minimize the call to text fak but some obnoxious knocks at the door made you pop up from your bed. “That was fast!”

Hopping up from the bed and padding out of the last bedroom in the apartment, you made the journey through the foyer to the awaiting black front door. Peeking through the peephole you spot Fak grinning widely up into it, almost making you jump back.

“He’s made it Siddy! I’ll call you back!”

“K. Good luck!” Sydney calls out before you end the call to pull the door wide open.

“Neil!” You scream, quickly latching onto his tatted wrist ready to yank him in until you notice someone else is with him, “…why is he here?” You point.

Fak quickly glances over at a brimmed Carmy who raised a brow at him in a silent told you so manner, “I mean we were having a boy’s day when you called and I didn’t want my buddy to be left out. Plus, it’s always great to have some assistance.”

“…i find it hard to believe that Carmen wants to fix my toilet.” You cross your arms, poking out your hip as you stare at him.

Carmen shrugs his shoulders, “I wanted to wait in the car if it makes you feel any better.”

“Hmm…it doesn’t.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose briefly in agitation, “you know what, fak you’ve got this right? I know you do so—

“Nope!” Fak quickly interrupts, “this maybe a two person job so aspie if you just let us do what we came to do—

Shooting an arm out to block the doorway you peer into Fak’s dark teal eyes to show you mean business, “didn’t I say I dislike that nickname, Neil?”

He nods.

“Also i find it offensive that you brought an uninvited guest to my place.”

“Just be glad it wasn’t Richie because that was also a possibility before he ran off to pick up the kid.” Carmy snaps making you roll your eyes.

If Richie was here you been would have slammed the door in both Fak and his face. Sure you had some sort of tension with Carmy and beef with .......his cousin but at least Carmy only gave it back to you when he had the energy to—meaning if he was already on one. The issue was simple, you wrote a not so nice review once before when the eldest berzatto, Michael was alive and running the joint. Richie couldn’t forget that and actually kept the clipping, yes the clipping of the review way back when. He had the receipts to show Carmy and Carmy actually brushed it off then, not seeming to really care or doubt some of the words that were said.

He came to revamp the place because Mikey left it for him, to fix the mess his big brother left behind, to create what they’ve always dreamed of. Sure he got shit for it in the beginning and part of him felt like maybe that was your case too? He could relate to you on that, yet the weight was slightly different on his part and he even spoke with you not long after he found those tomato cans.

That gave him a certain push he couldn’t really explain. He may have done a brief dive on you, wondering why you felt acquainted to him—completely forgetting about seeing you once around Noma—choosing to start with reading previous reviews by you on other restaurants here in Chicago and a few interviews you’ve done over the world. You weren’t just some nobody, you held your titles well and it reflected in your work.

You weren’t clueless.

He just didn’t really know what he was dealing with until a short time ago.

What he didn’t expect was for you to show up again on opening night with a certain head chef, also from New York. That made carmy more anxious than anything, seeing you sitting beside that four eyed fuck ready to set off a tornado in the heart of the bear. Was that your motive all along? With carmy attempting to build a bridge, not for you to kiss his ass with praise but there was a odd need to have a simple conversation with you. It was weird but it seemed like Sydney, Fak, and Nat liked you?

The jury was still out with the rest—except Richie but you were a mystery to Carmy. However carmy wasn’t the best at putting a read on people or their emotions in the first place, he was good at fucking that up unless you’re screaming it into his face. That’s just how he operated.

“You two can come in—only because I don’t have the patience with the manager here and Neil’s the best I’m gonna get.” You state while fak slaps a hand on his chest.

“That was really sweet, Aspen.” Fak cooed ready to pull you into a bone crushing hug but you hold up a finger.

“Save the hugs until after you fix my problem.”

“You got it boss,” Fak salutes before diving under your arm to travel through your apartment, ooo-ing and ah-ing before finding the bathroom around the corner from the living room.

Sighing you drop your arm and wave carmy through, who keeps his view straight while traveling through the hallway. You call out to him, “you can have a seat on the couch.”

“What? Did you drop a load or something and is that the real reason why you don’t want me to help Fak?” Carmy comes right out with it, nose twitching in amusement after whipping around to face you in the center of the living room.

See…only when he’s frustrated or overly focused will he just let it out. Some may look at this as Carmy attempting to make a joke but you took that somewhat personally. The only thing you were thinking after he said this was: What an ego on this one huh?

You stop on your heels and tilt your head to the side, “are you telling me that you think women or fem pronoun users don’t take shits? Do you know what it feels like to have period shits?”

Carmy blinks at you and shouts with his hands out, “I...don't even know what the fuck you're getting at? I wasn't even trying to be sexist to you just then! I asked you a honest question—

“About you being in my business,” you pointed out, “contrary to your beliefs I have a heart and decided to be nice to you and let you stay in my place to keep warm. You’re welcome!”

“Oh bullshit, don’t act like you’re doin’ me any favors.” Carmy scowls, “you don’t even want me here.”

You shrug, “yet you’re here in my apartment, yelling.”

Carmy exhaled while you smirked at him sweetly before turning to lean against the wall that leads to the bathroom.

“Everything okay in there, Neil?”

“Oh yeah!” He says, “I think I figured out the problem. Easy peasy!”

“Great!” You exclaim, pulling your phone out from your sweats to read a very important email.

The weight of stress seemed to lift a good chunk as you quickly responded to a email that you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been invited out (squeezed in) to a taste test at this restaurant for this evening that you’ve been trying to get into for a month before you brought it up to your employer. The deadline was approaching for the end of this week to have a review ready and they just responded to you five days before that deadline! Reading over it twice, the squeal in you slipped through your smile until you read the exceptions.

If you were to go over the amount of food purchased, which you would put on the company card anyways, you can get a discount if you brought a plus one and some reimbursement if the review was satisfactory to the owners—which the last part wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

You usually didn’t bring a plus one to any of the places you did reviews for, you got comfortable doing outings all on your own but this was different. Sure you were somewhat known in the culinary world but that didn’t mean you were a millionaire and this restaurant was apparently upscale. There was a waiting list regardless of your status—even for the celebrities that went there so this was a big deal and they gave you a short notice. Usually Sundays were known for a reset for the week but what better way to start it?

You don’t go forward with reaching out to anybody else that you work with. This was your battle and you were aware that two of your other co-workers also reached out to this restaurant. You just hoped you were the only one they picked and wouldn’t miss out on the great opportunity just because you weren’t sure about your guest.

A few hours before show time and you had to find somebody to attend with you. Your best friend was away in Cabo for a honeymoon, the other (who recently planned on moving to ATL) was dealing with the flu and had their no good ex boyfriend taking care of them, Sydney was suddenly MIA, and you even considered inviting Natalie Berzatto to piss carmy off just a bit.

“Hey, Nat!” You greet into the phone as you walk into the kitchen, witnessing Carmy perk up from the couch.

It’s small talk at first: you asking about how her day is going as a mom to be, if she’s going to be at the bear tomorrow, did she watch the Emmy’s the other night, tell her husband you said hello, and then finally if she had plans for tonight.

“…are you asking me to hang out?”

“We had fun at that club way back when no?”

“Yeah! But that was how long ago?”

You knew it’s been awhile. You were always friendly with Natalie, meeting her first—well second out of the siblings down at the small mart one summer you helped out at that your great-uncle owned. She was huffing about something her boyfriend at the time, Pete forgot to bring her and some groceries she was picking up for her mom. You were cool enough to become Facebook friends, exchange numbers, go out for coffee and go to the club together. This wasn’t unusual to call each other randomly but you knew she commonly got shit from Michael and Richard about her talking and hanging out with you.

The thing about Natalie Berzatto is that she always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yes she saw your review yet she kinda laughed about it initially but it was all fuck you’s from the other two loud mouth’s. Of course she was going to listen to her brother but she still had a mind of her own. she didn’t care to listen to Richie go off but she understood how Michael felt, although she was the only other Berzatto that heard you out.

Except you didn’t owe anybody an explanation even if some felt you were more cutthroat in your younger years.

“...Before you and Pete even thought about marriage?”

You were younger than them but you imagined how it would always work out for Nat and Pete, which included growing old together.

“Wow! Yeah that sounds right.”

“So…?”

“Can’t do it.”

“You didn’t even hear all the details!”

“I know, I know and it sounds like it’ll be a real fucking blast but if this kid wasn’t sitting on my sciatic nerve constantly and if my feet weren’t the size of two honeydews…I totally would! But I’ll have to decline this time around—so please don’t hate me!”

“I could never!”

“You know you could always ask carmy-

“Why on earth would I do that?” Your reply was instant.

Natalie sighed over the phone, “aspen…the potential of friendship and love is a beautiful thing.”

You scrunched up your face at the phone before placing it back to your ear.

“Do you want me to hang up on you?”

“I’d call you a rude bitch if you did but then get over it.”

“I can live with that because I know it’s real love between you and I.”

“…whatever that means.”

“Right.”

You both laugh, knowing just how weird the subject of love can be. Although you didn’t talk all the time it was always okay for one of the other to drop a venting text or call each other’s way and know the other would get around to responding. The both of you may not be the best of friends but you did consider each other friends regardless. There were conversations between the both of you that no one knew about and would be a constant reminder of what kind of friends the both of you would remain.

Natalie wished things could have been resolved between you and Michael but she reassured that the dislike wasn’t as deep as it seemed. There was no secret that you felt awful about how his life ended and being there for nat during that time also meant a lot. She told you that one of the last conversations she had with Michael was about you and it felt as if he was learning to let go of your review, slowly taking in Nat’s words of you not having a cruel bone in your body especially with all that you’ve done for her.

Anybody that showed his sister true friendship couldn’t be complete garbage. As much as he tolerated Pete, Michael was always aware that he was good enough for his sister. They were all cut from different cloths and the Berzatto’s were just from the same but opposite corner’s.

Natalie telling you this was not to erase any worries you had since that is always brought to the surface when someone you’ve been face to face with before decides to end it all. It was to show you that nobody ever truly knows what anyone is thinking whether there is love there or not.

You can feel Natalie smiling through the phone, “Think about it…all that tension could be smoothed out if you extend the olive branch…now it’s your turn.”

“It’s not my fault he switched up on me after your opening night.” You didn’t lower your voice or make it louder but you were definitely staring at carmy now who was side eyeing you, looking like phineas from phineas and ferb.

“That’s something you need to talk to him about, don’t you think?” Her tone was always so gentle that it made you sick sometimes because she could be right.

“I’m not here to do think pieces.”

“…aren’t you a writer?”

“Have a good night, nat.”

“Ta-Ta!” Natalie sing-songs, “be sure to send me the deets later because carmy never tells me anything! Bye! Chat later!”

Hanging up the phone, you slide it onto the counter and tap your nails against the island. To the right of you, you pick up on some clinking in the bathroom—which sounds somewhat normal and zone in on carmy who’s also holding onto his phone but staring at the blank tv in thought.

“Hey, Carmen.” You call his name.

His bright blues turn to you as if he hasn’t been eavesdropping on your conversation here and there between his texts with Marcus.

“You. Me. The Saffron Simmer. 7pm.”

The air is frigid as the both of you hunch your shoulders shoving through Chicago’s winter. Shockingly the streets are filled with cars tonight so you had to park on the next street over before walking up and around to The Saffron Simmer. Carmy offered to drive, which was a debate—no shock there—since there was no way he was leaving the bear stock van behind for no license having fak to play around in.

Fak definitely found that offensive and said he didn’t mind hanging out at your place, being done with your toilet but with the look you sent him he said he’s find an Uber or fak2 can pick him up. It’s not like you didn’t trust fak in your place…it’s just that the possibilities of what he can get into are endless.

You also didn’t want to ride in the bear’s van not because of shallow reasons, you just wanted to annoy carmy just a bit more for fun. Walking mostly everywhere was the way to go growing up in New York and Carmy working there so doing so here in Chicago wasnt foreign either. However with the type of cold here in this city is enough to give the bravest of hearts hypothermia. So obviously driving was the best option, it’s just the petty back and forth between you two of who will drive had to be spewed.

Eventually you gave in and sat in the passenger side of the van, being on DJ duty for the twenty-five minute drive—something carmy didn’t care to argue over. The both of you made it on time, throwing the door back for carmy to catch then bouncing on your toes while he blew into his gloveless hands waiting on the greeter to find your reservation.

The pictures didn’t do The saffron simmer any justice. There was so much to look at with its modernized speakeasy décor and the high ceilings did a superb job of making the both of you feel small in the spacious space. Thankfully the dress code was business casual so you didn’t have to go all out but you still put in the effort of looking your best in simple attire. You’re shrugging out of your scarf, earmuffs, and puffer coat while Carmy is already seated; with only the removal of his cap across from you in a chair.

He’s watching you as you place everything neatly to the right of you before you're taking a seat in the leather oversized chair, then digging through your tote to pull out your notepad, Sony camera, phone, and bolt pen. You quickly scribble something on the first line and circle it before dropping your pen.

Rolling the sleeves of your long sleeves back underneath your blazer, you roll your shoulders with a close of your eyes before opening them with a look of determination.

“Wow, that was something.” Carmy tells you, making you set your eyes back on him, forgetting just that quick that he was your plus one.

Clasping your hands together you quirk up a brow, “What?”

“Watching you prep.”

You dip your head, “should have seen me before I got dressed…much worse.”

A smirk appears on the corner of Carmy’s lips, “oh yeah?”

“Well yes, I can contain myself in public, Carmen. Your home is supposed to be your safe space so that’s the best place to go a little crazy sometimes.” You inform, yet still not giving too much away.

“Why are you in your head about this place anyway?” Carmy peers around the slightly filled dining area before meeting your eyes once more.

You lift your shoulders, “have you seen the way they market this place? Giving not too much away although it’s top ten restaurants here and I can either contribute to its success or its downfall. They picked me for a reason so my review matters at the end of this year.”

“But you uh-get a thrill out of this shit don’t you? It’s what you signed up for, right?” Carmy is actually relaxed against the chair across from you.

Which is a sight to see.

You state, “it’s part of the job, if that’s what you mean.”

Carmy blinks and seems to get it, “and so you stay.”

“So I stay.” You echo while holding his stare, which is broken by a piece of the stone table lifting and showcasing the menu illuminated by sepia lighting in the dark of the restaurant.

Carmy’s bright eyes are wide as he stares at the menu that appears right in front of your faces. There’s a grin on your face as you rest your fingertips around its rough edges, almost as if you were expecting this while carmy blows out a breath.

“The hell is this place?”

You peek over at him, “some next level shit, berzatto.”

“Yeah…I think I’m starting to catch on.”

You turn your attention back to the menu, swiping your fingertips along the touch screen although you’ve heard things about the menu, which they kept offline since apparently it renews monthly.

“What looks good?”

“Uh…these pages aren’t even labeled." Carmy exhales through his nose, eyes searching all over the tablet, "I have no clue. You?”

The words come at ease for you, "One of almost everything maybe?”

“Sounds good...I guess?”

“On me by the way,” you state with a wink as you flash your company card.

“I’ll get the tip then.” Carmy pats his jeans, the left containing his carton of cigarettes, the right holding his keys, lifting his hips he checks for his wallet although he’s been sitting on his behind for about ten minutes now.

You don’t argue with that, eyes in awe at the selection of items as you start ordering, “don’t forget to order your drink.”

“Water should be fine,” Carmy mutters to himself, eyes scanning over the first strange title of water that is described as flower and ginger infused purified water and decides to go with that.

You finally express after rapidly letting your fingers go over the screen and taking a picture with your phone, “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.”

It sounded so easy to you as you quickly shifted to pick up your pen and start writing notes.

“What was that?” Carmy pressed his elbows into the edge of the table, making sure he heard you right since he’s not even sure if he can trust his inner thoughts lately.

You’re still scribbling but also turning your face towards the messy haired chef, “you heard me. We have to act like we’re in a relationship because I’ve definitely went over the budget on the card.”

“That’s not really my problem?”

“Yes it is,” you demand, “you agreed to be my plus one so that’s that. Plus this menu further confirmed my suspicions from the email.”

Carmy scratches at his brow confused, “what are you talking about, aspen?”

“Here,” you swipe across your screen towards Carmy’s device, which brings up another screen instantly to carmy who’s in awe but scans over the details.

You didn’t share the email with him but he’s heard about how high tech this restaurant is but didn’t have the time to do his own research.

*Significant others in attendance are subject to applicable discounts.*

Carmy feels his stomach cramp at the fine print and it so small that he was sure anyone could have missed that.

Not you.

“…how exactly are we supposed to prove that, hm?” He's gripping at his greasy hair now, feeling himself getting a bit worked up about this.

You fanned your hand along, “just do what couples do and follow my lead...Depending on our witnesses,” you whisper as you look around, “they could always assume that’s what we are anyways.”

Part of carmy didn’t like how that came off.

“What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” Flies out of Carmy’s mouth before he can even process what he’s saying.

That stoops you too, making you press your back against the chair in thought. That wouldn’t be going down in the notes, as you stare at the pen in between your fingers for a moment. Which brings you back to Carmy’s tatted fingers first that touched you in ways that romance novelist craved to write about.

So you may have left that out, how a shared conversation about the “heartless” review of then Chicagoland turned the bear melted into hot and heavy actions in the front seat of your Mazda. It hits you in those same flashes you take of dishes: the unsure sloppy kisses, you taking the lead to get Carmy to just touch you, shaky hands that trace the tattoo from your rib cage down to your hip before soon holding steady and angled just right beneath your red tapered trousers.

“Where did that come from?” You question just as a server greets you, delivering drinks and announcing the small plates should be out in the next five minutes with a timer appearing on both of the stone tablets.

Carmy says, “you—you didn’t just think I forget right?”

“Well I was hoping.” You were honest, “neither of us are ready for relationships—especially hearing about you and Claire.”

Carmy felt his eye twitch, “and how do you know about that?”

Sydney.

You wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that although you could tell carmy already knew.

“I have my resources but don’t think I’ve been asking around about you or anything like that.” You sipped at the raspberry mint cocktail, it could be stronger.

His thumbs are shaking first on the table top but his icy stare made your chest pulsate in a way you didn't particularly like, “…would that be so bad?”

You and carmy didn’t exactly know each other well enough besides a conversation once had and with his hand down your pants! and you trying to get him to crash, clothes still on right in the center of his lap—It was a spur of the moment hookup and you could tell it was not something that happened often for carmy. He never had time for it or bothered to get attached but there was something about you that had him thinking otherwise. What was supposed to be a one time thing that you swept to the back of your mind was being brought up again.

The annoyance overtook what that feeling brought in the front seat of your ride. You weren’t ignoring carmy after that but the both of you had a lot on your plate with him renovating a restaurant and you diving back into your own work. Both fields of work seemed to matter more and not once did you think he ever thought about you in that way.

Communication was important people!

And here you thought he wanted nothing to do with you, especially with you showing up to the grand opening of The Bear. Now here you were months later, basically at your benefit, face to face hearing only pieces of what Carmen Berzatto was thinking.

“Hey, guys!” A familiar voice gathers your attention and you both turn to see Sydney smiling at you two.

Carmy widens his eyes, “Syd, what’re you doing here?”

Sydney snorted, “doing the same thing you’re doing? Having dinner.”

“Right.” He lightly shakes his head.

“Oh my god…am I interrupting this um? Date?” Sydney quickly connected the dots eyeing the both of you back and forth while you’re choking on your drink, “you okay?”

She pats your back for you while you gasp and Carmy slides over his water your way although you have your own glass near by. Gaining some air, you swallow some water and breathe through your nose. Normally you would have a response for Sydney’s joke but given what carmy just said to you had your mind running along with some burning tears you wiped away.

“So this is where you’ve been instead of answering me back?” You decide to switch the subject-you were great at that-wheezing a bit while Carmy scoffs and looks away.

Sydney frowns, “huh? When did you call me besides the FaceTime call…” she starts and pulls out her phone, “oh shit sorry. I placed it on do not disturb like thirty minutes after you didn’t call me back. I got wrapped into some entail about the menu from one of the chef’s that works here and is also a friend.”

Carmy speaks, “Didn’t know you had a connect with anybody here, Syd.”

“Can’t reveal all my moves, Carm.” She winks and lightly elbows him while Carmy sends her a small smile and a shake of his head.

Carmy asks, “scooping out our competition?”

“Only a little," She pinches her fingers before continuing, "and my dad thought it would be a place I wanted to try.” Sydney admits, “and if you two weren’t on a date I’d say let’s make this a group thing! so I’ll be going! I see my dad coming back from the bathroom…he’s got like a bladder problem and I don’t know why I’m sharing that with you two. But bye! Enjoy and just know I’ll be keeping my eye on you two.”

“Fuck,” carmy exhaled feeling his nerves rising, “don’t do that.”

Sydney chuckles to herself and sends a wave to you two before walking back to her table by the window.

“Siddy kicked me to the curb for her dad,” you sigh resting your cheek into your knuckles for a moment, “can’t be mad at that.”

“But you can be mad at me for what exactly?”

“You wanna do this with me right now?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“I thought we could move past what happened—

“You can say it you know? Me with my fingers inside—

“Excuse me!” You hiss, “I don’t need you to repeat action by action thank you. I was there too. We both know what happened, we’d agreed we can coexist around this big ass city. I show up to support—

“Did you though?” Carmy pressed, “support me? Or am I waiting for something else to be thrown at me with your upcoming review?”

“What?!” You bite, “is that what your stank ass attitude is about?”

Carmy tightened his jaw just as the first serving was handed over. You let him sulk in that for some time as you study the plating of the four appetizers, making note of each before taking more pictures with your sony.

“I wasn’t there to write a review.” You reply.

“I saw you—

“Let me finish. I understand pressure so I get it but you have to learn to channel your anger and this grief, elsewhere and deal with it better without projecting it onto any and everybody. I’ll tell you that right now that won’t get you anywhere and especially with me, Carmen.” You affirm.

You’ve been in Carmy’s position before so you can speak with experience. He seemed to always be waiting for the worse to continue filling up his plate but it takes time to accept the good in life. He was giving you something but you weren’t sure it was the best option for the both of you and you weren’t afraid to say that.

“Alright…I didn’t come here to talk about feelings either you know? That’s what those meetings are for.” Carmy spills just a tad.

You stare at the vibrant but delicate plating but his tone and the soft upbeat tempo above your heads don’t go unnoticed. “What did you come here for then?”

Carmy blinks and snatches up a spoon, almost weighing it in his hands before he dives the utensil into the dish. He stares as the stretch of cheese, twisting the spoon to break it apart before holding the Macaroni and Brie with Crab out for you to take the first bite.

He doesn’t answer for awhile and so you do the honors of taking a bite and savoring it's texture and taste.

“…that’s not my favorite.” You announce and notice that Carmy waited for your view.

He raises his brows, “tell me about it?”

“They need different plating.” You deeply sigh, “I know that type of plating works best for a dessert and that’s not it. There’s more breadcrumbs than meat, which seems to not be fully removed from its shell so be careful with that. It’s also lacking flavor even with the brie, which is my least favorite kind of cheese in Mac, although many swear by it.”

Carmy flicks his attention to your disappointment to you scribbling into your notepad with a shake of your head. If he was making you a dish, he’d try his hardest to make sure it was everything you ever wanted.

He quickly has his share and thinks to himself.

Carmy can agree, this was lacking flavor and the breadcrumbs didn’t even have a crunch to them. You can’t just depend on the cheese to give you flavor in Mac and cheese.

“What’s your favorite dish? I—I don’t think I ever asked you that. We just went straight into talking about the beef.”

And doing dirty things in the front seat but who needs to relive that?!

You look up from your notes and lift your chin, “you’re looking at it. It’s childish I know...but that’s exactly what it reminds me of: my childhood. Mac and cheese! then as I got into my adulthood…crab kinda took over. Which is funny because I hated on it for so long growing up. My papa—my grandad, he helped my mom raise me, he's from Ocean City so you can only imagine the amount of seafood on our table.”

You’re smiling to yourself and Carmy can’t help but to feel his small laughter lines appear by his lips as you’re locked into some memory only you can remember vividly. This was the most Carmy was learning about you, sure it may not look like much but he didn’t feel the need to dissociate even if at times he really couldn’t help it.

You were the question mark that he wanted to figure out and get all the answers to. Maybe it was his gut and he shouldn’t have blabbed to sugar about you because now Carmy was thinking this was Michael’s doing.

If you believe in that shit.

So the both of you take your time trying the small dishes before getting the main courses. It seems the longer you sit across from each other—the tension was definitely still there especially with Sydney’s eyes burning into the two of you across the room and attempting to not get caught—although she had once or twice but gradually it lifted as you and carmy shared this time together.

He watched you work while you asked for his input before you told your own. He also provided a few things he would do to tweak it if he agreed with what you didn’t enjoy. Which was eye-opening for you, yes you went to school for journalism and sat in on some cooking classes once that also tied into your passion for learning. After completing your first degree you decided culinary may take you to different heights and enrolled into culinary school. You didn’t find the need to continue going through with being a chef after Copenhagen, finding writing to be your stronger suit but you still understood food and the relationship with it when it came to chef’s.

So you took carmy’s input into consideration.

With the last serving being a Asian dessert called, “Jjan Hae,” which consisted of: coconut rice pudding served with fresh citrus (orange, grapefruit, kumquat) and coffee ice cream, topped with crispy pop rice & a shot of Korean rice wine, it was a strange concept but the both of you came to terms with the dessert working well.

Carmy even took a video to show Marcus tomorrow at the bear and sent a photo to an old colleague, Luca, that you were also familiar with considering Noma was a thing that you didn’t bother speaking much on…but it was your turn to give carmy the last serving.

He hesitated since he had his own bowl, which he finished way before you did but it was clear you wanted him to have the last bite so he also took it while saying something with his eyes.

Breaking the stare, the both of you felt your phone buzz with a text. Carmy didn’t jump to answer it right away…he was the worst texter according to Nat and Sydney but you can answer for the both of you as it was a group text from Sydney who was long gone with her dad.

Siddy + (773) XXX-XXXX: Carmy, invite aspen to breakfast in the morning?? See you guys then! 👍🏾😉

“You guys do breakfast at the bear now?” You say lifting your eyes from your screen.

You heard Sydney made a mean omelette but you haven’t been back since earlier this year and you weren’t in the mood for that that night.

Carmy frowns and closes his eyes with a shake of his head, “uh yeah it’s a new thing that Syd came up with but we agreed to do that with everyone once a month…later this month. Why?”

“She wants me to have breakfast with you guys…knowing I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s not happening tomorrow anyway, so what is she talking about?” Carmy digs into his jacket, where he carelessly shoved his phone into after sending the photo off to Luca.

Another text rings out: at carmy’s place. just us three???

Not Sydney making plans and then placing it all at Carmy’s apartment.

He’s taking a breath, almost as a silent reminder for him to do so before his thumbs move over his screen: i don’t even eat breakfast, Syd.

Syd: well youre gonna.

~ Syd has notifications silenced 🌙 ~

“Well, looks like your work wife told your ass.” You laugh, which you translated into her message but didn’t comment further than that.

Carmy harshly exhales through his nostrils in disbelief, “my work wife huh?”

He didn’t hate how that sounded but he also never thought about marriage or relationships in awhile.

“Yeah…the proof is in the pudding, no matter what anyone says.”

Carmy pinched at his bottom lip as he attempts to dryly joke, “I thought it was rice? and what about outside work…”

“That’s something you have to figure out yourself.” You shrug, getting ready to pack up your notes and cameras.

You turn your attention to the table, which knows just when to lift as you tap on the screen to signal that you’re ready to pay while holding out your company card, “are you paying cash for the tip or card?”

“Uh, cash.” Carmy answers, “…what if I’m starting to think about what come’s next?”

“With Syd?” You question, your now sage and mint scented hands flying over the screen as you select the correct paying method before tapping your company card against the screen.

Carmy starts bouncing his leg underneath the table, “with everything.”

“Well…when you’re ready you’ll make moves to make it happen won’t you?”

Carmy dips his head, “you bet.”

And here comes the intense eye contact that you can’t help but to huff out some laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s just people with light eyes always do this thing where they’re just staring into your soul you know? Like damn, relax!”

Carmy’s confused as he holds his wallet open, “uh sorry for having eyes?”

“Shut up, glacier eyes.” You tell while Carmy just snorts at you.

The both of you don’t waste any time rushing back to his car as the clock is approaching 10pm. The wind’s definitely picked up and the temperature dropped, making it easier not to get caught up in the night time city lights which you often liked to do. Back in the van, carmy doesn’t wait to crank up the heat and you don’t bother to mess with the radio this time.

“So?” Carmy asks as he waits for the car to warm up some.

You keep your attention outside the window shield, “yes?”

“What’s the rating?”

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you that, Carmen?” You continue holding yourself.

He sniffs, “I mean—I was sitting across from you the entire night while you told me some of your thoughts.”

“So you thought you should also get the final score? I don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“Ah, I think you’ve got some idea.” Carmy lolls his head over to peek at you.

Laughter bubbles past your lips, “I do. I’ve absolutely had better because—what the fuck was that?”

Carmen feels a crooked smirk appear on his own face, “I don’t want to completely bash other chef’s work but fuck, I thought it was just me? You said it got a 4.3 out of 5? The ambience and service was spot on but…the flavor for most of the dishes?”

“I knew you knew something about seasoning,” you continued laughing while carmy rolled his eyes, “should spend less on the tech and interior and more on some fresh herbs.”

“Isn’t it called simmer saffron?”

That made you laugh even harder as you gripped your stomach, “You’ve got that so backwards!”

And carmy couldn’t help but to scan your features as you laughed and he felt his chest getting somewhat lighter? Just listening to the sound of you and being beside you. What kind of feeling was this? He’s felt it before looking at someone else but that feeling was more of a tug with that light while this one slowly poured in from the black.

“Don’t be too hard on ‘em though? There’s always room for improvement.”

“Sure, but we both know the bear is better and you guys don’t have a waist list months in advance.”

“We also don’t have any celebrities showing up either.”

“Yet.”

Carmy taps his fingers against the steering wheel, appreciating that, “right, yet…I’m sorry about March. I was too in my head about so much shit and you’re right, I took it out on everyone and I’m still trying to make up for it.”

“Effort doesn’t ever go unnoticed if people look and feel it hard enough.”

Carmy chews on his lips at that, “if you believe that…then why do you feel what I said about dating—uh us—about us dating is out of the blue?”

“I said that?”

“Your eyes did. It’s the most expressive thing about you which is funny to me when you talk so much shit about mine when you hide the rest of it away on your face. It’s fucking confusing but I think I gathered that from our dinner tonight.”

Carmy was just as detail oriented as you. It was in his language with food and maybe even in his tattoos that you tried to understand starting with his fingers first. The way he spoke about what he would do with the dishes that were lackluster, except for the dessert—that was pretty good. Carmy wasn’t much of a talker because he wasn’t sure how to express himself, always been that way since you knew of him at Noma…but he told just enough in his dishes and you told just enough between the lines you wrote.

Someone just had to look hard enough.

“…I ever tell you I was engaged? Of course I didn’t, we’re still…I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here Carmen but I’m starting to sense that we could be special if we both want this badly.”

“What do you want?”

“Does anyone ever really know?” You laughed, “ I guess someone to look past the circumstanial and I had that once but then he died. So that was the end of that.”

“You swore off love.”

“Love is many things but maybe I closed off the long lasting part.”

Carmy could relate to that as least with family. He never had much interest in romance even growing up because he lacked that confidence in anything being permanent besides the chaos he’s used to, then he found some of it once he proved what he fucking set out to do yet cooking was all Carmen really opened himself up to. While Luca and others encouraged him to have a night out in the town, he always left early or if there was one person that caught his interest, they get to talking and both get bored of each other since Carmy hardly made the move to take them back to his. Before Noma?

Maybe.

Back in Paris there was one that could have been permanent but Carmy had to break her heart since Noma was calling. Culinary was his true love and he honestly couldn’t tell you what she even looked like now if you asked him. Things that should have mattered tended to get buried in the blue of his mind unfortunately.

He didn’t have the time to be attached and you didn’t want to have your heart ripped out again.

“How’d—

“He was a firefighter.” Was all you said and just those words alone told carmy it was anything but peaceful.

It took a lot for carmy to scream at himself how Michael went out and he imagined it might have been the same for you. So he wouldn’t dare ask for further morbid details because what did that help?

So maybe you weren’t wrong about the both of you not being ready to take that step on going on dates but change was everlasting.

“Uh—what about breakfast then after that not so great meal?” Carmy asks as he pulls off from the curb now.

You think about it. Really think about it that carmy starts to assume you may have dozed off.

“Depends on the time honestly? And who am I to turn down a free meal?” You beamed at Carmy who lifts his shoulders with a chuckle.

Carmy explains, “Syd and I usually start our days early, sometimes even earlier for me if I don’t get enough hours in. but thanks to the reno those on the early shift can get prep ready and I heard…you’re not a morning person?”

You’re just as sarcastic but there’s no lies, “I don’t even know my name or birthdate when I first wake up…what do you think?”

Carmy snickered at that, “okay? So how does 10am sound?”

“That’s pushing it but…I think I can be there so that’ll give me the rest of the day to work from home.”

Carmy nods, “can’t wait to read it. Shake on it?”

“On what? My review or showing up?”

“Both.”

“I’m not sending you a sneak peek, maybe syd or even nat but not you.”

“Ouch.” Carmy mocks, still waiting for your hand to touch his.

And when you do there’s a spark, that makes you yank your hand back and you feel like you’re in one of those cheesy teen movies.

You’re aware carmy’s felt that too but he just clears his throat and placed his hand back on the steering wheel. Leaving you to lightly massage the palm of your hand, now glancing at the profile of carmy’s face.

Life takes time to live but once you start to just let it be, the green starts to stand out more and can be equally as joyous…once you get through the rain and mud that is.

And once the ice blue sets back on you, the both of you can’t exactly see the future but there’s always warmth waiting for the cold to give them a try.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

February fluff anthology series continues here.

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magneticecstasy · 2 months

Text

clandestine ✤ joel miller part ii — crushcrushcrush

series masterlist & foreword | ao3

moodboard is not an illustration of how reader should look, just for the ~vibes~

fic summary: it’s september 2016, you're in your final year of sixth form college and joel miller joins the teaching staff as your new history teacher. over the course of the academic year, boundaries are blurred, crossed and ruined when joel begins to reciprocate your insatiable crush on him; what should be so wrong just feels so right.

rating: E | pairing/AU: teacher!joel x student!fem!reader

chapter warnings/tags: (7.1k) this is an 18+ fic so mdni! dubcon (due to student/teacher relationship, both parties are consenting otherwise), age gap (reader is 18, Joel is in his early 30s), power imbalance, inappropriate relationships (teacher!Joel is really not a good teacher), fetishization of new-adulthood, some pervy!Joel, dacryphilia, solo m!masturbation (Joel jacks off in a school bathroom, dirty bastard), solo f!masturbation, wet dreams (mentioned), pet names (Joel calls reader darlin’, sweetheart etc.), minimal description of fem!reader where possible, reader has hair and is generally able-bodied, otherwise undescribed where possible, Tommy is mentioned and is 2 years younger than Joel

a/n: thank you to those who read and enjoyed part one!! i'm absolutely over the moon with all the comments, reblogs and likes!!! it warms my lil heart right up! chapter title comes from crushcrushcrush by paramore but also overlaps with crush by ethel cain which i've been listening to relentlessly when writing this fic. we get more joel this chapter, i hope i'm doing him justice lol - also i mention the epq a million times in this chapter - it's a qualification where you do an extended project that you have to do in sixth form and it's a fucking ballache so everyone hates doing it, trust me

account tags (tagging people who asked and people who seemed interested in chapter one, let me know if you'd like to be added): @sugadolly @yorkshirewench @jodiswiftle @pedgito @mel2fine @canteenee4 @dugiioh @undercoverpena @javiermillerrrr @littlemisspascal

banners and graphics from @saradika-graphics

Thursday 17th October

6:30am

As the weeks of the new term pass, the season changes. The balmy days of September merge into the typical chill of October. Long daylight hours surrender to darker nighttides, elongating the late autumn evenings. Its mornings are darker, sunrise commencing later and later as each day passes. The drop in temperature, though gradual, is noticeable, making the warm cocoon of your bed all the more inviting when your blaring alarm disrupts your blissful sleep. With great reluctance, you pull yourself from the inviting nest and pull the covers back in a haphazard attempt of making your bed. It feels a little pointless as you’ll only be getting back in it later tonight but you don’t want your mum to nag. Making your way to the bathroom, the laminate floor of the hallway beneath your bare feet makes you cringe with its cool touch. The tiles in the bathroom are colder but you decide to suck it up and jump in the shower as a warm place of refuge.

Your carefully crafted shower playlist echoes, a cacophony of sound that's a ritual to your morning routine: shower, get ready, breakfast, drive to college. Using the shower like your own personal recording studio, you sing along like nobody’s listening as you wash your body with sweet smelling soaps, the music helping to calm you before the busy day ahead. A knock at the bathroom door startles you cold. It nearly sends you slipping on the shower’s floor.

“Don’t be in there all day, Mum and I need to get ready too, you know,” your dad grumbles from behind the door. You mumble out a response, rolling your eyes, letting him know that you’ll be out soon. You wash the remnant bubbles of body wash left on your body before switching off the shower and drying off with a rough towel. Wrapping it around yourself, you exit the bathroom and return to your bedroom.

Like any other teenager’s room, it’s untidy. A pile of laundry in a basket threatens to overflow—you make a mental note to deal with it when you get home tonight. The main source of mess is concentrated on and around your desk, textbooks and folders stacked one upon another like a tower on one side with notebooks in a scattered pile on the other with your closed laptop in the middle. The past few weeks of term brought with it a tsunami of work and you’d manage to tread water in the sea of revision, coursework and homework but it was tiring trying to keep on top of college plus everything else and your room was evidence of that.

Conscious of the time, you get ready with haste, applying a light amount of makeup (to avoid sanctions for ‘wearing too much’) and pull on your uniform: a crisp button-up shirt tucked into a pleated plaid skirt, dark tights and shoes, tie, and a fitted blazer that bore the college’s emblem on the breast. You look at yourself in the full length mirror, inspecting yourself, readjusting your tie so it doesn't look completely ridiculous and rolling up your skirt a few times so it hits just above of your knee. The uniform isn’t much to your taste but it could be much worse. Satisfied, you pack your bag with the notebooks you need for the day and head downstairs for breakfast.

The clock in the kitchen shows that it’s past half 7 and it hurries your pace. You make some toast lathered in butter and eat it hurriedly before calling out goodbye to your parents and rush out the door. A silent prayer passes to your lips as you get in your car, hoping that it’ll start with no issues. Turning the ignition, the car sputters to life, thank god. Moving into gear, it creeks as you roll out of the driveway and drive to college.

9:17am

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you seethe under your breath.

Holding an essay that you’d completed a fortnight ago for Mr Hall, the other History teacher, you almost crumple it with how tight you grip the papers. It’s littered with red squiggles of Mr Hall’s sloppy handwriting, taunting you as if it were hyperfocusing on every little mistake you’ve ever made. Shuffling through the essay’s pages, scanning its contents, a laugh of disbelief erupts from the back of your throat. The final comment scrawled on the last page nearly sends you over the edge with indignation:

I don’t think you’ve grasped the concept of this topic very well. Try harder next time. Grade: 11/25.

Bullshit. In an attempt to prove yourself to the despised teacher, you made sure that your spelling and grammar was immaculate and even asked Mr Miller to proofread for you as a favour. In the short few weeks since his arrival, you’d built up a good rapport with the new teacher. It was inevitable with the way he was, his charming allure drawing you to him. It also helped that you found him earth-shatteringly attractive.

You watched him in anticipation as he read your work, feeling the tips of your ears grow hot. It’s probably shit, you think. Pure rubbish. After a while, he put you out of your misery.

“This looks good to me, darlin’,” he drawls, his praise sending an involuntary shiver through your body, “really good, actually. It’s well-written, concise, and has what appears to be thorough source analysis,” he compliments, his thick fingers gliding over the paragraphs, as he focuses on the text. “This is miles better than some of the stuff I use’ta grade when I was teaching at the university and those were meant t’be college level,” he scoffs, returning the papers back to you.

His fingers lingered a little too long as they graze against yours, sending sparks of electricity through your body.

“You mean it? You’re not just saying that to not hurt my feelings, right?” you ask nervously, unsure of yourself.

“‘Course. I don’t mess around, darlin’. Let me know what you get. ‘Be interested to know.”

Noticing your displeasure, Chelsea nudges you. “You alrigh’?” she inquires, her voice low to avoid anyone overhearing.

“That man is taking the absolute piss. Look at this shit.” You shove the paper across the desk for her to read. She reads through the essay without a sound, concentrating.

“What the hell, 11 out of 25? Lemme check mine, I haven’t seen it yet,” she says and reads through her own work, confusion dawning on her face. “I got 16 out of 25? But yours was way more detailed. Doesn’t make sense. Yours is at least a B, surely?”

“Well, according to dickhead over there, it’s an E.” Exasperated, you take the essay from her and shove it in your bag. You just can’t fucking win with this man; it feels like he’s determined to undermine and belittle you at every turn. Even on results’ day back in August, he barely acknowledged you, only offering a curt ‘well done’. Before you can rant further, Mr Hall beckons the class for their attention and begins his lesson. Throughout the rest of the period, you seethe like a pot over a flame, slowly simmering, threatening to overflow.

10:50am

As soon as the bell goes, you dart out of the classroom with little regard for Mr Hall and his hollers, berating you for leaving his class without waiting to be dismissed. If you stayed a second longer in that classroom, you were sure to explode. Unbothered by his threat of a detention, you storm down the corridor with reckless abandon. Wanting to be anywhere else right now, the thought of jumping in your car and skiving the rest of the day was tempting. Tears of frustration threaten to fall and the mist of anger clouds your mind so much that you’re startled when you slam hard into someone’s chest as you round the corner.

“Ow! Watch where you’re going, you fuckin—” you launch into berating the person but stop abruptly when you realise who you’d collided with, your face scorching with embarrasment.

Mr Miller stands before you, his broad frame towering over you. He let out a husky laugh, his eyes glinting with a teasing warmth.

“Easy, sweetheart, you rushing to the canteen or somethin’?” You stay silent, afraid the tears in your eyes would spill if you said anything. It takes a moment for him to grasp the distress etched on your face.

“Talk to me, darlin’, what’s wrong?” His voice is low, as concern blooms across his face. The corridor begins to fill with students, its temperature rising and absolutely not helping with your impending meltdown. A heaviness settles in your eyes, and thick tears soon spill down your cheeks without warning. How embarrassing.

Without a moment's hesitation, Joel has a strong arm around you as he whisks you away into his classroom that’s just up the corridor, doing his best to shield you from prying eyes. Ushering you in and closing the door behind him, he pulls a chair from under a desk close to his and beckons you to sit down. Slumping into the rigid chair, you let the frustrated tears flow.

“Ugh, he’s such a fucking asshole!” you groan in resentment, your voice breaking as you bury your face in your hands and sob uncontrollably, finally giving in to your emotions. Joel stays silent save for a soft I know, darlin’, it’s gonna be okay, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, thumb softly tracing circles to soothe you. As your tears gradually slow and you start to regain your composure, he positions his leather office chair in front of you and sits down comfortably in the plush seat.

“Tell me what’s happened that’s got you so upset. Was it those boys again?” he asks softly, though sounds disgruntled at the thought of those idiots bothering you again.

“No, no,” you utter whilst using the sleeve of your blazer to wipe away any stray tears. “You know that essay I showed you? Well, I got the grade back off Mr Hall. 11 out of 25. An E.” Your voice wavers, a stray tear falling down your warmed cheek.

His eyes widen with utter disbelief, but he doesn’t interrupt. The gaze of his delicious brown eyes is unwavering as he listens to you, providing you with a safe space to vent your resentment.

“I just don’t understand what his fucking problem is. He’s always talking down to me, shitting on whatever I hand in, giving me crappy feedback. Like if my work is so bad, at least help me with providing constructive criticism, it’s literally his job,” you express, waving your arms in exasperation, hands chopping through the air as if to slice through the grievance.

“Yeah, I don’t like him but I try to be as respectful as I can, y’know. I’m just so tired of the bullshit.” You let out a loud sigh, feeling the weight of the issue begin to dissolve from your tense shoulders.

Joel shuffles in his chair before he moistens his lips with a short flit of his tongue, thinking thoroughly before he approaches his next question: “How long has this been going on?”

“I dunno, since last year.”

“You got the essay with ya?”

“Yeah, lemme grab it.” You rifle through your heavy bag, searching. It takes a second but you find it.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he coos with a slight but comforting smile, taking the papers from you. He twists back to grab his glasses from the desk behind him elongating his body to reach them.

The front of his button-up shirt comes untucked in the process, revealing a glimpse of his soft, somewhat imperceptible trail of hair descending from his soft abdomen that beckons your curiosity and desire. It draws your eyes, each subtle curve and line a tender reminder of his natural magnetism. Paired with the groan that escapes his lips as he stretches behind, this sight feels obscene to observe.

Warm arousal pools low in your tummy, and you feel wet slick begin to permeate the soft folds of your cunt. Biting your plump lip, your thighs clench, seeking any solution to relieve the slow building pressure in your core. It does nothing but wind you up tighter like an iron spring, threatening to burst. You tear your ogling eyes away before he notices and you cross your legs in a last ditch attempt to find reprieve, your skirt hitching a little higher revealing more of your pantyhose-covered thighs; it’s not purposeful, but it isn’t accidental either. He slips the glasses on, sneaking a glance at you in that damn skirt before reading through the papers.

Joel's immediate reaction to reading the essay was parallel to yours: what the fuck? He had heard about Anthony Hall's reputation around the college; Hall was disliked by the majority of staff whilst the students absolutely despised him. Sure, Hall had always been polite enough to him in department meetings and casual encounters, but Joel had sensed something was off about him. Joel was never one to judge someone immediately based on rumour or appearance, he had just thought that Hall was just a bit of a weird guy, awkward and antisocial. However, holding your essay covered in some of the harshest feedback he'd ever seen as a lecturer and teacher, Joel reached his conclusion: Anthony Hall is a douchebag.

“Jesus Christ…” he breathes, flicking through the essay. Some of these comments didn’t even make sense to what you had been writing about, they were just nasty. Joel wondered if Hall had been drunk or high when marking your essay. Possibly both. The more he read, the more his heart ached for you. He’d come to know how hardworking you were in his few weeks at the college, always asking questions to deepen your understanding of certain topics in lessons, often staying behind to pick his brains about what he thought about a topic.

Whether it was to genuinely seek his opinion or simply to have an excuse to talk to him alone, he didn’t mind. He cherished your company in any capacity. He found your expression endearing as you focused on the tasks he set, your brow furrowing slightly with concentration, and the way you bit your lip when faced with a challenging question was something he found particularly alluring. Your soft laughter at his corny jokes, even when the rest of the class would roll their eyes, felt like an intimate connection between the two of you.

The way your hips moved when you approached his desk to ask a question set his heart racing and watching you leave, your skirt swaying, teased him to no end, stirring an inquisitiveness about what lay beneath. He couldn’t help but notice that you sometimes rolled up your skirt making it shorter, and silently hoped you did that just for him—and it drove him absolutely crazy. These subtle gestures, whether intentional or not, kept his thoughts occupied, leaving him to navigate a delicate balance between professional restraint and his own personal curiosity.

“So what do you think? Is he right or…?” you trail off, breaking the silence. Joel hadn’t realised that he hadn’t said anything for a while, the incredulity of the essay situation overcoming him.

“I’m just speechless, honestly. I ain’t ever seen anything like it. Barely know where to begin…” He falters, a kink in his self-assured armour he so often wore with pride. Your stomach drops and worry sets in for a moment. Sensing your insecurity, he endeavours to repair the armour.

He flashes a sweet smile, an eyebrow slightly raised for a moment, revealing soft crows feet that grace the outer corner of his espresso brown eyes. “But I can tell you that this is a fantastic essay. It ain’t fair the way he’s graded it. I can tell you that for free, darlin’,” he pauses a moment. “I’m gonna talk to him about this,” waving the essay nonchalantly, “if you’re happy for me to do so, ‘course,” his steady gaze meeting with yours.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna cause…” The rest of your words die in your mouth as Joel’s gazes intensifies as if to command you to lay your trust with him. Understanding, you nod, fidgeting with the bits of skin around your nails. As his look softens, his eyes glisten as the sunlight hits the flicks of toffee and golden honey tones of his orbs in the most delicious way.

“Alright, you talk to Mr Hall, just please leave out the bit where I had a menty b.” You let out a nervous laugh, shuffling around in your seat.

“The hell is a menty b?” He scoffs, ever confused by the way young people communicate these days. It was bad enough at home in Austin with teen colloquialisms, but British slang was a different beast altogether for Joel. It was like a new language that often forced him to wade through an unknown branch of the English lexicon when he conversed with his students and staff alike.

“Mental breakdown, duh,” You smirked, a teasing grin creeping across your lips, “you coulda guessed that one easy if used your head.” Rolling your eyes in a dramatic fashion, you wanted to tease him, wanted him to get wound up so much he had to pin you down and put you in your place. One day, maybe, for now that desire remains in your dreams.

“Hey—don’t let your mouth write a check your butt can’t cash.” He quips, playing along in this rally of dalliance.

You shoot him a playful but confused look. “What does that even mean?”

A quiet but teasing gruff chuckle escapes him. “Means don’t run your mouth ‘less you got the gall to back it up.” He quips, leaning back to chuck the essay on his desk.

The sliver of silky hair makes an appearance again and you have to take a deep breath to compose yourself as your clit swells with the want—no—the need for her to be touched. Sure you’ve had some less-than-stellar experiences that left you disappointed, aching for more, but this was a whole different kettle of fish. He’d barely laid a finger and had you a dripping, horny mess. If he only knew about the party in your panties when he taught you the concepts of American politics or the grounds for Regan’s war on drugs, you were sure he’d say you’re a bad girl and needed to be taught a lesson. And god, you wish he would.

“I’ve got the gall.” You challenge, arms crossed in juvenile defiance, playing it up.

“Ya think so?” Matching your energy, he readjusts himself in the plush leather office chair, leaning towards you. The tension in the air is palpable, thick like thunder, waiting for the lightning to strike.

Joel’s tone shifts, husky, pouring thick like honey. “Wanna put your money where your mouth is, darlin’?” He tests, kissing his teeth, that gaze pouring into you as he tilts his head slightly in curiosity, dark golden eyes flitting between yours and your lips.

Before you could respond, the bell cuts through the air like a jagged knife cutting you out of the moment like a butcher carving through a baron of meat. You let out a heavy sigh. EPQ is your next lesson and the thought of it makes you cringe.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters under his breath in a hope you won’t hear, his large palms falling to his lap with a soft slap, “best get to next lesson sweetheart. Don’t want you to be late, now, do we?”

Begrudgingly, you gather your things without much haste, not caring about being late. The day feels like a write-off to you at this point. Mr Miller walks you to the door, opening it for you—always the gentleman. Leaning casually against the door frame, his broad shoulders exude effortless rugged charm.

“Relax, alright? I'll handle it with Mr Hall. No need to worry your pretty little head, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise. Thank you, sir.”

And with that, you shuffle along to third period. You forget about the essay for a while, smiling to yourself, revelling at the fact that Mr Miller called you pretty. It makes the day that little bit easier to deal with.

11:32am

Closing the door behind you, Joel resigns himself to his desk, letting out a gruff sigh, thumb and finger massaging the bridge of his aquiline nose. He hated to see you so down and upset, but you looked so goddamn pretty with tears streaming down your face. Sordid illicit imaginings of you cloud his mind, his growing erection straining against his trousers, a pertinent reminder that he is probably—definitely—absolutely fucked.

Working in a college is hard work. Piles of marking. Countless meetings to attend. Difficult conversations to be had with students, parents and co-workers. The burden of it all could and would ruin some professionals without a way to relieve the stress. Some nights when Joel found himself needing release after a stressful day, you crept into his mind.

Deep down it was wrong to think of you like that, but it didn’t stop his mind from picturing how you’d feel around him, whether it’d be your soft mouth or sweet cunt. Before he had the chance to battle the moral ethics of it all, he’d be a panting mess, hand wrapped around his thick cock, fervently chasing a state of oblivion until he came hard with thick ropes of cum shooting across his soft belly, leaving him gasping for air.

The first time it happened, he was wracked with guilt for days afterwards, and couldn’t bear to meet your gaze the rest of that week, despite your best efforts to make conversation. He was getting it out of his system, that was all. He wouldn’t do it again. Or so he thought.

The next time he found himself chasing a sordid release was a day you wore your hair in two pigtails adorned with little pretty pink pom-poms.

Jesus Christ, she’s got to be doing this on purpose, right? She’s gotta know she’s being a goddamn tease.

He carried on the lesson as planned, trying to not let it affect him by thinking of dead puppies and suchlike but as soon the opportunity arose during lunch break, he escaped to the male staff toilet, locking himself in the lone cubicle.

It felt wrong, dirty, perverted and it probably was, to be truthful. But the thought of having you, something so forbidden, so illicit, clouded his judgement and made his dick harder. He pushed those criticisms to the back of his mind as he undid his belt and removed his thick, veiny cock from his pants in a swift motion. There was only a short window for him to get this over and done with.

Lazily pumping himself at first with the saliva he’d crudely spat in his hand, he relished in the pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut with sick thoughts of your smaller hand in place of his.

Fucking slut with them lil’ pigtails… she knows what she’s doing… gagging for this fucking cock.

Slow pumps quicken to fervent strokes, fabricated images of you on your knees for him taking him in your sweet mouth flashed in his mind.

Such a pretty girl taking my cock… good girl, that’s it… just like that.

A groan threatened to emerge from his throat and he bit his lip so hard he could taste copper which only spurred him on. Pearls of precum leaked from his slit, languid drops dripping down the head, mixing with his spit, a delicious slick coating his length. That familiar tug in his stomach and twitching dick signalled the beginning of the end, and he had to prop himself up with his other hand against the wall of the cubicle to steady himself as he tugged his cock with reckless abandon.

You want my cum in that pretty little mouth huh?… Fucking take it… F-fuuuuuck.

The peak of his release hit him like a tonne of bricks, blurring his vision. Ropes of cum spilled over the toilet seat and landed inside it with a few crude plops. He stroked his length through the aftershocks, panting and gasping for air, body writhing with oversensitivity. After coming down from the high, he took a moment to realise what he’d just done. Jerked off at the thought of you, a student, in the bathroom like some dirty pervert—fuck’s sake Joel. Shame surged through his veins like heroin, the guilt blooming through his body.

Before Joel could contemplate his actions further, he heard the door of the bathroom slam open. Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck. With great haste, he wiped away the evidence of his sordid release from the seat and flushed it away, wishing he could do the same with the guilt decimating his conscience right now. His hands were trembling as adrenaline merged with shame whilst he tucked himself away, zipping his trousers up and re-buckling his belt. Sweat had made his soft curls adhere to his forehead, his heart beating so hard that he believed it would burst out of his chest at any moment.

In an attempt to keep up appearances, he went to wash his hands and saw the last person he wished to see in a bathroom: Anthony ‘the smallest man that ever lived’ Hall. Joel offered a polite nod, not wishing to converse with the man and washed his hands under the scolding hot tap. It was the least he deserved after the stunt he just pulled.

“Are you okay, Joel? You look a bit out of sorts.” Hall asked with his nasally tone, whilst relieving himself in a urinal.

“‘M fine, thank you.” Joel’s tone was pointed, hinting that the conversion needed to be over, like yesterday.

Hall didn’t catch the hint, the stupid bastard. “It’s just you look a bit clammy… are you coming down with something?”

Oh, fuck off Anthony, not now.

“No, sir. If anything it’s just a cold.” He lies, anything to get the twat to stop talking to him whilst scrubbing his hands of sin.

“Well stay away from me then, I don’t want your yankee germs.” He guffaws at his own dumb joke. Joel forced a weak laugh out with every fibre of his being as he wrung his hands dry on some paper towel before discarding it in a bin.

Eager to escape the situation, Joel said a curt ‘see you later’ and slipped past before Hall could say anything further to him. He rushes back to his classroom, cheeks flushed, self-contempt coursing throughout his body. He coaches himself through the peril swirling through his mind: Pull yourself together, Joel, this has to stop, she’s just a girl. That’s the last time.

It’s about three days before he is choking his cock again at the thought of you, chasing that debauched oblivion again.

Monday 4th November

11:43am

It’d been a few weeks since Mr Miller promised to talk to Mr Hall about Essay-gate. That was the name you and Chelsea had given the affair; it seemed fitting as you’d learned about the Watergate scandal in the weeks since the incident. You didn’t want to pester him about the outcome of the conversation between the two teachers, fearing that you would be annoying him, but you thought you’d know by now at least.

It surprised you when you would come to find out the conclusion when Mr Miller knocks on the computer room door of your EPQ lesson, asking for you and instructing you to bring your things as you wouldn’t be coming back. You were more than happy to follow him. Quiet elation melts over you, grateful to be missing EPQ, not that you’d be doing a lot anyway apart from dicking around or browsing online. Arriving at his room, he placed your usual chair in front of his plush leather office chair. It feels a little silly but it warms your heart seeing the arrangement of chairs facing one another, a setup becoming all too familiar when you had your chats with the history teacher.

“We gotta stop meeting like this, darlin’,” he jokes teasingly, large hands running through his curls as he relaxes into his plush leather chair. A black button-up shirt hugs his body in all the right ways, emphasising his broad shoulders. The top button is undone, revealing a small birthmark that you long to kiss and nibble on. You laugh, giving him a look of incredulity—amused by his joke and distracted by how striking he looks in black. It almost makes you forget there’s a reason as to why you’re here in the first place.

“So, there’s some good news, and some bad news.” He begins, his large hands laced in one another. “Good news is Mr. Hall decided to re-evaluate your essay thanks to my… suggestion.”

Joel’s use of the word suggestion was a little white lie. He had actually torn Anthony a new one, launching into a scathing critique of the man’s grading, thoroughly deconstructing the other teacher’s justification for the low mark. In the end, it boiled down to Anthony’s preference in writing style, rather than the substance of the essay. His feebled reasoning angered Joel further, almost flying off the handle during the confrontation.

Joel had come well-prepared: leveraging on his past experience as a college and university lecturer and the mark scheme Hall should’ve been using to grade, Joel had compellingly demonstrated that your essay not only met but surpassed the required standards.

“And the bad news…?” you pry, bracing yourself for the worst.

“The old grade was submitted in the latest data-drop. Admin’s flagged you up for needing extra support in History until the next drop in about 6 weeks.” Joel looks at you carefully, gauging your reaction.

“The fuck?” Fucking Mr Hall causing shit again, goddamn. “Can’t he change it, it’ll literally take a second?”

“I tried, darlin’, but Admin’s locked the drops until the next window and I can’t get access to edit ‘em.”

“Fuck’s sake.” You sigh, swearing under your breath. “So lay it on me, what does this all mean?”

“‘Means that you gotta attend some sessions—like tutoring.”

“Ugh, so I’m stuck with Hall?” The thought of spending any more time than necessary with the man makes your skin crawl.

A quiet grin of delight creeps across Joel’s lips. “We decided that it’d be best for you to work with me, actually.”

Another white lie. When he found out you were getting extra tutoring, he wasted no time going to Admin to make sure you worked with him instead of Hall. Officially, this was justified by the ongoing animosity between the two of you. Unofficially, though, Joel’s real motivation was far more intimate, borderline voracious—he wanted you all to himself and was willing to pull every little string to make it happen. He knew full well you didn’t need the extra help; in fact, he knew you were more than capable. What he really wanted was the chance to be alone with you. He knew he was probably sick for wishing to spend so much time with his barely legal student, but his curiosity of the situation got the better of him. He wanted to see where this, whatever it was, was going and he was strapped in for the ride.

“So ya stuck with me for an extra few hours a week—ain’t you a lucky thing.”

He winks, and your breath catches in your throat. You try to clear it, hoping to disguise your reaction, but Joel is not fooled. He quietly savours the way your reactions betray you each time. He finds it endearing that you think you're discreet, clutching your crush on him like a poker hand, when Joel can see through your cards with ease.

“So how’s this going to work?” You ask after composing yourself, keen to find out the details of the arrangement.

“Hang on, lemme check the email Admin sent me.” He swivels around to his desk and logs into the computer. You notice the way he types, only using his pointer fingers to tap on each key. Such a boomer, you think, quietly laughing to yourself. Joel doesn’t notice, concentrating on hitting the correct key instead. Once logged in, he pulls up the email and reads the screen intently, scanning each line carefully.

“Alrigh’...” he draws out slowly, before turning to you, “according to this, you’ll be able to miss one EPQ lesson and the last 2 hours need to be taken out of your own study periods.” He draws his attention back to the computer, changing the window and revealing a document with a copy of his teaching timetable.

“I’ve got a free period this hour when you’re in EPQ so that could work. And I’m happy to have you in these periods here, here, here or here,” he explains, pointing at the empty cells in the timetable. You get your own timetable up on your phone to compare schedules.

After a lengthy discussion, you both decide that you’ll see him for an hour on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday where your study periods matched with his free ones. Mr Miller emphasises that you could bring any work with you to the sessions, not just History, as he was willing to help where he could. It was so kind of him to offer and it seemed that he genuinely wanted to help you succeed. He even gave you his phone number to contact him with any questions you had. You weren’t sure if he was allowed to do this but you didn’t care. Mr Miller had given you his phone number. You saved it under JM with a little sparkle emoji, concealing his identity in case of prying eyes.

The first text you sent at home that night was simple, yet your hands trembled as you typed and deleted it over and over, not wanting to sound like an idiot.

Thanks for agreeing to help me, I appreciate it :) just texting so you have my number too

After sending the message you buried the phone under your pillow, too anxious to watch and linger, waiting for his response. You’re surprised when his reply comes back within a few minutes.

my pleasure, darlin. can’t wait for our first proper session on wednesday. X

The message, punctuated by a kiss at the end, sends your heart into a flutter. You remind yourself he probably sends texts like that to everyone, not just you. Then, a second message arrives with a buzz, startling you and causing you to nearly drop your phone.

don’t forget the watergate worksheet tomorrow—ya gonna regret letting me have ur number when I’m nagging ya for homework haha. X

You begin to type with haste. Your fingers hover over the x key, debating on whether to return the gesture. Fuck it. No harm done, it’s just a letter after all.

Hahaha I won’t. See you tomorrow x

Within a minute, his response arrives.

see ya then. sweet dreams, darlin. X

You decide to leave it there and head to bed. As you slip into sleep, Mr Miller haunts your dreams: his rugged face, strong hands, broad shoulders, and deep caramel eyes are a tantalising vision. That night is the first of many dreams you have about him, leaving your soft folds drenched with longing when you wake.

Wednesday 20th November

12:31pm

The arrangement of additional tutoring worked out well. You got to miss an hour of EPQ and you were able to spend even more time with your favourite teacher. During the sessions, you were able to get your college work done whilst getting to know more about Mr Miller.

In your exchanges, you find out he grew up in Austin, Texas, with his younger brother Tommy. Tommy, a soldier turned contractor, founded Miller’s Construction after an honourable discharge from the US Army at 23. Mr Miller would help Tommy out during grad school summer breaks and whenever money was tight. Despite the long, gruelling days under the hot Texan sun, he enjoyed the hands-on work, something different from the realm of academia he found himself in. He’d graduated with a respectable bachelor's degree at 22 and then pursued a master's in American History and Politics. Working as a teacher’s aide during his master's program had ignited his interest in teaching, leading him to take up lecturing positions at community colleges and universities around Texas after grad school. Eventually, seeking new opportunities, he moved to the UK, where he worked at several universities. However, the insecurity of temporary contracts pushed him to switch to the further education sector, seeking the stability of a full-time salary. And that’s how he found himself teaching at your college.

You’re mesmerised by how he recounts his life—his eyes gleam with fondness when he speaks of Tommy, his voice comes alive as he recalls the wild nights in Austin with his younger brother when he was home from service, and he speaks openly about his initial fears of leaving home. Getting to know Mr. Miller on such an intimate level feels like a breath of fresh air; teachers often seem like distant robots, detached from their true selves. You never quite understood why.

Today’s session is like any other. After a long double period of English, you find your way to his classroom. He looks up as you enter, greeting you with a warm, inviting smile that makes the day’s stress melt away.

“Hey, ya ready for our session?” he smiles, that kind expression always so infectious that you felt your own lips curling.

“Gimme a sec, I just had back-to-back English and my brain feels like jelly. Who knew Shakespeare’s sonnets could be so confusing.” You sigh in exasperation, dropping your heavy bag on the desk closest to Mr. Miller’s with a thump. Rifling through it, you find your notebook and pencil case, then shuffle through the notebook for your university entrance essay drafts. With the UCAS deadline steadily approaching, you’re anxious to finish. You’re on what feels like the zillionth draft, and it’s driving you crazy. Mr. Miller noticed your frustration during your last tutoring session and encouraged you to bring it along this time so he could help. How kind of him.

You hand the drafts to Mr. Miller, who spends a few minutes reading through them, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. You watch him anxiously, your heart racing, as he writes comments in the margins. After what feels like an eternity, he hands the pages back to you. Your heart flutters at the sight of his positive feedback, the final comment punctuated with a smiley face: ‘This is great, darlin’, keep it up :)’

Warm stirs in your chest as you read over the comments, a coy smile tugging on your lips and you find yourself giddy with elation.

“Happy?” he muses, quietly pleased with your reaction. He felt good about making you happy, you deserve it after all considering the essay fiasco with Mr Hall.

“Yeah,” you respond, drawing your eyes away from the pages to meet his eyes, “I just had one question.”

His brow furrows, a little confused. “Sure, darlin’, shoot.”

“Why is it that you always call me dawrl-lin’?” you imitated his Texan drawl, narrowing your eyes. The nickname had intrigued you and you never heard him call anyone else so why not ask?

“Now, that was a terrible impression, ya need to stay in your lane.” He chortles at your inquisitiveness.

He pauses before revealing his answer.

“I only call pretty girls darlin’,” a smirk flashes on his lips, before realising what he’s implied and its implications. You feel your breath catch in the back of your throat and you suddenly feel hot.

Shit, he thinks, chastising himself. Y’done gone and crossed the line, you fuckin’ tool.

“It’s a-a Texas thing,” he attempts to justify himself, lying through his teeth. Joel's eyes widened like a deer in headlights. His mind was racing with the consequences of his behaviour. Reported. Investigated. Suspended without pay. Fired. Blacklisted from teaching. All because he couldn’t stop himself from running his mouth trying to flirt with you, and forgetting himself.

“‘m sorry if I was making you uncomfortable. I can stop if you wanna.”

In truth he didn’t wish to stop. He wished to whisper it over and over whilst he ravished your body, nibbling, biting, kissing you all over.

“It's okay, Mr Miller. I kinda like it,” you smile, glancing back at your work. You didn’t just like it though, you loved it. Texas thing or not, you were quietly delighted he’d given you a pet name that was reserved for you. He sounded so seductive whenever he called you darlin’ during class, in the corridors in between lessons, or during your one-on-ones, he had to know what he was doing, surely.

Every time darlin’ passes his lips, without fail, knots form in your tummy, affecting your ability to concentrate on occasion. Sometimes, when you were on your own late at night, save for the company of a bullet vibrator attached to your clit, the wicked imaginings of Mr Miller could and would often throw you over the precipice of bliss. You imagine him whispering darlin’ and sweet nothings in your ear whilst his calloused fingers skillfully worked with your clit before devouring your pussy as if he were starved. The thoughts of him leave you a shaking mess, forcing yourself to stifle any moans and gasps with the palm of your hand as the waves of illicit bliss ripple through you, making your cunt flutter with pleasure as you tease your sensitive bud through the aftershocks. You always felt a little shameful after the fact, unable to hold his gaze the morning after, the thoughts of Mr Miller ravishing your body still raw in your mind from the night before.

“That’s alrigh’ then. We’ll keep it that way,” he replies, quietly relieved.

She’s not gonna snitch on me, he thinks.

What a good girl.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, I love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!💞

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