natasha-in-space · 1 year ago
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:・゚✧:・. Mint Eye Idol festival doodles! :・゚✧:・.
Looks like our Savior came up with a new event to gather more believers... Her eccentric mind never ceases to amaze. It's a good thing she has many trusted followers to help make her plan a dazzling reality. Let's take a look, shall we?
Or, in other words: me doodling cmc's just because it's fun :D
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Natasha certainly never expected that becoming an idol would be part of her duty as Ray's assistant... Her life in Mint Eye gets more and more bizarre every day. But hey, she has an impressive talent for singing, and once she gets some much needed training, she has no problem charming potential believers with her radiant smile and beautiful voice. Although her stage presence still needs some work. Still, it helps to know that Ray is just as clueless as she is. It's somewhat fun to learn something new by his side!
And yes, I put her into Hatsune Miku's outfit. She loves Miku! Just embarrassed to admit it. It's a good thing their production and costume designer is a huge sweetheart.
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Next up, we have the most skilled performer in the group! Hinata is the one responsible for training Ray and Natasha on their stage presence, as well as their dance routine. Apparently it's way harder than it looks, go figure! As someone who knows a thing or two about being an idol, she's the one in charge, which their Savior is more than pleased with. She knows that their idol festival is in good hands with Hinata taking the lead. Their recruitment mission is one of utmost importance, after all... Who would resist a sparkling idol taking your breath away on stage?
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Meanwhile, Chaewon is in charge of security for the event. Since Ray will be performing on stage with Hinata and Natasha, his duties are temporarily handed over in her hands. While their Savior did suggest for her personal bodyguard to join the others on stage, it seems that she has no sense of rhythm whatsoever... much to her own embarrassment. She makes sure that everything goes smoothly and takes care of any... sleezy individuals lurking in the crowd.
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And Lila did a wonderful job producing and planning the whole event. She's also the costume designer! It's thanks to her that everyone looks so dazzling on stage... Although, nobody expected for her to come up with such an unorthodox look for Mr. Ray. But, it works! Natasha seemed very charmed by his leather jacket in particular. And, to support Ray on his first ever performance on stage, she even created matching outfits for them! Ray may be nervous, but the entire room fades away once his eyes meet his precious tester in front of the crowd, cheering him on and looking up at him with stars in her eyes.
Hinata belongs to @rfaromance and Lila belongs to @marshmallowprotection
Natasha and Hinata were based off of my favorite Miku figurines: Hatsune Miku feat my little pony Bishoujo statue; Hatsune Miku: Symphony 2019 Ver.
Chaewon and Lila references by @CommiGtl on Twitter
#uhhh how do i tag this 💀#heck idk if i will do similar stuff in the future but fine let's make a new tag just in case#mia sketches#oc natasha stakh#oc chaewon lee#my laptop died and got resurrected again while i was making this#anyway i love cmc's they're all friends#(even if chaewon sometimes grumbles ok she's just shy)#and now to info dump in the tags#HINATA GAVE ME SO MUCH TROUBLE WITH HER HANDS AND FACE IT'S UNREAL#i think i took the longest to finish her look#but i'm happy with the result#struggled to figure out how to draw lila's hair but it was easier than i expected#i love how excited she turned out <3 kait u asked for her cheering her favorite hacker and i delivered#imagining hinata training ray and natasha is hilarious to me#they are both very awkward and stiff so she has her work cut out for her#ray always hunches while natasha is trying to hide behind those two#stage presence is important!#but hey lila is there with two bottles of water once they're done#she makes sure nobody overworks#i also imagine natasha sheepishly taking interest in designing the costumed since she loves fashion but is too shy to express it directly#lila sort of gets her involved because she sees that she wants to participate#lila also helped ray and natasha feel confident in their new looks!#and chaewon is... poor gal can't dance for the life of her i'm sorry#she is an amazing fighter with impressive reflexes but singing? dancing?#there's a reason she never dances during the mint eye balls#she says it's for safety but in actuality#it's to keep her pride intact#she'll just bonk gross fans on the head with a baseball bat <3#not putting this in mystic messenger tag bc it's just cmc's and i'm embarrassed ><
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watchyourbuck · 1 year ago
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just came home from a Måneskin concert and BOY they are good
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kaddos · 1 year ago
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ohhh i get it actually. if loneliness gets into you as a kid itll make a home inside you. and that gives you a really special power to carry it with you and find it everywhere. even in places where it isnt. and these hounds are very very hard to kill and they can even come back from the dead exactly the same
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jozistyle · 6 months ago
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Business or Pleasure: Traveling for Work
The Pleasure of Traveling for Work: I must confess that I love travelling, and when I can combine it with work, it’s even more enjoyable. I’ve had the opportunity to travel to various destinations, including Durban and Cape Town, to conduct training workshops. These experiences have not only allowed me to share my knowledge but also to connect with people from different backgrounds and…
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ujunxverse · 10 months ago
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ZHANGHAO THE MAN THAT YOU ARE "I'LL GIVE YOU EVERY FIRST" ASKDJFAK;LDSJFL;K
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mrsfancyferrari · 18 days ago
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I'm All Yours
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Summary: You and Lando have been in the talking stage for some months now. After Lando's third win, he knows he's missing something important. You being his girlfriend.
Song: Thinking Bout You by Frank Ocean
Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! <3
Word count: 5.8k
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You and Lando had been navigating the delicate waters of the talking stage for several months, sharing countless late-night conversations and laughter that echoed through the quiet of your respective rooms.
Each message exchanged felt like a step closer, yet there was an unspoken tension lingering in the air, a sense that something significant was just out of reach.
Lando's impressive third win filled him with an exhilarating sense of triumph. As he stood on the podium, basking in the cheers and flashing cameras, he could almost taste the sweet taste of success.
However, amidst the euphoria, a realization washed over him, an emptiness that he couldn't ignore.
It was you, being his girlfriend, who was missing from the celebration, and the thought gnawed at him.
The absence of your presence cast a shadow over the victory that was otherwise so overwhelming. Lando couldn't help but feel incomplete, knowing that you were the one he wanted to share this milestone with.
The exhilaration of the win was dulled by the ache of knowing that you were missing out on the shared joy and celebration.
Without you by his side, Lando's victory felt hollow and incomplete. He had poured his heart and soul into achieving this milestone, knowing that your support meant the world to him.
But without you there to witness it, to witness his hard work and perseverance paying off, the victory felt less meaningful.
Lando couldn't help but replay in his mind the late-night conversations and laughter he and you had shared, each memory reminiscent of a time when he felt complete and whole.
Those moments fueled his determination and pushed him to work harder, but now, as he basked in the spotlight, he couldn't help but long for the presence of the person who had meant so much to him.
Lando knew that he couldn't control whether or not you were able to attend his victories, but he couldn't help but wish for the opportunity to share this momentous occasion with you.
He longed for the day when he could celebrate with you by his side, when the cheering crowd and the flashing cameras would serve as a backdrop to a beautiful and loving partnership.
As Lando stood there on the podium, amidst the deafening cheers and applause, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for him and for you.
He knew that he couldn't suppress his feelings any longer, and he vowed to find a way to bridge the gap between the two of you.
The tension between the talking stage and something more had always been palpable, but now, Lando realized that he couldn't move forward without addressing it head-on.
He knew that he couldn't continue to navigate these delicate waters without risking the potentiality of losing you altogether.
With a heavy heart, Lando decided to take the first step, to reach out and let you know how much you meant to him, even in the face of uncertainty. . . .
Later that evening, Lando found himself pacing in his hotel room, the trophy gleaming on the table, but his heart was heavy. He picked up his phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing your number.
When you answered, your voice was a soothing balm to his racing thoughts. "Hey, Lando! Congratulations on the win! I saw the highlights; you were incredible!" you exclaimed, your excitement evident.
He smiled, but it quickly faded as he replied, "Thanks, but it doesn’t feel complete without you here. I thought about you the whole time. I really wish you could have been there to celebrate with me."
You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart flutter. "I wish I could have been there too. I was cheering for you from home, you know that!" you said, trying to lighten the mood.
Lando sighed, "I know, but it’s just not the same. I want you by my side, sharing these moments. You mean so much to me, and I think it’s time we stop just talking and start being something more."
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you felt a rush of emotions.
"Lando, take a deep breath and sit down," you instructed, and Lando listened without hesitation. He settled onto the edge of the bed, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.
"I need you to know that I care about you deeply too. But let's take it one step at a time, okay? We need to be honest with ourselves and each other about what we want and how we feel."
Lando nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "You're right. I just didn't want to waste any more time pretending that what we have wasn't special. I want to build something real with you."
You smiled, your heart swelling with hope. "We'll figure this out together, Lando. No rushing, no pressure—just us, exploring what we could be."
For the first time in a long while, Lando felt a sense of calm, knowing that he wasn't alone in his feelings.
"I love how you know how to calm me down," Lando muttered, looking at your face on the screen.
His eyes softened as he took in your reassuring smile, feeling a warmth spread through him. "It's like you always know exactly what to say to make everything better."
Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "That's because I care about you, Lando. And I want us to be happy, whatever that looks like for us." The two of you continued to talk about the race that he just won and he taught you some of the rules of the sport.
As the night wore on, the distance between you seemed to shrink, and Lando felt more certain than ever that together, you could face anything. . . .
It was the inaugural week of the much-anticipated long break, and you had made the decision to visit Lando, a choice that filled both of you with excitement. It had been weeks since you last saw each other in person, and the anticipation of reuniting was palpable.
As you made your way to the airport, Lando was a bundle of nerves, standing in front of the mirror in his room, adjusting his collar repeatedly as if it would somehow ease his anxiety.
Charles, his ever-watchful friend, leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed Lando's frantic preparations.
"You know, mate, you’re acting like you’re about to meet the Queen or something," Charles chuckled, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.
Lando shot a quick glance at Charles, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I know, but I just want everything to be perfect. I mean, she’s coming all this way, and I want to make a good impression," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and dread.
The thought of you arriving filled him with both joy and a hint of panic. He was supposed to pick you up from the airport, and the only thing he was waiting for was the message that would signal your arrival.
"It’s not like it’s the first time you’re meeting her," Charles teased, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall, clearly enjoying Lando’s discomfort.
"Yeah, but still," Lando muttered, turning to face Charles, his hands fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. "I want her to see me at my best."
Charles couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. "Honestly, mate, if she’s still talking to you after all this time, I think you’ve already made a pretty good impression."
Lando, unable to suppress a grin, playfully punched Charles on the shoulder. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m still going to be a nervous wreck until I see her."
The banter continued, but deep down, both friends knew that this reunion was going to be something special, a moment they had both been waiting for.
"Do you think there's something special brewing between you two in the future?" Charles inquired, his curiosity evident in his tone. He leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he watched Lando's expression shift.
Lando's eyes sparkled with a mix of hope and uncertainty, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. "Honestly, I really hope so. She's not like anyone else I've ever dated," he replied, a soft smile spreading across his face.
"She has this quiet strength about her, always listening to my problems, but she can also be so lively and chatty. And when she smiles, those dimples of hers just light up the room. I find myself wanting to see her smile all the time. It’s like she has this incredible ability to make everything feel right. And don’t even get me started on how smart she is; I often wonder why she even bothers with a guy like me."
Just as Lando was about to delve deeper into his feelings, a notification chimed from his phone, interrupting his train of thought.
He quickly reached for it, his heart racing with anticipation. The message was from you, simply stating, "I'm landing now, see you soon! <3"
A wave of excitement washed over him, and he couldn't help but grin.
"See, mate? The moment you start talking about her, all your worries just fade away," Charles said, his grin widening as he nudged Lando playfully. "You’ve got to go get her. This could be the start of something amazing."
"You're right, I should," Lando replied, his voice filled with newfound determination. He quickly grabbed his suit, the fabric crumpling slightly in his hands as he rushed to the door. "Thanks for the push, Charles. I really appreciate it."
With a final glance back at his friend, Lando felt a surge of confidence. He was ready to embrace whatever the future held with her, knowing that this moment could be the beginning of something truly special.
As he dashed out, the anticipation of seeing her again filled him with a warmth that made him forget all his insecurities.
Lando slid into the driver’s seat of his car, the engine purring to life as he navigated through the bustling streets toward the airport. The anticipation bubbled within him, a mix of excitement and nerves as he thought about seeing you again.
Once he arrived, he parked and made his way inside, where he found a cozy spot to wait. Time seemed to stretch as he glanced at the arrivals board, his heart racing at the thought of your imminent arrival. Soon enough, he spotted the familiar figures emerging from the terminal, and his breath caught in his throat when his eyes finally locked onto yours.
You looked stunning, a vision in a sleek black dress that hugged your figure perfectly, complemented by a small coat that added an air of elegance against the chilly backdrop.
As you approached, Lando couldn’t help but notice the way you seemed slightly nervous under his gaze, your suitcase rolling behind you as you made your way closer. The moment felt electric, and he found himself momentarily lost in the depths of your eyes.
“Lando? Earth to Lando?” you teased, breaking the spell that had momentarily held him captive.
He blinked, shaking off the daze, and blurted out, “You look beautiful.” The words slipped out before he could think, genuine admiration shining through.
A soft blush crept across your cheeks as you replied, “Oh, thank you, Lando. You look handsome too.”
Your smile was infectious, and he couldn’t help but mirror it, feeling warmth spread across his face as he realized just how much you affected him.
After a few moments of shared smiles and lingering glances, Lando finally broke the silence. “Let me take your bag,” he offered, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest.
He reached for your suitcase, gently taking it from your hand and replacing it with his own, their fingers intertwining in a sweet gesture that felt both natural and exhilarating.
“I’ve missed you,” he admitted, his eyes searching yours for a hint of how you felt. “I missed you too,” you replied, your voice soft yet filled with sincerity.
"Congratulations on your win," you said as the two of you left the airport, your voice carrying a mix of pride and excitement.
Lando's eyes sparkled at your words, the acknowledgment of his recent achievement making his chest swell with joy. "Thank you," he responded, his tone humble yet filled with gratitude. "Though I wish you were there to celebrate with me."
As you walked side by side, the bustling noise of the airport fading into the background, Lando couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment.
"Well, I'm here now," you said with a playful smile, "Do you have anything planned?" Lando's eyes lit up with excitement as he opened the door for you, his hand gently guiding you into the waiting car.
"Yeah, but we have to make a quick stop first," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery.
As the car sped away from the airport, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. You glanced over at Lando, who was now staring out the window, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Where are we going?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you. He turned to you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"You'll see," was all he said, leaving you to wonder what surprises lay ahead.
The car soon pulled up to a familiar street, and your curiosity only grew as you recognized Lando's neighborhood. As the vehicle came to a halt in front of his house, you looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"Why are we here?" you asked, but he just smiled and opened the car door, holding out his hand to help you out.
"Trust me," he said simply, his eyes twinkling with a secret only he knew.
Your confusion slowly turned to excitement as he led you up the steps and into his home. The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by the warm, inviting ambiance of the living room.
On the coffee table sat a beautifully wrapped gift and a bouquet of your favorite flowers as well as all of your favourite books.
"I wanted to give you something special before our adventure," Lando said, his voice soft and filled with genuine affection.
"Aww, Lando, you shouldn't have," you muttered, your voice mingling with shock and gratitude as you took in the thoughtful array of gifts.
You knew how much time, effort, and money must have gone into arranging all of this, and it made your heart swell with appreciation.
Overwhelmed by the gesture, you stepped closer and placed a gentle kiss on Lando's cheek, watching as his face turned a delightful shade of red.
"Well, I wanted to make sure you knew how much you mean to me," he said, his eyes meeting yours with an earnest sincerity that made your heart flutter.
"You mean the world to me, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe you went through all this trouble just to make me happy."
You wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and savoring the moment.
Lando hugged you back just as tightly, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, "I'd do anything to see you smile like this."
As you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, you could see the depth of his feelings reflected there. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect, intimate moment.
After the embrace, the air between you and Lando crackled with an unspoken tension. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and as you turned to look at him, you caught him stealing glances at your lips, a flicker of desire dancing in his eyes.
It was a moment that felt suspended in time, yet he seemed to fight against the urge to close the distance.
"We should head to the next place," he finally murmured, breaking the spell as he moved toward the door, his voice low and slightly hesitant.
You followed him, a soft smile playing on your lips, but inside, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled. Lando was always so considerate, so respectful, and while you appreciated that about him, there were times when you wished he would take a leap of faith.
The two of you had danced around this moment for far too long, and the anticipation was almost unbearable.
"You know," you said, catching up to him as he paused at the door, "sometimes I think you’re too careful. What’s stopping you from just going for it?"
Your heart raced as you spoke, hoping to provoke a reaction.
He turned to face you, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. "I guess I just don’t want to ruin what we have," he admitted, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that always made your heart flutter. "But I can’t help but wonder if we’re missing out on something amazing."
You could see the conflict in his eyes, and it made you want to reach out and pull him closer.
"Whatever your option is, I'll always stand with you," you assured him, your voice soft but firm. The sincerity in your words seemed to ease some of the tension in his shoulders.
"Come on, don't you have a secret place to show me?" you added, a playful glint in your eye as you tried to lighten the mood.
Lando's face broke into a relieved smile, the weight of the moment lifting. "Yeah, I do," he said, his tone more relaxed as he opened the door for you.
As you both stepped out into the cool evening air, the unspoken promise of exploring that hidden place together filled you with a renewed sense of excitement. The night was still young, and with Lando by your side, you couldn't wait to see what adventures awaited.
Lando drove through winding roads until they reached a secluded, picturesque area. The headlights illuminated a candle-lit table set with an array of delicious food, and in the background, a luxurious yacht waited by the water's edge.
The sight took your breath away, and you turned to Lando with wide eyes, unable to hide your amazement. "How did you even manage this?" you asked, your voice filled with awe.
He merely grinned, a hint of mischief playing on his lips. "I have my ways," he replied, stepping out of the car and moving to your side to open your door.
As you walked together towards the beautifully set table, the ambiance of the evening wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The flickering candlelight cast a soft glow, making the moment feel even more intimate.
He gently pulled out your chair, guiding you to sit down with a grace that made your heart swell even more. As he took his seat across from you, the candlelight reflected in his eyes, creating a mesmerizing sparkle that you couldn’t look away from.
The aroma of the food wafted up, mingling with the crisp evening air, creating an atmosphere that was nothing short of magical.
Lando poured you a glass of wine, his movements deliberate and smooth, as if he had planned every detail to perfection. "To us," he toasted, raising his glass with a smile that spoke volumes.
You clinked glasses, feeling the warmth of the wine and the moment seep into your soul. The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, shared dreams, and the kind of deep connection that made you forget about everything else.
As you both reached for the first bite, the flavors exploded in your mouth, a symphony of tastes that perfectly complemented the enchanting setting. The dishes ranged from succulent grilled vegetables to tender cuts of meat, each prepared with exquisite care.
Lando watched your reaction with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased that his efforts were being appreciated. You savored every morsel, the delicious food enhancing the magic of the evening even further.
Between bites, you exchanged stories and memories, each one bringing you closer together.
The food was more than just a meal; it was an experience that tied the night together in a perfect bow. The rich, creamy desserts were the final touch, a sweet ending to an unforgettable dinner.
As you finished the last bite, you couldn’t help but feel that this evening was the start of something truly special.
"So, is the yacht just for show?" you asked curiously, glancing over at the sleek vessel docked nearby. Lando's grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes.
"Ahh, I was waiting for you to ask about it," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "Do you want to get on it?"
Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and extended his hand to you. With your hand in his, you walked towards the yacht, the anticipation building with each step.
The yacht was an epitome of elegance and luxury, gleaming under the moonlight. As you stepped onto the polished teak deck, you couldn't help but admire the sleek lines and sophisticated design.
The gentle hum of the engine and the subtle sway of the boat added a sense of adventure to the atmosphere. Soft ambient lighting illuminated the pathways, guiding you both towards the interior with an inviting glow.
Inside, the yacht was a marvel of modern craftsmanship. Plush seating areas were adorned with rich fabrics and tasteful decor, creating a cozy yet opulent ambiance. The main salon featured expansive windows that offered breathtaking views of the starlit sea.
A state-of-the-art kitchen and a well-stocked bar hinted at more delightful culinary experiences to come. Everywhere you looked, there were thoughtful details that spoke of Lando's impeccable taste and the promise of unforgettable moments ahead.
"Do you like it?" Lando asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice despite his confident demeanor. You turned to him, eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.
"It's absolutely stunning, Lando. You've outdone yourself," you replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He visibly relaxed, his smile broadening as he took in your reaction.
As you continued exploring the yacht, Lando pointed out various features with pride. From the luxurious master suite to the sleek entertainment system, every detail was carefully curated to provide the ultimate experience.
You could see the passion and effort he had poured into making this yacht a floating paradise.
"I wanted this to be more than just a boat ride," he explained softly. "I wanted it to be a memory we would cherish forever."
You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you as you realized just how much this evening—and this moment—meant to him as well.
You also promised to yourself that you would make the first move to him tonight. With a determined yet gentle resolve, you leaned in closer, your heart pounding in your chest.
"Lando," you began softly, gazing into his eyes, "I want this to be a memory we both cherish forever too."
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After thoroughly exploring every nook and cranny of the luxurious yacht, the two of you found yourselves drawn to the expansive deck, where the horizon was ablaze with the colors of the setting sun.
The sky transformed into a canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples, casting a warm glow over the water.
"Isn’t this just perfect?" you remarked, leaning against the railing and taking in the breathtaking view.
Lando, with a smile that lit up his face, nodded in agreement. “I can’t think of a better way to end the day,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
With the large, plush couch inviting you to sink into its comfort, you both had ample space to stretch out. However, instead of sprawling out, you chose to sit on Lando’s lap, feeling the warmth radiating from him.
"You’re so cozy," you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckled softly, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.
"I could get used to this," he said, his voice low and playful. As you began to massage his head, your fingers weaving through his curls, you pressed soft kisses on his hair, relishing the intimacy of the moment.
"You know, I could stay here forever," you whispered, feeling the world around you fade away.
Lando looked up at you, his expression a mix of affection and mischief. “Forever is a long time, but I wouldn’t mind if it meant more sunsets like this with you,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours.
You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, the connection between you deepening. “Let’s make a pact then,” you suggested, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Every sunset for this break, we find a cozy spot and just enjoy each other’s company.”
He laughed, nodding. “Deal! But only if I get to sit on your lap next time,” he countered, his playful tone making you giggle. . . .
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As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the gentle waves, you found yourself nestled comfortably in Lando's lap on the deck of his sleek yacht, the subtle sway of the boat only adding to the intoxicating atmosphere.
You could hardly remember how you had crossed the line from innocent flirting to this moment, where your lips tangled and your breaths mingled under the fading light. It felt like a long time coming, a slow build-up of longing and unspoken words that finally erupted in a passionate kiss.
Lando smirked, his famous charm practically radiating off him, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he teasingly whispered, “I think you and I have been waiting for this for ages." His hands began to travel across your back, fingers barely grazing your skin, igniting a fire within you that was both thrilling and comforting.
"Is this really happening?” you asked, half-mesmerized by the way his touch sent shivers down your spine.
“I mean, one moment we were only hands, and now…” you trailed off, a mix of disbelief and excitement coursing through me.
Lando chuckled softly, his hands finding a firmer grip on your waist as he pulled you closer, your bodies fitting perfectly together as if they were always meant to be this way.
“Did you only want to hold hands, though?” he questioned, a playful glint in his deep-set eyes. “I’ve always thought there was something more, something bubbling under the surface, waiting for the right moment to explode.”
His words hung in the air, wrapping around you like the gentle sea breeze, and you felt a surge of confidence at his unfiltered honesty.
You let out a breathy laugh, captivated by the moment as you brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your heart racing in synchrony with the rhythm of the waves.
“Are you saying this was all a part of your master plan?” you teased, playfully raising an eyebrow at him.
Lando leaned back slightly, giving you that signature lopsided grin that made your heart flutter. “Master plan? More like a series of happy accidents,” he quipped. “But if I’m being honest, I wanted to kiss you the moment we first met. You were just too busy trying to keep up with the racing jokes.”
You rolled your eyes dramatically, but your heart swelled at his words, realizing how much energy and chemistry had been humming between us all along.
"Well," you replied, resting your forehead against his, "I guess it's a good thing we finally figured it out.
As you settle onto Lando’s lap, a surge of exhilaration runs through you, a mix of the salty breeze from the ocean and the intoxicating smell of sunscreen layered with his cologne.
His eyes, a vivid shade of green, spark with mischief as they meet yours, and a sense of weightlessness seems to blanket the world around you. Moments later, he leans in closer, the heat radiating from his body enveloping you like a warm wave, and without a word, his lips find yours.
You can taste the slight tang of the sea on his mouth, a delicious contrast to the sweet sensation of his kiss.
The world around you fades and the gentle lapping of the water against the yacht become a distant echo; you’re completely absorbed in this captivating moment of connection.
As the kiss deepens, you feel Lando’s tongue dance playfully with yours, each movement sparking a thrilling anticipation that sends shivers down your spine.
You can’t help but pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and feeling the sinewy strength in his shoulders. With every little touch, every brush of his lips, the air seems to vibrate with the unspoken electricity between you.
The world is no longer defined by the yacht or the party behind you; it’s merely the two of you, lost in a fleeting paradise where nothing else matters.
Suddenly, you can feel his hands roaming on your back, and you giggle softly against his lips, teasing him, “You’re not supposed to distract me like this!”
He chuckles in response, his breath warm against your skin, "But how can I resist?"
Just as the kiss begins to take on a more fervent intensity, Lando finds a delicate gap in your dress, his fingers exploring the bare skin of your waist with a confident, gentle caress. The sensation ignites a fire within you, every glide of his fingertips a tantalizing reminder of your shared connection.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and sincere, causing your heart to race.
You smile against him, feeling bold and cherished; “Only when I’m with you,” you reply, feeding the warmth that envelops the two of you.
The embrace seems to stretch into eternity, every kiss and touch intensifying the chemistry that crackles in the summer air, leaving you both intoxicated by the moment and eager for what lies ahead on this magical, sun-kissed day. . . .
Just moments earlier, you had shared a soft, lingering kiss, a tender connection that made your heart race, leaving you momentarily breathless.
"Wow, I didn’t know you were such a great kisser," you teased while gazing into his captivating blue eyes, feeling the flutter of excitement bubbling within you as laughter escaped your lips.
Lando chuckled softly, his gaze locking onto yours with a seriousness that took you aback, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.
As the wind tousled your hair and the sounds of waves crashing against the yacht faded into the background, Lando looked at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.
"I’ve been thinking about this for a while," he began, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability, "and I just can’t keep it to myself any longer. I thought of making a speech but that doesn't sound like a thing I would do so I thought I was just freestyle it. Y/N, you've made me so happy ever since I've met you, you've made me read more books, you've changed my life entirely and I'm grateful for your existence with everyday that passes by."
The playful banter dwindled, and an anticipatory silence enveloped you both as he continued. "Will you be my girlfriend and make the happiest man in the world?"
His question hung in the air, the weight of it leaving you utterly shocked, your mind racing as your heart skipped a beat. You stared at him, the world around you blurring into a hazy backdrop as those words echoed in your mind.
Was this really happening?
Your heart filled with joy and disbelief, and you found yourself momentarily lost in the depths of his ever-watchful eyes, torn between excitement and an overwhelming sense of surprise.
Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you finally managed to respond, the corners of your mouth curving into a smile, though your heart was still racing.
"You really know how to throw a girl off balance, don’t you?" you replied, your voice slightly teasing yet laced with genuine affection. "That's quite the unexpected question, Lando. I mean, I thought we were just having fun on this beautiful yacht, enjoying the sunset."
You felt the blush rising to your cheeks as you remembered the kiss, your heart still hammering. "But, you know," you continued, looking deep into his eyes, trying to gauge the sincerity of his proposal, "I’ve definitely been feeling something special between us."
"but yes, of course I will be your girlfriend. I've been waiting for you to ask the question for weeks now," you said, smiling at how shocked Lando looked at your responce.
"Really? I thought it would be inappropriate to ask so quickly," Lando explained shyly, his cheeks turning red for a second.
"Aww Lando you're such a gentleman!" you said, melting at his words and pressing a kiss on his cheek as a reward. "You definitely deserve a treat after this,"
"I'm all yours," Lando smirked, his hands up in 'surrender' but you knew it wasn't going to take long for his hands to get back on your body. . . .
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robboyblunder · 10 days ago
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As promised I went ahead and continued my "ghoul guide" with a part 2 (part one linked in replies)! This one covers stuff specifically with a made up lore guide of in-world ghoul stuff as if they were a sort of unique magic entity.
This one wound up way longer and had to be split so expect a third final one eventually lmao. for now though... I'm gonna take a break and yell. Bonus extra info plus the transcript under the cut!
ID in ALT text!
Bonus note: While not portrayed in the guide, it’s important to know a detail about ghouls’ origin called “memory echoes”. While ghouls are formed from humans past who lose all memory of their previous self while maintaining an assumed personality from before, at times certain instances of events, actions, items, and otherwise can trigger these “echoes”. Echoes are very rare, but a valued treasure to ghouls; they make them feel more connected to their past and more “human”. Upon triggering an echo, a ghoul will become completely listless, unable to respond or react until the echo has completed, usually within seconds.
“Memory echoes” are described as blurry faded memories that often show featureless shapes and colors, but a very strong “feeling” of a Deja-vu of the moment. They feel viscerally real and can have a mix of the senses i.e. touch and smell, but produce no recognizable faces or imagery of the self. No ghoul has ever reported fully remembering one, nor any semblance of their true past beyond the haunting leftovers.
Begin Transcript:
A Compendium of Hell’s Derivates
While there are many theories on the demonic nature of ghouls,
The true source is surprisingly Human.
Souls cannot be recreated; rather, they’re Recycled and Reborn
The cycle of ghoul creation started for unknown reasons…
But one thing is Certain:
Natural forces do not change easily.
Raw elements collide with the fuel of life itself until one connects
by His command
A violent injection of pure elemental magic
Rewrites and erases all memory and one’s past, drastically altering the soul…
These new powers lend to the powerful allies of the ministry,
However….
… new powers are a dangerous toy.
While coined as “Feral”, new ghouls would better be designated “Raw”, “Unbound”, and “Lawlessly Dangerous”
First formed, they are still elements;
Torrential, Aimless,
Incapable of coherent thought or rules
-but with time, coherence returns to the individual
Who grows much like a life cycle’s stages without necessarily aging.
The overall cycle is the same per ghoul, yet varied enough each rises differently…
First form: “Raw” – Second form (1): “Feral” – Second form (2) – Third form: “Stabilized”
Catalyst, violent, poor formation – Unaware, wild, chaotic – Conscious; can act like oneself; less raw – fully formed and recognizable
The first form, “Raw”, is notably so violent the devil himself does not release them until stage two.
The second form in stage one of a “Feral” ghoul is much like the forces of nature; free willed and wild, understanding minimal speech.
Take caution: they can be mischievous and cause decent damage.
In the second stage of a “Feral” ghoul, they behave like typical people; however, they’re still very free and may choose to never fully stabilize.
Note: you can tell they’ve reached this stage by presence of a tail and civil habits.
If desired, a ghoul reaches the final form: “Stabilized”. They’re transformed into a stable humanoid body, a form less powerful but safer.
Note: Talented ghouls can change form at will in this stage between secondary Feral and Stable.
When it comes to location, each form is most likely to be found:
Raw: Hell, contained
Feral (Stage 1): wilds/natural areas
Feral (Stage 2): wilds and civil areas
Stabilized: anywhere people go
Seeing feral ghouls is not uncommon, and can even be considered lucky!
They tend to provide free protection to keep their home
Ghouls can only stabilize via ministry ritual;
One can assume they’re ministry members if stable, even off duty.
Ghouls are uncommon, but found most places if looked for;
This seems especially true near ministry placements.
Ghouls only form from adults and don’t “age” traditionally, yet they’re still mortal
Deceased ghouls do not seem to return or recycle.
Summoning intentionally pulls only second stage feral ghouls or stable ghouls from anywhere,
They don’t always like this however (see other guide).
The cycle of ghouls serves a main purpose – as forces for the Dark One, in return for rebirth
However, there are two channels through which they serve.
1) Natural defense against corrupted holy magic
Non-stable ghouls defend at will naturally where they live
2) training to fight, protect, and uphold the ministry’s efforts in the name of the Devil.
Contrary to belief, summonings cannot grab from “nothing”;
Like the creation of a ghoul,
Their element, once developed, is what becomes pulled by nature
The force of such pull is incredible,
A disorientating test of will so great…
…it can render even the most sound minds rather violent.
This is why while some choose to stabilize, others may not;
But should a mind change, they can be freed or re-summoned.
Alternative to wild summoning, one can summon from trained ghouls over feral;
Many ghouls are trained for ministry positions all over, but any can be summoned if unassigned.
Though stabilized, unassigned ghouls are not contractually bound to anyone until assigned.
They’re great for extra work hands and being able to know what kind of team mates you’ll get without leaving it to chance.
Summoning any ghoul however reverts them to feral form, and the challenge to tame them remains the same.
Just because you know a ghoul does not mean an easy summon.
Finally, be warned: forcing unwanted breaking or upholding of a summoning contract
Will have dire consequences.
Aside from rarity of an element, there are “power classes” within each element.
Tiers:
Rarity of an element does not equal strength.
The break down is as follows:
Rare – extreme and dangerous power. These ghouls earn a specialized title.
Quite strong, stand out in their class and very sought after.
Most common tier; average and decent powers that are expectable.
Weak powers, but some uses are applicable.
Uncommon – ghouls who possess little to no powers. Ghouls in this tier may at times suddenly change power tier without warning to any other category.
S-Tier ghouls are quite rare and a sight to behold- truly, they embody nature’s power.
End transcript.
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yourmidnightlover · 8 months ago
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forever?
pairing: mob!bucky x reader
summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.
warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!
a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling
pt 2 -> control
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two months out of forever.
two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.
in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents. 
the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place. 
you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely. 
on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be. 
they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.
so far, he’s been the opposite. 
for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady. 
because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light. 
but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much. 
the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.
the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.
you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.
those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…
you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life. 
peace.
a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together. 
but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door. 
“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe. 
“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”
you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”
“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight. 
-
the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting. 
you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls. 
you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.
“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile. 
“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”
“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”
you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline. 
you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun. 
luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting. 
t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you. 
the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway. 
“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men. 
“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”
as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips. 
“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates. 
in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned. 
you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes. 
you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with. 
you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often. 
you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip. 
“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be. 
“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.
“i don’t-i’ve got it…”
“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.
“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband. 
“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”
then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins. 
“i think he might mind.”
you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away. 
his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.
“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.
your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you? 
you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this. 
your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.
and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think. 
you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted. 
“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly. 
“but the dish-”
“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.” 
“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.
he won’t hurt you.
he has to protect his image.
you’ve embarrassed him.
you’re his wife.
you’re his business deal.
you’ve humiliated him.
he’ll hurt you.
you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident. 
your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth. 
and then there was a knock at the door. 
your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting. 
he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements. 
“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.
automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.
“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft. 
you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was. 
“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”
“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again. 
“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.” 
“you don’t have to-”
“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.
you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you. 
how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing… 
“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.
“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.
“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed. 
sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point. 
but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad. 
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swordgrace · 4 months ago
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𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 — 𝐈.
⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ daemon targaryen x otto’s wife!reader x otto hightower.
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synopsis: as the young wife of otto hightower, your joy is threadbare, and your husband is absent. when you have a chance encounter with the rogue prince at the heir’s tournament, you become entangled in a web of desire that you cannot get out of.
SERIES — 1/?
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༺ FORMAT: one-shot — not requested, part of a series.
༺ WORD COUNT: 11.5K.
༺ WARNINGS: SMUT!, dubious consent / mild coercion, infidelity, cheating (on otto), legal age gap (for reader/otto and reader/daemon), inexperienced reader, otto is an absent husband, seduction, sexual tension & yearning, reader is sexually repressed, loss of virginity, risk of getting caught, choking, biting / marking, begging, groping, scratching, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, finger-fucking, p in v sex (unprotected), multiple positions, possessive daemon, mention of child death.
༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am so incredibly excited for this fic series, I feel like it could be a good one! I really appreciate all of the support I’ve been getting on the Aemond fic, another one will be coming up soon! Hello to all of my new followers, I am so excited to have you all here! Please enjoy this part, it’s a big one, but it sets the stage for future parts!
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𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — you often saw inklings of it in Alicent’s eyes whenever you held her gaze, and noticed the subtle twitch of her mouth with any attempt at conversation. It always fell short, a relationship that had no ounce of potential, nothing to kindle it.
Sometimes, you wished that you could hold her hands, cuticles raw, and tell her that you were one and the same. It always made you uncomfortable to contemplate the closeness in age between you and Alicent, and the longer you dwelled on it, the more bitter you felt.
You were only three years her senior — one-and-twenty, married to her father, Otto Hightower — the hand of the King. Marriage was a concept that you were groomed for, and to be wed to a man of such stature and importance was a great victory for your house.
Otto was an absent husband, at best. His proceedings as Hand left him occupied, and whenever he did return to you, he was often burying himself in whatever business the King had assigned him to. Otto often took much of it on himself, with little time left for you.
You were nothing more than an accessory — a beautiful accessory, at that.
Otto had little desire for another child, and for that, you were eternally grateful to the Gods for allowing such a thing. It was a rarity for a man of his station to take up a wife with no intention of children. In all actuality, he simply missed his wife and yearned for her presence.
Whatever you were, you partially filled the void, but it would never be the same.
There was an emptiness within you that intensified as each day passed, a gaping hole in your body that simply collected dust. You were nothing more than a shimmering jewel for Otto to reveal in the public eye, but put away when it was all said and done.
It wasn’t a horrible existence, but you were unfulfilled. Life felt mundane, and despite the lavish and privileged setting you dwelled within, everything seemed gray, as if you were simply gazing out of a window, seeing the happiness of everyone else.
The more time you spent toiling over your woes and steeping yourself into self-resentment and hopelessness, the more restless you became. You didn’t want to keep pushing yourself into that fray of unhappiness, not when it weighed upon you so heavily already.
Appearances were sacred to Otto, who insisted you join him at the Heir’s Tournament, a celebration to usher in King Viserys and Queen Aemma’s newborn child. A joust and seven days of feasting and revelry were upon you, a routine affair whenever royal children were born.
In the Tower of the Hand, surrounded by a flock of fussing handmaidens, you smoothed your palms across the deep emerald gown, silk soft underneath your fingertips. Your beauty was unmatched — the rare jewel from the North that Otto Hightower had stolen for himself.
It would be a long day, yet the sun shimmered down upon King’s Landing and the Red Keep — a good sign of the festivities to come. You were the picture of a true maiden, not an imperfection in-sight, thanks to the handiwork of your numerous handmaidens.
A knock at your chamber door alerted you to your husband’s presence — it was always stern and rigid.
“Come!” You called, peering at yourself through the large mirror of an upright vanity. The only thing that happened to be missing was a stone around your neck, but you had an impressive array to choose from.
Otto stood within your doorway, always so formal and calculating. He was a difficult man to read — you had been wed for a handful of months, and he was still that way after all this time. “Hm.” He appraised you with a stoic gaze, unwavering and indiscernible.
Sheepishly, you turned for him to see, folding your hands together. “Is this suitable for the Tournament?” You inquired, the colors of your regalia that of House Hightower — emerald with gold embellishments.
In Otto Hightower’s eyes, you would never measure up to his first wife, his true love — but you were perfectly adequate, and that was all you needed to be. He stepped forward, staring down at you with an inkling of warmth within his eyes, tracing a finger across the soft slope of your jaw. “You look resplendent.”
That singular grain of warmth was something you would hold onto, and you mustered up enough of a smile to press a chaste kiss against Otto’s cheek. The gesture was brief, yet even the Hand himself seemed perplexed by it. You wanted to show affection, but Otto never seemed interested in reciprocating.
His kind words were enough to appease you, prompting you to smile as you bowed your head. “Thank you, husband.” Pleased by this, you made sure to string a necklace of peridot around your neck before Otto offered you his arm. It was a courtly procedure — nothing inherently affectionate about it, as you expected.
The walk to the tournament grounds was a lengthy one, but it gave you time to admire the buzz of the Red Keep. The excitement for the birth of a new Targaryen heir was palpable, felt by all you passed. Otto was always stalwart, with a pensive and unreadable expression.
Both you and Otto joined Alicent and Rhaenyra in the stands above the jousting grounds, with crowds of common folk and nobles alike joining in the rancor. Alicent seemed less than thrilled to see you, but you weren’t met with her usual icy indifference.
“Lady Hightower,” King Viserys greeted you with a kindly smile, prompting you to drop into a curtsy. “I am surprised to see that Otto brought you along. It is good to have you here.”
“It is a beautiful day, my King — I certainly hope this favor shines down upon you and your family.” You replied, offering the King a pleasant smile. Admittedly, you were rather excited to see a joust — it was good to be outside amongst your peers, not hidden away within the Tower of the Hand.
Your manners and pleasantries, the eloquent way in which you spoke to others, was a quality that Otto did admire about you. You were soft and kindhearted, possessing all of the gentle traits of a young maiden, a Lady in the making. If it weren’t for such qualities, he might’ve favored you a little less.
As you sat beside Otto, he remained rigid, gazing down upon the field. His eldest son, Gwayne, was amongst the many competitors preparing for the Joust. You had met Gwayne on a handful of occasions, and whilst he did not harbor as much bitterness as Alicent might’ve, he was still rather obtuse about your presence.
You had learned to develop a thick skin — as much as you desired to be friends to both Alicent and Gwayne, you were not their mother. You never wanted that role, either. Motherhood, especially at your young age, sounded most undesirable.
Admittedly, you were enamored with the horses, too — the beautiful beasts that carried their riders to glory, or otherwise. Your love of animals was well-known, something that Otto occasionally treated you to.
Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother to the King, rode out upon a steed as black as the dusk, bearing the Targaryen crest upon his shield. The draconic motif of his armor and helmet had made him appear fierce — a most intimidating competitor.
Otto seemed less than pleased — you knew that your husband despised the Prince, and the feeling was mutual. In your brief encounters with Daemon, often in Otto’s presence, their disdain was palpable. It was all vitriol and hatred, a constant battle for who could obtain the upper hand.
Knowing that Daemon chose Gwayne to joust to spite your husband made you somewhat apprehensive, but admittedly, sometimes you felt that Otto deserved to have his skin crawl at times. You didn’t like it for Alicent’s sake, her brother in harm’s way, but you had to stake in it.
The Prince rode forward, parading around the length of the field before he approached the royal stand, jousting lance held high. His lips curled into a lopsided smirk, and suddenly, you found that he was looking directly at you — those violet hues of his held your bashful stare.
“Lady Hightower,” He called, loud enough for those to hear it. Alicent began to stand, but Daemon shook his head. “Not you, my Lady.” He gestured toward you with his lance, sneer subtle and his eyes full of intrigue and the desire to make Otto Hightower squirm.
Visibly surprised, you looked to Otto, who seemed entirely displeased — but he wasn’t one to make his weakness known. “Otto, should I …” You trailed off, glancing toward the small table with your favor sitting atop it.
“I am fairly certain that I can win these games with ease, by having your favor, Lady Hightower.” Daemon spoke loud enough for all around to hear, inviting an audience — in all actuality, he simply wanted Otto to bear witness to charming you. “Would you do me the great pleasure of granting me your favor?”
Otto grimaced, countenance beginning to simmer with anger, deep below the surface. He bristled, jaw unnaturally tight. His fingers curled into a fist, yet he had no intention of denying you such an act, if you so desired. This was a tournament, after all — and any reaction that he gave, Daemon would indulge himself in.
Startled, you looked to Otto for approval, yet he offered you none. Reluctantly, you rose to your feet, retrieving a wreath of beautiful blossoms — gold, ochre, and shades of pink. You stepped toward the terrace’s edge, meeting the handsome visage of Daemon Targaryen, with his lance ready to receive your favor.
“Where has your husband been keeping you all this time, my Lady?” Daemon questioned, loud enough for only you to hear. Your breath hitched within your throat at his brashness, lips parting slightly as you cradled your favor between your hands.
Instead, you dipped down, offering the Prince a sheepish smile, wrought with some confusion as you tossed it onto his lance. “Good luck, my Prince. I hope to see your victory in this joust.” You nodded, keeping your formalities intact before you curtsied, swiftly clamoring to find your place beside Otto.
Daemon smirked, his gaze hot enough to melt right through you, if you let it. It never left you, even when you ascended the steps to sit beside your husband, the Rogue Prince ensured that you writhed beneath his watchful eyes.
Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, Daemon’s incendiary stare was something that you were so unaccustomed to — Otto never looked at you that way, as if you were a treasure, something to be coveted. It left you to mull over your thoughts for the entirety of the tournament.
The carnage that ensued was typical for a joust, especially one with so many warring factions. Men tore one another from their horses, dueled in the dirt, bashed skulls in. The tangy scent of copper filled the air, one that had unfortunately become ingrained in you.
It brought you back to your youth, as you recalled your sister falling from her steed, head crushed to nothingness upon the rocks. The scent of blood would always loom over you like a black cloud for as long as you lived.
Otto glanced toward you, reaching for your hand as he gave it a subtle squeeze. He did not offer any words of reassurance, lips a thin, pensive line before one of the Maesters stepped in behind him, whispering news into his ear. His expression changed instantaneously.
Something was wrong — you could feel it in your marrow.
Alicent looked to you and Otto, and you saw her fingers, picked bloody and raw, and you felt nothing but sympathy. When Otto immediately stood, letting go of your hand, you watched with a furrowed brow as he momentarily disappeared — King Viserys was long gone, absent for a majority of the Tournament.
It was only when Daemon Targaryen and Criston Cole began to duel, that your attention went elsewhere. You watched in subtle awe as Daemon fought, clad in black armor and crimson scales, the colors of House Targaryen. Dark Sister in his right hand, thrusting at the Dornish Knight with an unholy vengeance.
At last, when it ended with Daemon haughtily retreating from the field, you wondered where your husband had gone, disappearing altogether. He had left behind guards to escort you back to the Red Keep, but his absence left you feeling more afraid of the walk back.
Nonetheless, you gathered your skirts, knowing that Alicent had long since left with Rhaenyra. You didn’t worry for her safety — as long as she was with the Princess, no harm would befall her.
“The Hand advised that we take you back to the Keep at once, Lady Hightower.” One of your guards prompted, ushering you towards the stands as the pair assisted you in getting back down. There was a sense of urgency in their steps, but you were confused by it. Had something happened that required Otto’s immediate attention?
You descended the steps from the stand, finding yourself in a sea of nobles and commoners alike, attempting to return to their homes and daily lives. Your guards remained vigilant, assisting you in pushing through towards the stables. There was a quieter path there, a shorter way to the Red Keep.
“This way, my Lady.” One guard made way, allowing you to go first as you made it to the tournament stables. Many of the Knights, those that still drew breath, were collecting their coin and saddling their horses, preparing to make an exit. There was one horse in particular that caught your eye — Daemon’s steed, as black as night.
The Prince himself appeared from the obscured view of the tent, and you nearly scuttled away at the insistence of your protectors, but Daemon saw you first.
“Lady Hightower,” Daemon greeted you, voice often tinged with something sly, a hint of arrogance. Those violet eyes of his bore down upon you as he approached, still clad in his armor. There were smears of dirt upon his face, flecks of crimson, yet it did not detract from his beauty. “Have you come to praise my victory?”
The guards who stood at your flank seemed less than thrilled with this interaction that was forming. They seemed to dislike Daemon as much as Otto did — and you wondered if there was an influence present.
“We are merely passing through, to return to the Red Keep,” Your soft gaze flickered toward Daemon’s horse, admiring its flawless dark coat. “Your horse is beautiful. It served you well through the tournament.”
Daemon noticed that flicker of admiration and happiness within your eyes, coaxing the stallion closer with a mere tug of the reins. He brought it close, close enough for you to touch. “He is yours, if you want him.” His words might’ve struck you as sardonic, but Daemon appeared to be genuine in such an action.
As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t accept such a gift — and when would you have time to ride, anyway? Otto would never let you past the Keep’s gates, let alone into the forests beyond. “That is too kind of you, my Prince. I am afraid that I must decline — it would be unfair to have a horse that I cannot give any attention to.” You sighed, your features somewhat melancholy.
Fascinating — quite the ironic parallel to your own situation. If you did not see the amusement in it, Daemon most certainly did. “How thoughtful of you, Lady Hightower.” He hesitated, lips twitching into a rather mocking smirk at his next words. “Where is that charming husband of yours?”
You should’ve been offended on Otto’s behalf, especially with the Prince’s contemptuous tone, but you felt nothing. You couldn’t retort, mouth becoming dry as you cleared your throat. “My husband found himself preoccupied with duties as Hand, my Prince. He needed to leave.”
Daemon scoffed, lip curling slightly as he glanced toward your guards. “So he left you with this pathetic display of protection?” The Prince immediately drew the ire of the guards, who seemed less than pleased with Daemon’s remarks. “I could gut them before they could draw their swords.”
“Is that a threat, Commander?” One of your guards hissed, grip tightening upon the pommel of his shortsword. The weight of the scenario made you nervous, prompting you to direct your gaze toward Daemon, whose mouth was upturned in an amused smirk.
“Hardly. It is a promise.” Daemon retorted, hands interlocked atop the pommel of Dark Sister — a legendary blade of Valyrian Steel. You knew that your feeble guards were no match to a swordsman of Daemon’s caliber.
Before steel could be brandished, you immediately extended your hand, anxiousness welling within your heart. It frightened you to be so close to potential violence, but you had some station. “Enough — all of you!” You quipped, hands beginning to quiver.
Daemon chuckled, seemingly perplexed by your sudden display of authority. He did not dispute your call for peace, staring at your guards with a narrowed gaze. “If you are seeking better company than these fucking imbeciles, I will gladly escort you to the Red Keep, Lady Hightower.”
You shouldn’t — Otto would be so displeased.
Every fiber of your body screamed at you to turn away Prince Daemon’s proposal. It was improper, and you knew that your Lord husband would become cantankerous if he were to find out that Daemon was near you, let alone providing passage back to the Red Keep.
He could sense your hesitation, born out of loyalty to your withering husband, Daemon assumed. The conflict that danced within your eyes was one that he wholly intended on manipulating — you were much too sweet. The Prince clicked his tongue, awaiting your response.
“It isn’t a difficult question, my Lady.” Perhaps, his tone might’ve put you off just a little bit, but he was confident that you would accept. Daemon regarded you with those lilac hues of his, calculating and sly.
“Yes,” You interjected, much to the disdain of your guards, “but my guards will stay with me.” It was the smartest option — if you were left alone with Daemon, you feared what rumors could be spun from such an action. You were naive at times, but not completely stupid.
Daemon knew this — he knew your intentions, but he also knew his own. With a sardonic laugh, he readied his belongings, gesturing to take your leave onto the cobblestone streets. “Do you have such little trust in your Prince?”
A ripple of heat fluttered over your features, subsiding just as quickly as it came. You twisted your hands together, fingers interlocked as you fell quiet. Daemon’s salacious reputation followed him like a shadow — violent, promiscuous, and arrogant. It was common knowledge that the Prince possessed crude interests.
“It is not that, my Prince. My Lord Husband will wonder why the guards are at the Keep before I am. I do not want him to worry — he has enough to attend to as it is as Hand of the King.” A threadbare excuse, at best, but much to your relief, Daemon let the matter rest, for now.
The violet-eyed Prince let out a scoff at that, yet he elected not to fluster you further. Your announcement of Otto’s station was most amusing, as if he needed reminding. He joined you, walking side-by-side as you made it onto the noble path back to the Red Keep. It was a safer trek than taking the commoner’s route.
Silence filled the gap between you both, with your guards tailing you and Daemon, ensuring that no one interfered with such royal affairs. He was growing quite bored with the lack of conversation — especially with someone like you. You were interesting and new, something to be inspected.
“Isn’t it the duty of a husband to attend to his wife?” Daemon questioned, attempting to toy with you. He thoroughly enjoyed getting under Otto Hightower’s skin, but admittedly, he did want to know more about you. You were beautiful — a pretty maiden hanging upon the Hand’s arm; he wondered how that came to be.
Your jaw tightened, causing your frustration to brew as you held your skirts within one hand, continuing to make your way up the steps. “Why are you not in the Vale with Lady Royce, if that is what you truly think?” You quipped, somewhat unnerved with how he picked apart your marriage.
Otto wasn’t attentive — if anything, he only became attentive when appearances mattered most. There was no desire nor genuine interaction outside of that. You lived a very lonely life, even if it seemed so wonderful and lavish on the outside.
Daemon chuckled, bemused by your fiery retort. You became so flustered whenever he successfully managed to poke and prod at you. “I’ve no interest in my Bronze Bitch,” He replied, his tone dripping with an underlying venom, “The sheep in the Vale are prettier.”
You huffed, brows furrowing together. This seemed like a horrible idea, allowing Daemon to escort you back to the Keep. He was crass and unpredictable, yet you couldn’t help but find some merit in his examination of your relationship with Otto.
“I am sure that there are plenty of worthwhile subjects in your City to keep you satisfied, my Prince. This isn’t the Vale.” You exhaled, exasperated and agitated that Otto had simply left you at the Tournament grounds.
He could sense it — your repression, the twinge of desperation laced within your voice. Daemon didn’t expect any wife of Otto Hightower to be truly sated and satisfied, but you were the true picture of a jewel locked away in a chest, or hidden beneath mounds of soot. No one had bothered to truly see you as you were.
Emboldened, Daemon knew that tempting you with pretty words could have consequences — fortunately for him, he didn’t care in the slightest. “The only worthwhile subject is standing before me.” He countered, lips twitching into the ghost of a smirk.
A shiver ran down the length of your spine, heart galloping just a little faster when Daemon brazenly showered you in his silver-tongued sayings. You hadn’t been spoken to in such a manner before, and as much as you should’ve countered it, you didn’t.
Heat crept through your features as you kept your head down, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “I do not know what you speak of, my Prince.” Your reply was weak, soft spoken as you continued on your path back to the Red Keep. You didn’t want to reveal just how warm it made you feel.
“I believe you do,” Daemon mused, stepping close enough to you to ensure that the guards wouldn’t eavesdrop. “Surely, your Lord Husband has offered you such pleasure before, has he not?” His Valyrian timbre made your breath hitch within your throat.
“Prince Daemon,” You were in disbelief at his brashness, at how forward he was being with you. You didn’t want to indulge him — yet part of you did. “You must stop.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, strained and throaty. The silence became overwhelming as you made it toward the gates of the Red Keep.
When his name rolled from your tongue, Daemon’s lilac hues glistened with something indiscernible. He enjoyed the way you said his name — trembling and uncertain, as if he had revealed some horrible truth to you. Instead, the Prince stared at you, looking toward the gates.
“As you wish,” Daemon’s arrogance wafted from him like a thick haze, enough to permeate your immediate space. The Prince opted to shift the subject matter to something more appropriate — for your own sake, of course. “I suspect that I will have a nephew, soon enough.”
Daemon sounded indifferent, as if the prospect of a nephew wasn’t at all a pleasant idea. It would make him lower in the ranking of succession, you knew this. Otto had made multiple campaigns against Daemon to keep him from reaching the Iron Throne. Their rivalry was petty, as far as you were concerned.
Your steps slowed, keeping pace with Daemon as you made your way to the gates of the Red Keep. “You don’t sound very jovial, for an uncle.” You replied, and your observation seemed to catch his attention. “King Viserys is your brother. Are you not excited?”
A scoff escaped him as he stared at you, violet hues narrowing at your perceptiveness. “Is that how I seem to you, Lady Hightower? Devoid of joy?” Daemon smiled disparagingly, perching a palm atop the pommel of his blade.
Swallowing the slight lump within your throat, you detected his shackled fury, and you did not want to provoke the dragon any further. “My apologies, your Grace. I did not mean to be presumptuous.” You replied, fingers curling into your skirts.
“Of course you didn’t,” Daemon mused, lips twitching into a sardonic smirk. He seemed to believe you — though, part of your line of questioning felt personal, in retaliation for his jabs about your Lord Husband. “Have you been permitted to see the Dragonpit?”
Of the many places in King’s Landing, Daemon often longed to be on the back of Caraxes — or with his blade driven into any that crossed his path. You hadn’t been to see the Dragonpit yourself, considering that a lady of your station could never go many places unaccompanied.
“No, my Prince.” Disappointment danced within your voice, pace slowing again to keep in-step with Daemon. “I would love to see it, if allowed. Dragons are gorgeous creatures, symbols of your strength.” With a soft sigh, you looked to the Red Keep, looming overhead.
Daemon stepped closer, in close quarters as he looked down at you, noticing the subtle hitch within your throat. “Hm,” He glanced at your stalwart escorts, lilac eyes flickering over your pretty countenance. He dipped closer, lips ghosting near the shell of your ear. “Should your husband release you from your shackles, I could show you.”
A strange wave of gooseflesh crawled along the length of your spine, brows furrowing together as you recoiled, as if being scorched. You looked to Daemon with bewilderment, lip curling slightly as you regained your composure. “Your offer is a gracious one, your Grace.” You murmured.
It often shocked you how reckless Daemon was — abrasive and careless with his position. He could bed whomever he wanted, fuck and fight whenever it best suited him. It wasn’t a possibility for you, a noblewoman married to the Hand of the King. Part of you wished you could be afforded the liberties of a man like Daemon, but it was merely a fantasy.
Silence drifted between the both of you, enough to bring you some discomfort as you heard the doors to the Red Keep creak open. Daemon’s incendiary stare never wavered, never faltered as he kept his eyes on you. Your guardsmen were less than thrilled, but kept quiet as the two of you stepped into the hall.
“This is where I bid you farewell, my Prince.” Your voice was shrewd, nothing more than the soft lull of a mouse. Daemon regarded you with the ghost of a smirk, bowing before you as any gentleman would.
“I look forward to our next meeting, Lady Hightower.” Daemon replied, glancing toward a group of Targaryen guards that made their way to him. Your own escorts were happy to take advantage of the gap in attention, whisking you away into the depths of the Red Keep.
The atmosphere had shifted, from jovial and celebratory to eerie and desolate, somber — servants and nobles alike seemed riddled with melancholy, their heads hung low. Whispers of a fallen heir touched your ears, and then you understood why Otto had left in such a hurry.
Queen Aemma and her newborn son were dead.
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You remembered what the air smelled like, the day of your sister’s funeral — you recalled the swaying of golden grass against stone, those in-mourning unable to stifle their tears. It was your mother that had wailed the most, draped across the terrace where her body lay, cloaked by a funerary shroud.
Now, the memories seemed to dance along the fringes of your mind, standing within the open plain far from King’s Landing, along the coastline of Blackwater Bay. Salty air peppered your flesh in soft kisses, eyes stinging with the onslaught of tears.
The despondent look on King Viserys’s face had harkened back to your youth, moments that still haunted your steps. You stood beside Otto, who appeared resolute despite the tragedy, but even you could see the wisps of empathy that flickered across his countenance. Stoicism was his forte, but even death could break the strongest man apart.
Daemon appeared somber, violet hues occasionally drifting toward his brother, the King, who let out a muffled sob as Rhaenyra set the funeral pyre ablaze. Dragon’s fire would return dragons to ash, to the great beyond. You admired the strength of the Princess, even through dour moments like this.
Once the burning of Queen Aemma and Baelon had ended, what nobles were left gathered amongst themselves to pay their respects, to the deceased and to the King. Viserys seemed indifferent, so far removed from the moment as his subjects offered their condolences.
Otto’s hand pressed into the small of your back, the first comforting gesture that he’d offered, completely unprovoked. He dipped down, enough to murmur words reserved for you and him. “The King will need my council during these dark times,” He uttered, “Now more than ever.”
You nodded, knowing that it implied Otto would be less present than he already was. His lips briefly graced the crown of your head before he slipped past, stepping towards King Viserys and Rhaenyra.
Standing alone, you opted to wander, venturing away from the melancholy gathering and toward the sea of wheatgrass that danced with the saltwater breeze. The scent of the ocean filled your lungs, made them whole — it was far better than that of King’s Landing.
Rays of a dying sun sparkled down upon you, licking your flesh with a comforting warmth that you savored. It was enough to make you exhale, eyes fluttering shut as you imagined yourself worlds away, or perhaps sailing out to sea, where it was only your hands that guided you.
The evening breeze jostled your tresses, blanketing your face with its softness. The tears that had prickled your eyes no longer made residence there as you hastily wiped them aside, hands wringing together before you.
Footsteps reverberated from your left side, as the shape of Prince Daemon came into your view. Despite the whirlwind of emotions he’d left you with earlier that day, you were inclined to place them aside. His dark tunic, lined in dragonscales, glittered beneath the waning sunlight.
“I am deeply sorry for your loss, Prince Daemon. I cannot imagine the pain of losing two of your family in one day,” You murmured, lips forming a pensive line as you looked at the Targaryen. He was unusually quiet for a spell, which prompted you to fill in the void. “I hope that your brother will recover.”
“He is the Dragon,” Daemon echoed, hands folded in front of him. “He will endure.” As for the Prince, there was some discomfort knowing that such a bloody fate had befallen Aemma. His sister-by-law had always been a devoted wife and good mother, and such a loving woman was difficult to come by. “My sister was a good woman.”
You had met Queen Aemma on multiple occasions, and she was pure — softhearted and kind, with a gentle visage that was sure to put anyone at ease. “She was,” You lamented, echoing Daemon’s sentiments with a threadbare smile. “And a good Queen.”
That was something Daemon could not argue with, violet hues finally shifting away from the horizon and onto you, a picture of beauty. Even in black tapestries, the color of mourning, you were still rather enchanting. Tenderness blossomed from within you, a soft heart — it was enough to temper Daemon, for just a moment.
He searched your visage, able to detect the growing dolour that became etched into your features. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears, many that threatened to spill over as you twisted your fingers together. “The last funeral that I attended was that of my sister,” You uttered, facing Daemon with a bitter smile. “I hoped that I would not have to attend another.”
A sister — Daemon was somewhat inquisitive regarding the finer details of your life, but he did not want to pry at the present. “Unfortunately, you will find that death is constant and unyielding,” He offered little consolation, but it was the hard truth. “Though, I trust that you will endure, just as my brother will.”
Daemon was often harsh and crass, always a realist with little desire to pull the wool over another’s eyes unless it was for personal gain. He knew that you were sweet, too malleable for this world — he hoped to see you blossom into something strong. With Otto Hightower for a husband, any woman would become as tough as steel.
Part of you wished for flowery words of reassurance from Daemon, but you found none — just a stoicism with an inkling of empathy. Though, you weren’t expecting much, and Otto would be of little comfort, too.
“You are more than just a wife, if you choose it. Do not allow yourself to sit underneath his boot forever.” Daemon murmured, boldly stepping inward to get a better look at you. Your subdued nature was partially Otto’s fault — he blamed the Hand for your sheltered demeanor, for your loneliness.
A brief stirring sensation erupted within your chest, and you looked to Daemon, a singular tear spilling across your forlorn features. “I do not have your luxuries, my Prince — I cannot bed whom I want, go wherever I please, abandon my husband — duty is everything. It may not mean anything to you, but it means something to me.” You quipped, your voice hushed yet strained.
Daemon huffed, lips curling slightly, as if to express disdain. Part of him understood your deep-rooted frustration, but perhaps he simply wanted to pass on his recklessness to you. “Quite presumptuous of you to assume that I care little for duty,” He replied, easily crawling beneath your skin. “You can do whatever you please, once you stop being so afraid.”
You nearly recoiled from him, clearly stung by the attack on your character. His assumption of your fear made you bristle, nostrils flaring as you turned your face away to mask the swell of anger. “This is where I leave you, Prince Daemon.” You hissed between gritted teeth, hands curled into fistfuls within your skirts.
He found your irritation to be somewhat perplexing — you were so repressed, tangled within your devotion to Otto and constant desolation. Daemon said nothing, merely watching as you retreated into the shadow of your Lord Husband.
You wouldn’t dare look back at Daemon — even as you felt those lilac hues pierce your defenses, you refused him, and made your way back with Otto.
If it were up to you, you would never see Daemon Targaryen again.
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰, 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 — there was no joy to be found anywhere. With the King’s son and wife deceased, the idea of succession was called into question by the small Council. Part of you felt disgusted by the suddenness of such a meeting, especially while the King was in mourning.
Otto cared little for such things. It was imperative that an heir be chosen — or produced yet again, by means of a new betrothal for the King.
Despite the melancholy atmosphere of the Keep, your thoughts remained disorganized and scattered, preoccupied with Daemon Targaryen — and that was a dangerous thing. After his whispered inquiry of pleasure, his berating of you at the funeral, you could not rid him from your mind no matter how much you tried.
Any attempt to flush the Prince’s brazen advances out of your mind were met with a powerful resistance — the other half of you that had little desire to forget. In all honesty, you wanted to know what it was like to be coveted and sought-after, to feel true pleasure, understand its intricacies.
The other half demanded that you reject him, unleash your shackled wrath upon him. He vexed you like no other had before — he far exceeded that of Otto. Daemon had crawled beneath your flesh and taken up permanent residency there, and he would continue to do so unless you plucked up the courage to put a stop to it.
That night, you couldn’t sleep — Otto was nowhere to be found, meeting within the dead of night with the rest of the small Council. Even if he weren’t caught within a meeting, he seldom came to bed with you. He was often in his study, mulling over books, writing letters, attending to matters that didn’t involve you.
You were never involved in much of anything.
Frustration festered within you, rising like the swell of an encroaching tide. Clad in your evening gown, you retrieved a candlestick, slipping out of the Tower of the Hand and into the corridors of the Red Keep. Midnight strolls were not an uncommon thing for you, but this one proved to be more than just elusive sleep.
Your path led you dangerously close to the Small Council chambers, but as you approached, a figure stood outside of one wall, leering in through the tiny gaps. Light slipped through, providing faint illumination onto the face of Daemon Targaryen.
The Prince had been eavesdropping, curious to know about their intentions for succession. Should Viserys pass, the Iron Throne would fall to Daemon — but they wouldn’t allow it. Otto, in particular, was rather vocal in the push against Daemon as the rightful heir.
Daemon turned, craning to peer over his shoulder. Those shadowed, lilac hues drifted across you, your supple form glad in some lace-laden nightgown. Your hair had been pinned-up when he saw you last, and now, it was freed from its confines. He found you to be a visual feast for the eyes — beautiful beyond compare.
In the background, you listened to the squabbling from the Council members, the infighting over who would become heir. It disgusted you, the manner in which they conducted themselves — the Queen and her son were deceased, and the only thing that preoccupied them were the rights of succession.
The silence that lingered between you and Daemon was necessary, necessary enough for you to hear the numerous slanders that your Lord Husband hurled at the Prince. Their hatred continued to fester, and for as long as Otto Hightower lived and thrived in a position of power, he would plague Daemon’s every step.
At last, Daemon stepped away from his eavesdropping, moving towards you instead. “Looking for your husband, Lady Hightower?” He questioned, his voice rich as it dipped lower, hushed and soft enough for only you to hear. The narrow corridor you stood within was as silent as a crypt, not a guard in-sight.
You shook your head, lowering the candle toward your chest. Warmth brushed across your exposed collarbone, and you glanced at Daemon, lips parting slightly. “I could not sleep,” You confessed, teeth gnawing at your lower lip. “I suspect that you are here for a different reason.”
Concealed within the listless shadows of the corridor, Daemon took a step closer, nearly within arm’s reach. His mouth curled into that familiar, cheshire smirk — and it worried you. “What reason would that be, my Lady?” He questioned, head canting slightly.
The calculated way in which he stalked towards you left you feeling somewhat unnerved, hand cupped around the flickering light of the candle. Whatever look he had in his eyes, it mirrored the one he’d given you at the Tournament earlier that day — incendiary and lascivious.
“To see if you will ascend the Throne.” Daemon’s ambition was well-known — and sometimes, his ambition drove him to recklessness and ruthlessness. You knew about his displays of violence as Commander of the City Watch, his prowess with a blade.
Daemon scoffed, continuing to press closer to you, looming above you. The candlelight flickered across his sharp visage, basking him in an orange glow that touched his violet hues. His lips remained permanently fixed into a perplexed smirk, his hand reaching to grab your chin.
As if scorched, you jerked away, brows furrowing together as you glowered at him. “I do not want to see you anymore,” You mumbled, shaking your head with an air of defiance. “You’ve angered me.”
A sardonic chuckle escaped him, enough to further your agitation. It pricked away at your flesh, giving way to a layer of perspiration as it crept along your spine. “Angered you, is that it?” Daemon questioned, attempting to make you writhe. “If you truly wish to be rid of me, walk away — go back to the Hand’s bed.” He challenged.
Your heart slammed within your sternum, lip curling in disdain as you shook your head. The tension crackled between the two of you, one charged with a dangerous desire and anger — two overpowering emotions. “All you care for is the throne.” You whispered, yet your words held no merit at all.
It was something Otto would’ve hurled at him, and you were not your husband — you were far from it.
It was a feeble attempt to bait Daemon into anger just as he had so easily baited you. He was not quick to fall to your ploy, and instead, he happened to stare at you as if you were everything he’d ever wanted. It made you shiver — no one had looked at you like that before.
“You think me so singleminded, Lady Hightower,” He uttered, thumb tracing along your jawline. “I have little interest in the Throne.” In an unexpected move, he dipped forward, lips ghosting around the shell of your ear. “I am far more interested in you.”
Goosebumps cascaded down the length of your spine, and fear rippled through you at Daemon’s close quarters. You were terrified of someone seeing you with the Prince, and you stepped back, wrenching yourself free from his grasp. “This is inappropriate, my Prince. I am afraid you are experiencing a severe lapse in judgment.”
As you began to retreat away from the Council chambers and into the darkness of the corridor, Daemon followed, a predator trailing after prey. He cornered you into an alcove, his chuckle bemused and sardonic.
“My judgment is sound — the only judgment that will be called into question is your own,” He challenged, pinning you against the smooth stone of the wall. His hand cupped your hip, keeping you locked into place. “My poor, sweet Lady Hightower, left untouched and without a lick of attention from your dutiful husband.” Daemon clicked his tongue.
You shuddered, attempting to squirm and ward Daemon away, but he simply kept up his pursuit. “Please,” You whispered, fright filling your startled heart. The Prince’s lust had grown astronomically — all for you, this hidden jewel now within his grasp. “We can’t, Prince Daemon. Someone might see.” You urged.
Daemon seemed unconvinced, lips hovering above your own, tempting you in the most unholy way imaginable. That strong hand that held your hip began to knead into the flesh there, desiring to feel your bare skin. “Fuck everyone else.” He uttered, hot breath fanning across your countenance.
A soft whimper escaped you, and every fiber of your being cried out for him — you wanted this, wanted him to show you what true pleasure felt like. You watched as he inclined his head, blowing the candle out with a faint grin, leaving the both of you in darkness, save for the moonlight that pooled within the halls.
“I can’t, I don’t …” You whispered, voice mousy and meek, yet your resolve was crumbling away, revealing your soul, bare and angry. Part of you loathed Otto for never showing you affection, never indulging in desire, yet the other half of you yearned for the Rogue Prince to steal your virtue. “Daemon.”
It was guilt that had consumed you, initially — the guilt of betraying your husband, despite his lack of desire towards you. You never had anything for yourself — perhaps this could be the one thing. A clenched fist pushed against his chest, but you were weak.
“Why continue to wait for something that will never come, hm? Toil over a man that doesn’t want you?” Daemon questioned, his voice dropping to a sultry octave, a purr that raked across your spine. His hand began to gather your gown, bunching it up to allow him easier access.
“You — You vex me,” You whimpered, knowing that you were simply a rabbit trapped within the maw of a dragon, and perhaps, that was where you wanted to be. “You don’t want me.” It was a valiant attempt to talk yourself out of it, to convince yourself that you were unwanted.
Daemon peppered a string of hot kisses along your jaw, grabbing at your chin to tip your head back. “You don’t know what I want.” He murmured, his stare shadowed with lust. He kissed the side of your face, forehead briefly resting against yours as you considered the sin that you were about to commit.
It was liberating when you no longer thought of sin, and simply thought of your own needs and wants.
His unspoken pressure finally broke your carefully-constructed barrier, and you leaned upwards, rocking forward until you crashed into him. You dropped the candlestick, yet it made little noise. Your lips, soft and compliant, melded with his own — domineering and triumphant. Need blistered through, and he kissed you with such blazing passion.
You felt his other hand shamelessly move toward your neck, flexing underneath your jaw as he kissed you over and over again. You hadn’t experienced such passion before — and you never wanted it to end.
Daemon coaxed you closer, countenance one of sheer lust and possessiveness. His thumb traced across your lower lip, hand snug around your throat before he looked elsewhere. “Fucking is a pleasure, for a woman as it is a man,” He uttered, noticing the hitch in your throat. “I am certain your Lord Husband never bothered with it.”
Abashed, you shook your head, reveling in the sensation of his hand firmly kneading into your hip. “No, my Prince. He did not,” You paused, your hand finding its way to his chest, fingers curling into his tunic. “Would you show me?” It was a fine line, a perilous one — but you did not care, not anymore.
You hadn’t felt desire quite like this in your life — but you wanted it, more than anything else. The void within you, repression tangled up into a ball wound so tightly that it might explode — Daemon stoked the fire, and he seemed eager to let you come undone. You wanted Daemon.
In High Valyrian, he spoke one word. “Māzigon.” Come — Daemon’s hand slipped around yours, urging you away from the small Council chambers and into the depths of the Red Keep. Your trek led you to unfamiliar parts of the castle, some left untouched and unused.
The dust-laden doors led you to a small study, sparsely furnished, yet all Daemon truly needed was a surface wide enough to bear your body. There was a chaise lounge, with a thick direwolf’s hide serving as the rug in front of the darkened hearth. The remnants of an old, four-post bed sat off within the room somewhere, just as dour as the rest of the room.
No one would find you here.
Moonlight pooled through the two large windows, enough for you to see his porcelain, perfect features, tinged with silver. His platinum tresses turned to white, violet hues drinking you in with a ravenous hunger. Rapture and lust, a smoldering desire to make you give into him.
Daemon’s hands cupped either side of your neck, thumb pressing into the underside of your jaw at the other flicked against your lower lip. “Tepagon ezīmagon nyke,” He purred, towering over you as he dipped down, kissing along your jaw. “Take off your clothes.” His command was stern yet dripping with carnality.
If it weren’t for the sheer intensity of the moment, you might’ve become flustered, but instead, your hands flew toward the ribbons and ties of your gown. You shrugged the lace-laden shawl aside, allowing the garment to simply drop around your feet.
Your body was perfect — Daemon wanted it all for himself. If the Hand would not indulge in you, then he would. The Prince let out a low hum, admiring your silky flesh and delicate curves, hand skimming from the hollow of your throat to your breasts.
“For this to be hidden away for so long,” Daemon uttered, hand moving to greedily cup your breast. It elicited a sweet gasp from you, unexpected yet exhilarating. “Is a fucking crime.” He growled, and without another word, he moved to kiss you, like fire washing over you, all-consuming and devouring.
Instinct drove you as your hands clamored to the nape of his neck, tugging at the silken crown of pale tresses there. Daemon seemed pleased by this, teeth grazing along your lower lip before he bit down, eliciting a whine from you. He thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of you underneath his palm — as soft as velvet.
His tongue lapped across your lower lip, soothing the ache brought about by the sharp bite of his teeth. He kissed you hard, lips parted, the action warm and wet — he imagined tasting something else, head clouded with the unshakable haze of lust.
“Daemon,” You whimpered, abandoning all titles and formalities. He no longer referred to you as Lady Hightower — that wasn’t who you were anymore, not to him. One of your palms dropped to his chest, hesitantly fiddling with the ties of his tunic. “I want to see you.”
Perplexed, the Prince kissed your throat, head canting to one side. “Have you seen a man before, jorrāelagon?” He questioned, partially bemused yet curious to hear your answer. His affectionate High Valyrian caught your attention, causing a small tremor to roll along the base of your spine.
Sheepishly, you shook your head. Otto had never bothered to bear himself at all, and to some extent, you could understand — he was aging, and the attraction was most certainly slim. “No, I haven’t — but I’d like to.” You shivered when Daemon pulled you close, palm cupping your hip before it brazenly traveled to your haunch.
Any sliver of space between the two of you became nonexistent, replaced with heat and tension, bodies entangled into one. Your digits danced along the collar of his dragonscale tunic, imagining what strength and prowess rested beneath.
Instead, he peered at your wandering fingers, brows briefly lifting as if to encourage you. “Go on, then.” Daemon coaxed, his voice somewhat gravelly and pitched lower, interlaced with a burning desire. He watched with rapture as you slowly unfastened the ties and buckles of his tunic.
Daemon thought about being rough — grabbing your throat and fucking you into the lounge without a second thought, but he wanted to explore you. Your repression wasn’t your fault, and he felt some sense of triumph in fucking the wife of the Hand.
He shrugged his tunic aside, letting the garment fall to join the pool of lace and silk upon the floor. He was pale and well-muscled, a vision of perfection. Your hands began to glide across his broad shoulders, and then to his chest and abdomen.
Admittedly, Daemon savored the sensation of you touching him, exploring him — something about it was sickly sweet. “Have you touched yourself before, my Lady?” Daemon asked, pointed and unwilling to go without a direct answer.
Flustered, you nodded, seemingly embarrassed in regards to such actions. “Yes,” You exhaled, skin hot to the touch. “I know I shouldn’t have, but —“ Daemon stopped you with a kiss, hungry and needy, teeth nipping at your mouth with a subtle growl.
“Afraid that your Lord Husband will admonish you for it?” The Prince smirked, violet eyes glinting with a twinge of humor. Your expression reflected a whirlwind of emotions — from desire, lust, and embarrassment to a flicker of sadness and frustration. Daemon decided to leave it all alone and focus on you.
He coaxed you toward the plush velvet of the chaise lounge, sitting down with an unceremonious thud. Daemon was quick to collect you into his lap, all perfect and spread for him. A lustful silence filled the void between you both as he kissed your neck, calloused hands gripping the swell of your hips.
“Allow me to rectify your husband’s wrongs,” Daemon chided, kissing along the hollow of your throat, teeth sinking into your sensitive flesh. You moaned and whined, writhing atop him, chest pressed against his. “You are beautiful.” He said with such assurance, causing you to shudder.
Daemon’s ring-adorned hand snaked along the length of your body, finding the apex between your thighs, warm and slick with arousal. As soon as his thumb and forefinger slipped past your folds, you lurched forward, letting out a gasp of surprise.
The sensation was foreign yet pleasurable, like an electrifying jolt rolling down your spine. His mouth relentlessly assaulted your sweet flesh, leaving behind a myriad of bites and less than desirable markings. Your scent — a concoction of lavish perfumes and oils — invaded his senses like a thick haze.
His digits deliberately explored your cunt, every touch eliciting some strangled sound from you. You felt his fingers tease your entrance before sliding back towards your clit, flicking across that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your heart pounded within your chest, slamming against your breastbone like a drum.
“Daemon,” You moaned, back arching as you absentmindedly leaned into the Prince’s embrace. One of your palms molded itself to his bicep, the other continued to clutch at the nape of his neck. “Please, don’t stop!” With a needy whine, your hips rolled forward, attempting to gain a lick of friction. You wanted him to keep touching you there — forever, if he could.
His thumb languidly circled your clit, other digits sliding against your cunt. You squirmed and careened forward, insides hot as liquid warmth pooled between your thighs. It felt incredible — it was everything you’d ever wanted and more. Nothing could compare to the bliss that rolled through you.
The Prince continued with assailing your flesh, kissing his way across your collarbone, dipping low enough to find the perfect swell of your breasts. A low rumble resonated through Daemon’s chest, one of clear approval as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking on the hardened peak.
A strangled whimper escaped you, one of clear delight. You hadn’t experienced any of this before — you wanted more, as much as Daemon was willing to give you. You gasped when his teeth dragged across your breast, causing you to jolt forward.
Ensuring that you would be well tended-to, Daemon sank his fingers forward, vigorously tracing across your cunt as his thumb did a majority of the work. Ripples of bliss rolled across your body in waves, and you rocked forward enough to ride his hand.
“Daemon!” You moaned, feeling his mouth drift away from your chest to the hollow of your throat. His teeth were sudden and sharp, nipping and biting wherever he pleased, one hand steadying you atop his lap. The other began to snake towards your neck, calloused digits able to feel the pounding of your heartbeat.
You whimpered his name as if it were the only word you knew — and for as sinful as it felt, you found yourself abandoning all sense of care and propriety. Daemon made you feel incredible, in ways that you had merely dreamed of.
As Daemon traced two digits along your slick entrance, his lilac hues fell across your visage, searching for any signs of hesitation. You felt the brief pressure, one hand comfortably sitting at the nape of his neck, the other gripping at his shoulder.
Deliberately, he began to sink two fingers inside of you, watching as your countenance blossomed into a look of bliss and startlement. Daemon soothed your worry with a kiss, head canting to one side as to deepen it, and you followed, flesh crawling with warmth.
A soft, smothered moan escaped you as he gingerly eased both digits in and out of your tight cunt, enough to make you gasp. The sensation was foreign yet incredible, enough for you to rock forward, brow furrowed in concentration. Daemon continued to litter your neck in kisses and bites, hand groping the swell of your plush hips.
“There she is,” Daemon growled against the hollow of your throat, lips traveling upward until they collided against yours. It was a messy, hot kiss, one that made your stomach slosh with molten heat. “A woman deprived of pleasure.” He murmured, prompting you to kiss him again, needy and desperate.
Some sliver of you knew how wrong this was — the infidelity, the disloyalty to your Lord husband, the selfishness that weighed upon you — you should’ve been aghast. Yet, in the heat of the moment, you thought little of it, content to let Daemon Targaryen finger-fuck you into a blissful oblivion.
You were lost to your own ecstasy, thoroughly reveling in the myriad of sensations you were now getting to experience. “Daemon,” You sighed against his mouth, feeling his teeth briefly scrape across your lower lip. “I want more.” A groan escaped you as his digits began to still, thumb circling your clit.
As he slowly removed his fingers from your tight heat, Daemon brazenly groped at your breast, pale brows furrowing together as he began to untie the laces of his trousers. You steeled yourself, feeling a brief pang of anxiousness strike at your gut. You knew that it was supposed to hurt, and the very thought frightened you.
“More?” Daemon echoed, the shadow of lust dancing within his eyes as he deposited you onto the lounge, hands seizing your ankles as he dragged you to the precipice. Without pause, he sank to his knees, broad and beautiful between your legs as he kissed your thigh. “You’ll have to beg me for it.”
You exhaled, sharp and excitable as your hand fell to the edge of the chaise lounge, nails digging into the wood and velvet. “Please,” You whispered, shifting atop the cushion as Daemon bit at your soft flesh. “Please, Daemon!” The sound that left you was pathetic — simpering, even.
He enjoyed hearing you whine — it was a stark reminder of what Otto Hightower could never have. Daemon’s mouth maintained the barest hint of a smirk, pressing a string of kisses toward the warmth between your legs. You were silk and saccharine beneath his fingertips, feverishly warm.
The first stroke of his tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, a sensation that set you ablaze. Whimpers turned to ash within your throat, flesh unnaturally hot — you melted beneath Daemon, and that was exactly what he wanted.
A shiver coursed down your spine, hips canting forward toward Daemon’s mouth. His breath was hot, warm wisps of air fanning out across your slit. It was heavenly — you nearly forgot yourself, moaning his name as you fisted the cushions on either side of you.
His hum was satisfactory, tongue dancing along your weeping core, drinking you in like a fine wine. The cool, silver bite of his ring dug into your hips, his grip ironclad, enough to leave bruises behind.
If Daemon had it his way, he would bruise you again — in the light of day, able to see his marks etched into your flesh, knowing that they were his creation. Possessiveness swelled within him, an ugly and festering thing — he wanted you terribly.
Pleasure rippled through you, consuming every fiber of your being. Daemon’s mouth found your clit, suckling at the clutch of fiery nerves. You gasped, nails digging into your palm, thighs attempting to rub together, kept apart by the Prince’s broad shoulders.
“Daemon,” You moaned, your jaw falling slack as you rolled forward into his maw. A soft huff escaped you as his tongue caressed your cunt, returning to assail your clit again. It was bliss overwhelming, prompting you to reach for his shoulders. “Daemon!”
Tension furled within the pit of your stomach, a familiar knot of ecstasy that brought you closer to the edge. Daemon’s mouth sluggishly receded, peppering kisses and love bites along your inner thighs. He licked his lower lip, violet hues threatening to burn through you.
Your chest rose and fell with the throes of excitement, skin prickling with anticipation. Daemon kissed your hip, moving to stand between your legs. He loomed over you, physique eclipsing all inklings of firelight — a shadow of desire.
He stepped back toward the mound of furs, silently gesturing for you to follow. “Lie down.” Daemon purred, his voice more of a lascivious command instead of a question. With a simple pull, he loosened the strings of his smallclothes, gaze hooded.
A whimper nearly erupted from your throat, never coming to fruition as you stood from the lounge, following Daemon’s lead. You slipped down onto the furs, with only the moonlight as your guide. Your legs parted for him, expectant and waiting.
The loss of one’s maidenhead was often rumored to be an intense and bloody affair — it no longer frightened you like it used to. Daemon stepped out of his leather trousers, bare and statuesque before you, a porcelain god come to claim you.
Moonlight bathed his flesh in a sea of silver, pale rays dancing across his ivory complexion. There was something calculating and predatory in the way he moved, a confidence that few possessed. He sank down, crawling between your legs as he reached your mouth.
Lips clashed again, a dance of desire as the head of his cock brazenly brushed along your slick cunt. Daemon was sizable, to be sure, a man with a plethora of experience. You shuddered when he planted a hand beside your head, the other gripping your hip.
Again, the head of his length threatened to split past your folds, oozing with tendrils of precum as he kissed you once more. It was ravenous, with all the ferocity and vigor of a dragon as he prepared to rock his hips forward. His broad physique kept you spread apart, molten heat churning within your belly.
Daemon finally snapped his hips forward, cock sheathing itself inside of you with little resistance. You gasped, the intrusion somewhat painful and discomforting at first, but he made sure to distract you, pressing hot kisses along your neck. He wasn’t gentle, leaving behind evidence of his affections in the form of flourishing marks.
His cock bullied its way into your cunt, stretching you in new ways, a different sensation from his fingers or yours. Daemon grunted, a huff escaping him as he allowed you a moment to adjust, grow used to the feeling.
Your countenance blossomed with pleasure, gaze a touch smoldering as you found Daemon’s visage. Those violet hues continued to devour you, a visual delight to the Rogue Prince as he fucked you. It wasn’t as rough as he typically was, opting to spare you from the brunt of his usual debauchery.
He found a rhythm, each movement succinct and sharp, hips driving forward as his cock buried itself within you with each thrust. You moaned, feeling the occasional dull ache of pain as you surrendered your virtue to Daemon, nails digging haplessly into the muscle of his shoulders.
Part of you forgot about decency and honor, trampling it into the dirt as Daemon speared you with his length. Friction grew between the both of you, flesh against flesh, perspiration building along your brow. Heat openly oozed between you, cunt slick with arousal.
The angry lines of your eager nails raked over Daemon’s shoulders, the remnants of your sin. He seemed to be savoring your roughness, throat reverberating with a myriad of grunts and softer, subtle groans.
“Turn over.” Daemon huffed, able to detect a flicker of confusion within your gaze. Admittedly, seeing your pretty face contort into one of bliss as he fucked you was rather enticing, but he was chasing after his release.
Silent, you did as he asked, turning over onto your stomach. Something about the newfound position made you shiver with anticipation, and you gasped as Daemon grabbed your hips. He lifted half of you from the furs, hips pressing into the swell of your backside.
He guided his cock back to your slit, thrusting inside of you as he assumed a quick, needy pace. Daemon’s palms squeezed at your hips, layering over the already-formed bruises from earlier endeavors. He split you asunder; a clash of lewd noises filled the room, accompanied by your intermingled sighs of passion.
You moaned, hands scraping across the direwolf hide beneath you, gripping at the furs as Daemon plunged himself into you. His motions were repetitive, intensifying in their erratic pace as he grunted. You were perfect — the noises that emerged from you only served to encourage him, unbeknownst to you.
Liquid heat oozed between your thighs, arousal spilling onto Daemon’s cock. You were teetering along the brink of a blissful oblivion, feeling your pleasure mount. Daemon’s hand slithered between your legs, thumb rolling over your clit to give you some stimulation.
It was as if the dam had shattered, consumed by the squall of lust as you whimpered. A myriad of wanton sounds escaped you, followed by a rush of warmth that surged to your cunt. Daemon growled, feeling your slit tighten around him, your release an incredible one.
Daemon followed suit, painting your insides with his milt — a dangerous game, but one that he enjoyed playing. He removed himself halfway through, coating your thighs and cunt in ropes of his seed, enough for you to feel the heat of it.
He huffed, noticing the faint trembling of your thighs, rattling like leaves as you attempted to recuperate. You had little time for composure, knowing that you needed to return to the Tower of the Hand before your Lord husband emerged from his council meeting.
The Prince did not adopt your swiftness, watching with a tempestuous stare as you retrieved your clothing, flesh sparkling with perspiration. You did not want to leave, but you feared discovery — you feared what would happen if Otto were to find out about such nocturnal proclivities.
“Going somewhere?” Daemon questioned, knowing fully well what the answer would be. He happened to redress himself in his smallclothes, observing you with the ghost of a smirk.
“I must return to the Tower of the Hand,” You mumbled, slick between your legs. The combination of Daemon’s spent and your arousal proved to be sticky and uncomfortable, but you would endure the walk and clean yourself up as soon as you could. “I cannot be seen.”
Daemon scoffed, dismissive of your concerns, though he allowed you the courtesy of dressing and preparing to depart. “Still worried for your husband,” He mused, stepping forward to caress your cheek. “How sweet.” It was cajoling, but you cared little.
“Daemon,” You began, but he stopped you with a kiss, eyes twinkling with a semblance of mirth. He held your face between his calloused palms, thumbs gingerly gliding along your cheekbones. “I do not … I do not know when I can see you again.”
A bemused hum escaped him as he cocked his head to one side, feeling your palm press flat atop his muscled chest. “Already thinking of the next time, my Lady?” He purred, pressing a kiss against your jaw. “Perhaps, when next we meet, it will be at the Dragonpit.”
It was far away from prying eyes — what better place to let feelings run hot than the seat of dragonkind at King’s Landing? Even then, Daemon knew that any future trysts would be difficult to achieve, if they were to continue.
You kissed him — a sweet gesture, one that was chaste and ladylike. Daemon could not allow something so brief, seizing your chin to kiss you again. Your head was spinning with so many things, to the point of feeling so very overwhelmed.
“I have to go.” You whispered, squeezing Daemon’s forearm as you passed. Your state of dress was somewhat uncouth, but you had no time. You made sure to keep quiet as you slipped into the gap between doors, stealing another look back at the Rogue Prince.
Violet hues remained indiscernible, though his expression was telling — the very same incendiary look he’d given you at the Tournament. “Until next we meet, Lady Hightower.”
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@ copyright — all works belong to swordgrace, please do not copy or translate this work onto any other platforms or accounts.
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matriarchjojo · 7 months ago
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" HOT MODEL SEX. " | BONTEN VERSION
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starring! : mikey, sanzu, ran, rindō, kakucho, koko, takeomi
warnings! : 18+, actual corruption, reader smokes, petnames (good girl), drunk sex, anal sex, oral, really long
a/n! : This is an alternative to the first model!reader fic, this time with bonten (there's also gonna be a part two of this one)
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The guys did a lot of things
Drugs, murder, theft, gambling, more drugs and
Going to fashion shows.
It's mostly just to wind down and be social..plus the men are fashionable, it's just a thing that comes with being born in Tokyo. It became a ritual, whenever one of their favorite designers did a show and there was nothing important to do that other people couldn't do, they would check it out.
They'd sit in the front while photographers huddled the very front of the stage.
The haitanis and koko enjoyed these shows the most, especially the Versace, dior and dolce shows. Before every show started, they'd look through the small brochure they'd give out, showing the clothes and, of course, the models.
There was this one beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, elegant, fierce model that caught their eye everytime. They've seen her already many, many times, and that model was you.
Your legs, your walk, your hips, and your face. Your very presence made these cold men feel something again, admiration.
Sanzu was high as fuck at all the shows, having just done a few lines in the bathroom but no matter how dazed he was, he'd always took notice of you..being high made you somehow even more ethereal. You looked like an angel, like a holy vision.
"Oh..she's here again," Ran mentioned, reading the brochure, staring at the picture and tilting the thin pages to show his brother, rin immediately smiled before taking a drag of his cigarette.
The anticipation of you arriving on the runway was like foreplay, but when you appeared in skimpy clothes, showing off that sexy body of yours, walking with purpose and confidence made these men horny. Even mikey, he just liked that menacing aura around you, especially when you wore that heavy smokey cat eye that made your eyes look like daggers, ready to kill.
The men would notice the looks you'd give them, and only them. Sometimes, even sly and sexy smirks when you wouldn't be dead focused on the way in front of you. You recognized the men, of course you did. It's hard not to notice them. They were admittedly flashy and attractive men. You had no idea what horrible and dangerous men they actually were, though..
One fateful after party with your co worker's and fellow models, drinking champagne in a tight black mini dress, you spotted the men from the show at a table, smoking and drinking. Eyes set on you.
With your mind a little buzzed and feeling extra sexy, you thought you might excuse yourself and go outside for a smoke, but not before walking past their table and smiling at the two lilac haired men.
You were standing outside on your Louboutins, feeling the cold night air hit your hot skin. You heard the door open and sure enough..
It was the two men.
they were walking right up to you. as you put your cig between your glossy lips, they both held up lighters next to you. You eyed them up and felt a shiver up your spine. You smirked and leaned forward to let one of them light your cigarette.
"The show was fabulous tonight.." the taller one said before holding out his hand. "Ran." He introduced. "Rindou," the other followed.
A smirk crept up on your lips again before blowing smoke out of your lungs and you continued to tell the men your own name
"We know." Rindou said, with his hand and cigarette covering his mouth.
Not long after the little meeting, you went back inside and met the other men since the brothers invited you to the table.
As you all talked, you felt how the white hot stares of the men made you sweat and feel their lust radiating. You felt high, exchanging lustful looks with each of the men..
Koko was particularly interesting to you, the way he carried himself and his slightly feminine demeanor made you attracted to him.
Kakucho had that boyish and shy charm to him, takeomi was a hot older man and sanzu seemed like he'd be a crazy fuck.
You'd die to get tag teamed by the brothers.
Mikey had that mysterious and melancholic aura to him.
They were all sexy and you'd let yourself get whored out by them. You'd definitely meet these men again..
Luckily, the brothers gave you their numbers, saying, "Come by our Penthouse sometime, yeah?" Making you smile as you saw they already gave you the address. "We'll see.." you said teasingly before getting up and walking back to your friends.
One of your friends and Japanese model, sachiko, came up to you with a concerned look on her face. "Did you just talk with those men?" She asked, flipping her long black and shiny hair back.
"Yeah, why?" You asked with a raised eyebrow
She softly grabbed you by the shoulder, turning you around so the men were out of sight. "You don't know who they are?" She whispered, you shook your head and let out a quick laugh, "No, but I'm trying to" you responded, jokingly.
"You should stay away from them, I'm telling you..they're dangerous."
You just laughed again, thinking she was joking, or trying to get you away from some kind of players. but she didn't seem to smile or change her worried look. She was serious.
"I'll be careful." You smiled. Trying to calm her.
Sachiko let go of your shoulder. She didn't look like your words calmed her, but she knew you're an adult woman and could take care of yourself..
She couldn't do more than warn you and hope you listen to her words.
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A week afterwards, all the shows were done and you found the little note from the hot guys.
You were just done showering and took your phone out, it was 20:30.
You don't have anything to do right now, and you don't wanna sleep yet, so..
Maybe you'll be a little bitch and just show up without a warning..but no, for the first actual meeting you should call beforehand.
You picked up your phone and typed the number in. For the first time in years, you felt nervous to call someone..you felt like you were 14 again and you're about to call your high-school crush. It felt nice to feel like that again, but your hands were slightly shaking when you heard the phone ringing, waiting for someone to pick it up. Your heart raced and your body tensed up
"..yeah?" rindou picked up, and he sounded out of breath and his voice echoed
"Rindou, right?" You confirmed, and he went quiet for a second before he sensually chuckled
"Y'know, in Japan, if you don't know someone that well, you use their last name.." he smugly corrected you
You grinned. "Right, I'm sorry, Mr.Haitani." he went quiet again before-
"Good girl,"
Your body tensed up, and your blood ran hot. "How come you're calling so late?"
"You mentioned that you and your brother owned a club, I just wanted to know which one it was"
Not long after that call you dried your hair, did your makeup and picked out a sexy I.am.gia black mini dress with some miumiu heels. you grabbed your dior saddle bag and put on your jewlery as you adored yourself in the mirror, striked poses and kissed the mirror before you grabbed your keys and happily went out.
you hailed a cab and told the taxi driver to drive you to roppongi at the haitani club, the man then side eyed you and asked what a woman like you wanted at a club like that, you just laughed and didnt answer.
truly you didnt wanna know why every person was so on the fence about these people, you just wanted to have fun and maybe get some dick.
once the man dropped you off, you thanked him and handed him the money, as you stepped out he said "hey, be careful." before he drove off again.
as you set your eyes on the club, the building was gigantic, booming with music and bright flurescent purple lights. there was a line of people in front of the entrance. You did not have the nerve to wait THAT long to get into a club you didn't even know was worth the hassle.
but thankfully, a man with a lilac mullet and a cig in his mouth stepped out of the vip entrance. It was rindou. your eyes met, and his immediately widened as he choked on his cigarette smoke. He waved you over to him, and you skipped to him on your pretty heels, clacking against the smooth concrete.
he hugged you as a greeting and you smiled
"You.." he chuckled, slightly embarrassed biting his bottom lip."You look amazing." he complimented, eying you up and down as if he was ready to just pull you into the club and eat you up
..or out.
he looked at the bouncer and grabbed your hand. "She's with us," he mentioned, to which he nodded. "Yes, sir"
rin motioned his head for you to head inside with a playful smirk while he kept holding your hand.
the music inside was even louder than you expected, the second you looked around you saw multiple hot people dancing, drinking and making out.
rin led you to a glass staircase with a tall man standing in front of it, but he stepped aside as soon as rindou walked up to him. you looked at rin. Obviously, he's one of the owners. Of course, he's gonna be let through. the two of you reached the top of the staircase and saw couches with glass tables in front of them
people were also drinking, and women were dancing, but some people were also doing cocaine. rindou just put his hand on your shoulder as you approached the table where his brother was sitting. he stood up when he saw you to hug you. "heyy, god, you look gorgeous.." he said with both his hands on your hips. "Come sit with us." You did as he asked and sat down on the white couch, crossing your legs.
rindou sat down next to you just like his brother, so now you were sandwiched between two hot men in business suits that wore beautiful smelling perfume. "whatdya wanna drink?" the younger brother asked, showing you the drink menu.
you ordered some rosé and the two just ordered the same. once the three of you were a little tipsy, you got handsy, and both of the brothers had their hands on either your lower back or thighs, close to being under your mini dress.
you also kissed them multiple times with tongue, rindou took the bottle and held it to your mouth, letting you drink, watching some of the alcohol spill from your mouth down between the valley of your tits. you giggled and kissed him afterwards. He softly groaned into the kiss as you suddenly felt rans lips against your neck, sucking harshly, trying to get your attention again. you looked back at him with a smile, he was pouting "dont forget about mee" he complained playfully before grabbing your hot and flushed face to press his wet lips against your own, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth, seeking your own. rindou rolled his eyes. " You've been hoarding her all for yourself the whole time." ran, broke the kiss, and looked at you, "then let's just ask her who she wants to go home with"
you bit your bottom lip and swiped some of your hair from your face. "dont be mad if i ask this.." You began, and the brothers just stared at you in expectation as their ringed hands grabbed at your soft thighs, feeling burning cold against your hot skin. "Can i go with both of you?" their eyes widened, they didnt expect you to ask that, but they weren't mad, far from it, actually.
"i mean, we've never actually shared a girl before, but.." ran began and kissed behind your ear. "we'll be happy to have you being our first..right, rin?" he asked his brother, to which his hand turned your head to look at him. "i don't mind that.." he said softly against your glossy lips before kissing you.
the three of you stumbled out of the club and the flashing lights of cameras suddenly blinded you, you rolled your eyes as they yelled your name, you had no idea how the fuck the stalkerrazzi even found you. "You're so populaaar," ran drunkenly hummed, just continuing to drag you along. you just rolled your eyes again, shielding your eyes from the lights. There's nothing you hated more than these fuckers..
suddenly, in your drunken mind you had an idea that you were probably gonna regret in the morning.
so you just suddenly grabbed rin by his tie to aggressively make out with him as your other hand grabbed at rans crotch, you love to shock the paparazzi, you know they wont leave you alone, so you can at least make them uncomfortable while you tongue fuck this hot and apperantly controversial guy and grabbing the cock of an also controversial man
you broke the kiss and looked back at the cameras, holding your middle finger up with a big smile, putting on your dior shades, rin just stuck out his tongue as his brother did the same,
ran dragged you back to their black Bentley, you then pulled both of the men into the back of the car, the flashing lights following you to the car and you just sat yourself down into ran's lap as you kept kissing rindou, swinging one of your legs across his lap. the driver hesitantly asked. "..wh-where to, sir?" rin tore himself away from your enchanting lips "home."
you bareley remember the drive home, all you remember was having rins cock on your mouth and rans slim but long fingers in your wet cunt. And you remember when you two were in their bedroom you were completely naked except for your heels, getting pounded in the ass and having another hard cock in your throat, ran was in the front and rindou was in the back, you whimpered and whined as you felt their long and hot cocks filling you to the brim, you faintly heard their heavy breathing and little compliments that made you drool on rans cock even more.
"You're so good- so fucking good," ran huffed before letting out a gutteral moan, moving his hips into your face, looking down at you with his hand softly settled in your beautiful hair.
"Her fucking ass is so tight-" rindou groaned lowly before giving you a firm smack on the ass, while his other hand held your hips in a tight grip. "You've never done anal before, did you?" He asked, out of breath.
Ran pulled his dick out of your glossy mouth for you to answer, but your hand kept stroking him "no.." you paused to moan but it feels fucking good.." you mewled, biting your bottom lip, smearing your lip liner even more.
Rindou grinned down at you and huffed out a small chuckle "I can tell, baby" he said "can feel how wet your pussy is" he said before continuing to pound into you
Ran smiled down at you and took your hand "your pussy needs some attention too, huh?" He smacked his lips as if he was pitying you "my selfish brother completely ignored your pretty clit.." Ran helped you up and rindou immediately took your arms into his rough hands, his cold metal rings burning your scorching hot skin.
The older brother got in front of you to lift your leg and put it around his waist, aligning his cock with your pussy.
You thought you'd finally get to cum soon but then he slid the tip of his cock through your wet cunt and circle your clit with it "your gasps when it hits your clit are so cute" he teased.
You bit your lip even harder, not even caring if you're gonna bruise it or draw blood. You just wanted his cock, you never wanted anything more.
"Please ran--" "ah-ah" rindou interrupted you. "Remember what I told you about formality?" You let out a frustrated moan, throwing your head back feeling rindous fat cock breaking you in, almost feeling him in your guts. "Please, Mr.Haitani..fuck me stupid, sir"
That was all you remember when you woke up in-between the two gorgeous men, their arms over you under the soft blanket. As comfortable as you were, you had a splitting headache and aching legs. you planned on getting up but you saw your phone light up on the bedside table behind rindou, you reached over him carefully to not wake him.
Once you read the messages you almost jumped up and screamed in anger and embarrassment.
Last night events with the paparazzi went viral and everyone was texting you about it, your friends were just cheering for you but the news sites were shocked about the "alleged mob members hanging out with supermodel"
Alleged mob members??
You looked at the sleeping men next to you and froze up, it felt like time stopped. You sat there for ten minutes before continuing to read the articles your friends sent you, you looked so fucked up in those pictures, still hot but...fucked up.
Surprisingly, you didn't care that much about them being part of a criminal organization, you were just shocked that no one told you up front.
You carefully got up, put on your bra and panties before getting out of the room to get yourself a glass of water to sober up a bit, then raid their bathroom cabinet for some painkillers.
Your arms, thighs and ass hurt like hell. You got to the kitchen and immediately filled a glass with water, you chugged it down and filled it up again.
As you drank your second glass you heard footsteps, probably woke one of them up as you climbed over them.
You suddenly choked on your water when three of the other guys you met walked around the corner, seeing you almost naked, messy hair and messed up makeup. It was koko, takeomi and kakucho.
They stopped in their tracks, trying and failing not to look you up and down
"Fuck- sorry I didn't know- I thought this was the brothers' place" you tried to explain, wiping the spilled water from your chin
Kakucho looked down at the floor while shaking his head "don't apologize, we're sorry we didn't know you were still here.."
"Still here?" You asked, placing the glass down on the white marble counter
Takeomi chuckled. "You guys weren't exactly quiet.." kakucho awkwardly coughed. He was so cute..you'd suck him off right here, even with your sore throat. "uh..do you want some painkillers?" Kaku asked politely, still making eye contact with the floor.
You smiled "yes, thank you.." kakucho nodded and walked away, he expected you to wait there for him to come back but you followed him, you noticed his eyes quickly flicking yo you every now and then.
You leaned against the sink once you two reached the bathroom, your hips right next to his face, you looked down at him and he looked up at you after he tried to find some painkillers, he tried to look back down but you kept his head up by his chin, making him gulp heavily and keep his eyes fixed on you this time
He was immediately hard and he didn't know why, nothing happened..yet.
But It didn't take long, or many words
For him to have your cunt on his mouth and your gorgeous legs on his shoulders, he didn't seem like it, but the way he was moving his tongue now made up for the little words you exchanged, and before you knew it you were cumming in a shaking frenzy, moaning and biting your fingers to keep quiet. Your fingers in his pretty and smooth ebony hair, feeling his heavy breath on your mound while grinding back on his face.
Once you came back, you were wobbly on your legs, but held onto kakus strong arm for leverage. You leaned over to him "maybe next time we'll have more time to do more" you whispered before kissing his cheek.
You turned the corner and more men were there. The brothers, sanzu and mikey..
"There's the one that got away" Ran said taking a drag of his cigarette while rindou just looked you up and down while drinking some type of alcohol, in the morning.
His eyes told you that he was ready to go for another 4 rounds.
Sanzu stared at you intensely before speaking up "next time you guys hold a whole ass concert, I better be invited" rindou furrowed his eyebrows, looking like he was ready to vomit
"In your dreams, coke-head" Ran responded, reading the newspaper with crossed legs
You chuckled and sexily turned on your heels to walk back into the brothers' bedroom to get your clothes before heading back out, "let's party sometime again, huh?" You smiled, looking at the brothers, then sanzu..you don't know why but he seemed like fun to party with.
And lucky you, he stood up and walked after you, "let me drive you, it's pretty cold out and..you're not dressed for the weather" you chuckled and rolled your eyes "lead the way then.."
Surprisingly he didn't try to hit on you, the drive home..which disappointed you a bit. But when you saw your hotel you grabbed his shoulder and said "you can stop here" the pink haired man stopped his luxury car and got out before you to open your car door, what a gentleman.
"Ugh, you know what's crazy?" You asked him to which he grinned and tilted his head "what?"
"I'm already ready to party again.." you giggled to which he got a smug grin on his face "that's because those two snobs don't know shit about partying right."
You turned your head to him and smiled curiously "and you do?" He nodded and reached into his pocket, giving you a card with his number
"Call me when you're ready to party for real" you took the card with your index and middle finger, you grinned getting closer to him and give him a soft kiss on the cheek.
1K notes · View notes
angelicyouth · 9 months ago
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Proscenium
⇢ pairing(s): multiple x newkid!reader
⇢ genre: identity reveal ; the stick of truth + the fractured but whole AU
⇢ synopsis: ❝The beginning of the new school year reveals to your friends that you were never a boy like they've always believed you to be, but a girl—and that you have been one the entire time that you've known them.❞
⇢ warning: recreational drug use
⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist]
⇢ note: this picks up years after the two video games that this AU takes place in (the flashbacks in this story are canon to the games) but can be read with no prior knowledge of them! :)
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At thirteen years old, hormones slowly crept up into one’s life until puberty suddenly hit everyone all at once and all too fast. It was in the 8th grade that everyone came back from summer vacation different—what was once baby fat and ambiguous soft edges turned into more defined features and deeper voices. The appearance of girls altered in a way that could only be described as more developed, filling out in areas that they just didn’t used to.
Mr. Garrison decided that with this fresh transition into the beginning of their teenage years, that it would be a swell idea to teach his students about the notion of responsibility and of all the things that encompass it. This led to everyone sitting on the well-worn yet soft material of the fabric that adorns the chairs in the theater belonging to the town’s local middle school.
“Class, settle down now. I want all of you to know that before we begin, each and every one of you are talented. It may not be catered for the skills needed to succeed in theater, like singing or dancing. But don’t be ashamed of trying your best because I’ll find a job for every single one of you. Costume design, stagehand, the set—they’re just as important as the actors, you hear me?” The older man says in reassurance at his heightened stance on the wooden stage, looking at the sea of students that had varying degrees of uncertainty and excitement on their faces.
With these tentative first steps into their young adulthood, everyone was feeling lingering traces of insecurity and confusion. It was the start of the years where the children of South Park were trying to explore themselves as individuals—trying to find out who they are and where they truly belonged. 
As such, it was also the time where they often felt too ‘cool’ to try hard in order to fit in with the rest of their peers. Everyone just wanted to belong, to not be labeled as an outcast. This was driven by certain people being naturally blessed by mother nature, their hormones making them conventionally attractive whereas some were struggling with artificial things for societal standards such as the condition of their skin or the metal bulk of their braces. 
It was the awkward stage of life where people were more self conscious, more self aware of how they looked and how they spoke—who they hung out with and what their interests were. This was the beginning of when people started paying closer attention to their sexuality, to the genders of the members that each person found themselves attracted to. 
It was also the beginning of when the boys started paying closer attention to Y/N L/N.
See, you had always hung out with the boys, often forgoing the likes of Wendy Testaburger or Bebe Stevens. Not because you didn’t like the group of girls in class (because they were still your dear friends, never forgetting to extend a personal invite to you for lunch on the weekends or to trips to the mall), but more so because the guys had claimed you first. They’re all you’ve ever known since the fourth grade—from when you were still the new kid to now, they’ve always been a constant presence both during school and after. 
You were there when the boys decided to dedicate their free time to live action role-playing games, like superheroes or fantasy. During the nights that were spent finding scrap fabric to put together and painting props for when they donned their multicolored costumes and created super aliases. Or when the Kingdom of Kupa Keep was at war with The Elves for the wooden relic that once possessed the control of the whole entire universe.
The thing was, living in a mountain town like South Park meant that people typically adorned multiple, thick layers of material to help insulate themselves against the freezing temperatures. You, of course, weren’t an exception to the weather as you didn’t grow up here like the rest of your friends, which meant that you always kept either your hood up or wore a hat to keep yourself warm.
Granted, you didn’t find out until later on that your parents were actively trying to hide your identity from the government, but this inadvertently assisted in everyone misgendering you. It also didn’t help that you were silent in nature and therefore never bothered to correct anyone, but on the other hand, this earned you the fond nickname of ‘Douchebag’ and the boys never quite realizing that you were not a boy, but a girl.
・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑
You were late for the first day of the school year, rushing to rip off all of the paper tags attached to the new clothing your mother bought for you when she realized how quickly you outgrew your wardrobe during the summer. Unsteadily hopping around on one foot with a toothbrush wedged into your mouth, you finally got a leg through the soft material of the skirt that you were going to wear for the day. 
Discreetly trying to open the heavy double doors leading to the school’s auditorium proves to be futile as everyone casts their bored eyes towards the disturbance at the back of the room. Keeping your head lowered in an attempt to stay hidden, your legs rush to bring your body to where your group of friends were sitting.
“Uh, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Cartman arrogantly calls out when your body lands onto an unoccupied seat near him, your eyes rolling as you lay your backpack on the floor beside your feet.
“Aye! I’m fucking talking to you!” The larger teen yells in indignation when you continue to ignore him, his face heating up in anger when the guys begin to snicker behind their hands.
Heaving his body up, Cartman leans closer to you to roughly yank the hood off of your head to identify the current bane of his existence. This, however, leads him to be swept in confusion as the rest of the guys similarly halt their vocal amusement. “Who the fuck..?”
“Y/N—are you here? You’re up next to audition.” Garrison calls out, the boys quickly whipping their heads when they see you haul your form up to begin your ascent to the stage.
“What the fuck are you doing?! N/N’s not some lame pussy bitch!”
A tired sigh resounds from the older teacher’s mouth because it was way too early to be dealing with this shit. “Eric, Y/N has been a girl for the past four years that she’s been living in South Park. Nothing has changed except for your attention to details.”
“Wh—no he isn’t!” He sputters.
The guys stare at you in varying levels of disbelief and confusion, watching as you tuck visibly soft strands of hair behind your ear while Mr. Garrison passes you a script. Not only are you wearing a damn skirt (which the boys greedily eye as they showcase your long and smooth legs), but your jacket is unzipped for the first time that they’ve met you (in your haste to get ready, your scrambled brain forgot to properly zip it all the way up).
Due to this, they could see the way that the fabric of your top hugs your developing curves in all of the right places—cinching the delicate slopes of your waist and allowing them to see the growing but still notable bust that your outerwear has never revealed. It is then that their admittedly slow brains catches them up on the long lashes that gently kisses the red skin of your still cold cheeks everytime that you blink and how under the fluorescents of the stage lights, the pretty pink of your plump lips are further accentuated to slicked perfection.
“... Douchebag..?” Butters hesitatingly calls out, his voice meek in the sudden revelation of information on their long-time friend.
Busy reading the ink running along the script within your hands, the boys become shocked to muteness when your head lifts up in attention to the sound of your nickname. Your head tilts to the side in question when no one speaks, your disinterested eyes patiently waiting for the verbal reason that they called you. 
“No fucking way.” They all seem to chorus because…
… When in the hell did the notoriously mute member of their group become so hot?
・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑
“I call dibs!” Clyde yells out as soon as the boys step just one foot onto the cold linoleum that covers the hallway’s floors when the last class before the lunch period is dismissed.
“Wh—you can’t fucking do that!” Kenny indignantly cries out, the blonde angrily pushing his parka’s hood back so that he can properly argue. 
“Yeah, I can! Wanna know why?” The brunette smugly continues, his arms crossed in self satisfaction for speaking up first as all the guys glare at him.
“Well, I’m super handsome and insanely funny! I play sports so my hot bod is just as amazing as my smile and I’m clearly so generous and kind and nice since I’m giving you assholes multiple reasons instead of one!” He childishly finishes off, a cheeky grin stretching wide on his face even as Kenny grabs him by the collars of his letterman jacket to roughly slam him against the metal surface of the nearest locker.
“What?!” The blonde screams into his face in frustration.
“That’s fucking lame, dude. If you think N/N is going to settle for some shallow, narcissistic asshole then there’s no point of claiming her first.” Stan angrily spits out, the skin in between his eyebrows furrowed and his fingers fidgeting with the spark wheel of his lighter as he lazily leans beside where Clyde and Kenny are trying to throttle each other.
“Says the self proclaimed rizzler who gets an upset twummy wummy when a cute girl so much as looks in your direction, barf breath.” Kenny mocks in a baby voice, the blonde halting in his attempted murder as his brunette victim begins to obnoxiously laugh at his quip.
“Oh gee fellas… Well if it’s first come first serve, then I guess I’ll be getting this one. See ya!” Butters quickly tries to walk away from the group before Craig grabs him by the neckline of his sweater, effectively choking the blonde until he stops.
“And how the hell does that make any sense?” The taller ravenette asks, an eyebrow condescendingly quirked up and his fist unwillingly to let go lest the blonde tries to pull a fast one again.
“Wuh—well because! I’m the first person that met her, don’tcha fellers remember? I was the one to bring her to Kupa Keep when she first moved in so I’m her oldest and dearest buddy!” Everyone stops walking as they display unamused looks on their faces at the explanation, causing the captured teen to nervously rub his knuckles together at their joined silence. 
Kyle rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, “Yeah—by like, 5 minutes! And I don’t think you should be proud of that encounter because you were getting your ass handed to you when she met you.”
“And what’s wrong with that? N/N is strong and fearless and kind—why, she’s simply a bajillion times more noble for rescuing me when she didn’t even know me! That’s more than you fellas with your constant teasing, and you’ve all known me since we were babies!” The blonde pouts as he soothingly rubs the front of his now tender neck when Craig finally lets go.
Cartman deeply sighs, bringing a hand up to smooth the crease in between his eyebrows. “Just shut the fuck up, Butters. Y/N’s not here for you to suck her apparently non-existent dick, you fucking kiss ass.”
“You guys are acting like a bunch of stupid virgins.” Craig is expressionless as they reach the back of the school where the loading bay is, the chullo-wearing teen leaning against the wall as he leisurely watches Kenny plop down on the asphalt and pull a bong out of his backpack.
“Says you! Why do you even care?! I thought you liked it up the ass, you goddamn cocksucker!” Cartman is quick to yell, shoving both his hands in his jacket’s pockets to generate more warmth against the freezing Colorado air.
“Nyah! We like girls, t-too!” Tweek says, glancing at his ex-boyfriend as the ravenette flashes a vulgar middle finger that he annoyingly sticks into the larger teen's irritated face.
“Now that’s just fucking greedy.” The brunette scoffs, roughly pushing Craig’s arm away as the ravenette savagely snickers.
“That’s rich coming from the selfish fatass who can eat three times his weight in one sitting. Wouldn’t want N/N to suffocate on a date with you when you can’t see her over your huge fucking double chin and accidentally sit on her.” Kyle snarks as he rolls his eyes while Stan wheezes and mimics having a makeshift double chin by angling his head as low as it can against his collarbones to make the skin bulge.
Cartman loudly retorts as he roughly pushes away the ravenette’s laughing face, “It’s funny you say that when you have a fat bitch mom yourself, Kahl! Tell me: did she keep pushing even when you were already out of her gaping pussy because she couldn’t see you over her saggy fucking tits?!”
“All of you are greedy assholes! You guys can’t be good bros just this once and let me have this one?” Clyde pouts, the brunette sliding his back down against the wall until he’s seated on top of the gritty surface of his skateboard.
“No.” Everyone simultaneously deadpans.
“Blah blah blah—okay, now who wants to say grace before I light this baby up?” Kenny smirks up at the guys as he packs a bowl, Stan snorting a laugh as he pushes the blonde on the arm when he hands him his lighter.
“You know, it doesn’t really matter who calls dibs when it’s Y/N who gets to decide who she wants to be with. You can’t force her into anything just because we’ve found out that she’s been a girl this whole entire time. She’s not an object for us to claim.” Kyle resolutely states when it doesn’t seem like a decision will be (peacefully) made, causing the redhead to resort to logic and sense.
“He’s got a point.” Tolkien mutters, the only one not fighting over you as he texts his long-time girlfriend Nichole Daniels.
“Oh, shut the hell up with your unicorns and rainbows pussy talk, you stupid fucking Jew! You’re only saying that sappy shit because you know that she won’t pick you even if you did get dibs!” Cartman retorts before dramatically pinching his nose when Kenny rips the bong and obnoxiously exhales the smoke into the brunette’s face.
“Aw, sick! Your low quality shit stinks!”
“Mmm, I think that’s just your upper lip that you’re smelling, fat boy. You do know that if you’re not properly dusting the crumbs off of your greasy mouth after every meal, the food will eventually go bad and rot.” The blonde lazily grins as he hands Craig the bong.
“Look, all I’m saying is that it’d be best to just give her to me. Isn’t it less embarrassing for you guys if Y/N chooses me because I have dibs as opposed to her rejecting all of you, only to still like me because you’re all just ugly and boring?” Clyde pouts up at the guys, his body swaying from side to side as he rolls his skateboard in one place.
“Sorry Donovan—but I’m not letting a fine piece of ass like Y/N go without a fight, even if I have to fight a bro for her.” Kenny says as he leisurely watches Stan cough after taking a fat rip from the smoking device.
“Didn’t think you were the type to work for it, McWhoredick. With all the easy people you usually go for on the daily, I don’t think it’d be cool for you to just hit it and quit it like you usually do.” Craig straightens up from his previously laid back slouch against the wall, his clenched jaw slightly lifting up as he looks down at Kenny from his heightened stance.
The blonde takes that as a challenge as he stands up from the floor, his hands quick to shoot out and roughly shove at the ravenette. “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that? Fuck you. I wouldn’t do that shit to Y/N.” 
A hand grabs the material of Kenny’s parka at his elbow to stop the altercation from escalating even further, Tweek’s other hand tightly clutching onto the buttons of his top in anxiety. “I-I don’t know, dude… She’s our best friend, you know? That’d be really fucked up.” 
Kenny rips his arm away from the other blonde and eyes every single person in the group with no trace of his usual carefree stance. “Seriously? Well I think it’s fucked up that you guys suddenly have feelings for her just because it’s been revealed that she’s actually a girl.” 
And when no one says anything, the blonde scoffs. “I’ve always flirted with her since we were kids. Sure, I might have covered it up by passing it off as a lighthearted joke so that she couldn’t outright reject me, but it doesn’t make whatever I said to her less true.”
Kenny continues, “And I may be a ‘whore’ but I’m not a messy bitch who’d carelessly do shit like that with someone in our own damn friend group, especially to someone who means so much to me like Y/N. But let it be known: I was always transparent with how I felt and how cute I thought she was even when I thought she was a boy.”
And he was right—your earliest memories of being new in South Park were, naturally, of meeting new people. And when you talked to Karen McCormick for the first time during a day of playing your group’s fantasy game, she had told you right off the bat:
“Oh, hey! You’re the new kid! My sister, the princess, texted me about you. She thinks you’re cute.”
“That’s… That isn’t true.” Stan hesitantly speaks up once the silence seemed to stretch on.
The area of skin between his eyebrows are furrowed as he looks away from the group to avoid looking at anyone's reaction to his words. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and his teeth lightly nips away at his bottom lip in notable distress.
Kyle is visibly surprised at this revelation, “…Stan?” 
The ravenette still doesn’t look over at his best friend or at anyone in the group, deeming the sight of the school’s janitor emptying out the trash a more interesting sight as he continues, “I uh—there was a time when I felt guilty. I thought I only liked girls but then I started seeing Y/N differently. It freaked me out because I was always into Wendy, y’know?” 
Stan nervously mumbles, “I don’t know when it happened or how, but it was like I suddenly started noticing everything she did. My eyes kept automatically looking for her: to see her reaction when someone said or did something—if I could catch a glimpse of her rare smile or hear her quiet laughter. Even if there was nothing to see, I just liked to know that she was there and that she was okay.” 
“No, I… I get it. Me too, actually.” Now it’s Stan’s turn to look shocked when he finally looks over at Kyle, the redhead sporting a madly growing blush as his hand shyly rubs the back of his neck at his confession. 
“What?! Yeah, right! Quit dickriding by copying your little boyfriend just to make him jealous!” Cartman yells out in disbelief. 
“Shut the fuck up! It was…,” Kyle takes a moment to carefully think of the right term to eloquently express his feelings. “Confusing, right?”
He feels somewhat relieved and comforted when Stan silently nods in agreement, the gesture reassuring him and validating his experience as he feels more encouraged to speak up. “I didn’t know if the lines between platonic and romantic feelings were beginning to blur. I couldn’t tell if I was just mixing them up together or something but after some time, I figured that it didn’t matter because it was Y/N. And so, I was just satisfied as long as I had her by my side, even if it was as a friend.”
It’s quiet for a moment as everyone thinks to themselves, the air somber with only the sounds of the janitor rolling away the trash can being heard as he walks back into the warmth of the school building. The double door loudly closes behind him, blocking out the noise of students inside talking as silence once again pervades the area.
“Well, all this talk about feelings and shit is amazing and not in the least bit boring but I’ve never been confused with how I felt since I already knew I swung both ways. I’m only doing something about it now because you fuckers are going to go for her and like hell am I just going to let that happen without trying.” Craig interrupts, his eyes lingering on Tweek to let him know that he wasn’t afraid to make his ex his rival in this endeavor either.
“Yeah, cause we all know she’s only going to settle for one of you poor bastards if her first choice isn’t pursuing her.” Clyde boasts, his chest proudly puffed out as he points one of his thumbs at his smiling visage to indicate that he was the aforementioned 'first choice'.
Craig snickers at his unbridled confidence as he shoves the brunette and leans over to snatch the glass bong out of Stan’s hands to take another hit. As he lights the bowl, Kenny pushes the taller teen’s face away to inhale the smoke instead.
Cartman scoffs as he snarks the group, “You guys are a bunch of fucking simps. Did your feelings make all of you lame-o pussies? Or did all of your periods somehow sync up today?” 
“Some friends we are—we never even noticed such a big thing about someone we claim to fucking like.” Stan bitterly laughs, forcing the guys to remember the small comments they ignorantly made to you when you were still kids:
Cartman: You know, you have kind of pretty hair for a boy. You better not be a hippie or something.
Jimmy: I thought feminine-looking guys went out of style in the 80’s, but the new kids pulling it off.
Clyde: You kind of have big raisins for a boy, New Kid.
Scott: I’ve never seen a boy with such soft skin, what’s your secret?
Butters: Hey, Butthole. Anyone tell you for a boy you’re kinda pretty?
Kenny: You kind of remind me of my sister—I have this weird urge to protect you.
Stan: You know, for a boy you’re kind of feminine New Kid.
Kyle: There’s nothing wrong with a boy being feminine, be true to yourself.
“How are you guys so sure that she even likes boys? You were wrong about her gender and you could be wrong about this too.” Wendy slyly says to the pondering group as she passes by, Bebe giggling at her companion’s words as the boys snap out of their reminiscing.
Before they walk away too far, the female blonde decides to further antagonize the guys as she sticks out a tongue at them. “Didn’t ya know? Wendy knew that Y/N was a girl since the day that she moved in and you stupid boys didn’t!”
Cartman’s mouth drops open as everyone watches the two walk away in disbelief, “That fucking bitch.”
・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑
“Sorry for keeping you from lunch, Douchebag! Ah, my bad. Can I still call you that or..?” Scott Malkinson says as he blushes in embarrassment (and for seeing the entirety of your newly revealed face up close for the first time), his hand going up to rub at the brown tufts of hair at the back of his head.
“I mean, no problem if you’re not comfortable with it or have always disliked it! You probably wouldn’t want to go by Buttlord and stuff anymore too…” He nervously mumbles to himself.
You just offer a small nod as your eyes soften around the edges, your hands busy with stapling the packet of papers holding the directions for your two-person research essay for your science class before handing it to him. There didn’t seem to be a point in pulling up your hood anymore (reminiscent of the way Kenny often did) when the boys finally figured out you were a girl.
Zipping open his backpack, you patiently watch as Scott tucks away the report’s instructions for safekeeping in a folder before he offers you a bashful smile. He softly knocks a fist into your arm, “Hey. I really am sorry for misgendering you this whole time. Girl or boy, you’ll always be my trusty sidekick. Right, superpal?”
“Woah there, Malkinson! You’re not tryna pull a fast one on our girl when we aren’t looking, are ya?” Your attention shifts at the sound of Clyde’s voice, an arm being thrown over your shoulders as he protectively pushes you against his body. “You sly dog, you!”
From your peripherals, you see the other guys walking to catch up to where you are as Stan locks an arm around your science partner's neck to put him into a headlock and roughly tousle his hair. You disinterestedly look away when Kenny comes up to you with a wide smile, the blonde reaching an arm out to dap you up in greeting as per usual.
However, instead of stepping back after your half hug, he pulls on your interlocked hands to take you out of Clyde’s clutches and keeps you against his chest. Kenny’s larger hands slowly settles themselves against the curves of your waist as he presses his smile against the column of your neck.
“Missed me, beautiful?” He says, his lips evoking a cacophony of goosebumps as they ever so slightly skim against the soft expanse of your skin after every word.
“Knock it off, bastard. She doesn’t need your rank breath and your dirty hands on her.” Craig angrily mutters out as he pulls you away, only for a pair of arms to sneak around your waist from behind before someone’s chin plants itself onto one of your shoulders.
Kenny scoffs, obnoxiously trying to put said hands onto the taller ravenette’s face. “Your poor people stereotypes don’t do anything to hurt me, Craigory baby!”
Your face is as expressionless as always as you turn to identify your newest captor, a pout on Butters’ face. “That’s not fair Ken, and you know it!”
“Hey, you assholes said it yourselves: I’m always like this. So I’m not quite sure what you’re accusing me of, Butters. Unless you’re projecting your own ulterior motives onto lil’ old me?” Kenny has a lazy smile on his attractive face as he crosses his arms behind his head.
You don’t get to lean your body into Butters’ hold for too long before you feel someone’s hand sneak into the crook of your arm, trying to pull you out of your surrounding warmth. When you see that it’s Tweek fidgeting by your side, you place a reassuring hand on his own as you assume that his anxieties are getting out of control and needed comfort.
“Ngh! Y-you all need to leave her alone!” He yells, swiftly turning over his hand so that he can interlock your fingers together.
“Don’t be nice to him, Douchebag! He’s just faking it so that you’ll feel bad! The whole ‘liking it up the ass’ thing? It was all a FUCKING ACT!” Cartman indignantly shouts as he tries to separate your hands from each other, the blonde barista trying his hardest to not let go.
“Fuck you, ack! It just d-didn’t work out between us!” Tweek defends himself as he tries to bite the brunette’s unrelenting hands off.
“I can see why! Neither one of you have pussies. As I said already: you’re a bunch of fake homos who did it for money and attention!” Cartman yells before he loudly yelps from the blonde’s teeth finally breaking through his skin.
“Sick, dude. You might want to get tested for HIV… Or rabies.” Kyle grimaces as he watches Tweek hurriedly spit into the nearest trash can.
“And don’t be an ignorant piece of shit, fatass. You can still be a girl and not have a vagina.” The redhead continues while crossing his arms. 
“Meh meh meh.” Cartman mocks in a high pitched voice to which Kyle just stares back unamused, “Shut the fuck up, god! You’re talking to someone who was fucking transginger before! Of course I fucking know that! And have some goddamn tact next time, asshole—I was going through a lot of shit so it was a dark time for me back then!”
"Wh—You brought up you being transgender yourself, dumbass!"
Tolkien tiredly sighs at everything going on before handing Tweek his hydro flask to gargle its contents, a frenzied mantra of oh god’s being repeated between mouthfuls of water. He soothingly pats the blonde on the back as the barista bends over, hysterically heaving in panic while Kenny watches and cackles in amusement.
“Yeah, Y/N. You have an unnatural allegiance to losers.” Stan side eyes the two as he finally lets go of Scott, the brunette yelling out hasty goodbyes in order to escape the apparent arguing and to fix his messed up hair.
“Which is exactly why she keeps you around, Stanley.” Craig is quick to snark while he roughly pulls Cartman away from trying to get even with Tweek.
“Not true!” He yells.
Craig stares blankly at the protesting ravenette, “Uh-huh… Staniel, tell me: what medications are you on again?” 
“For my depression? Uhh, Lexapro. I think. Why?”
“I think they need to switch you to the stronger shit or rediagnose you because right now, you’re being fucking delusional. We smoked the same shit just now so I know it’s not whatever strain Kenny has that’s fucking you up.” Craig dismisses, using his height to his advantage as he condescendingly pats Stan hard on the back of his neck and causes him to stumble.
“Oh fuck you—“
Kenny impatiently interrupts, the blonde pulling you away. “As much as I love me some fucking, let’s just go to lunch already! You guys can bitch all you want in the cafeteria—I’m hungry!”
“You’re always hungry though, poor ass.” Cartman mumbles as everyone starts to move.
“Fuck you, I’m stoned.”
・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑
The lunch room is as noisy as ever from where you stand, your disinterested eyes looking around while your arms get recklessly tugged back and forth. You don’t pay any mind to the curious stares of any passerby and those sitting near your standing position as you’ve already grown used to the unwarranted attention your friends always seem to attract from their antics.
“N/N is sitting with me!” Clyde yells out to which the brunette emphasizes with a pull on the arm of yours that he's tightly hugging to his chest.
“She sat next to you yesterday when we went out and got pizza for lunch, you greedy asshole!” Kenny argues back as he resolutely plants his feet against the cafeteria floor, not budging from where your hands are intertwined.
“Not fair—I haven’t sat next to my buddy all week when we've eaten.” Butters pouts from where he stands in front of you as his hands grab hold of your jacket and his fingers mindlessly fiddles with the zipper of it.
With one last tug, Kenny guides you over to the group's designated table before the other two can react and offers a solution. “Here: my princess can just sit on my lap so that the both of you crybabies can still sit next to her.” 
The blonde demonstrates by settling you over his thighs before he tightly locks his arms around your waist, sending a cheeky smile over your shoulder at the flabbergasted blonde and brunette still standing up. “There! Problem solved. Fuck, I’m a genius.” 
Kyle rolls his eyes as he takes your tray of food in his unoccupied hand and places it on the table between his own and Stan’s, causing Kenny to pout when you stand up to sit where your lunch is. Once sat, you watch as the ushanka-wearing teen opens up the plastic holding your utensils before he hands you your spork.
“Y/N.” You blankly turn your head away from your food to face Clyde.
The brunette leans over the table to wipe a smidge of sauce that was left on your face with his thumb, his finger lingering at the edge of your lips. “You got something on your pretty face.”
Your eyes dart towards his finger when he pulls away to show you the hint of food he wiped off before you lean forward to lick it off of his finger for him. Clyde’s grin stretches impossibly wide across his face at your welcomed action, both of his elbows planting themselves on top of the table that he was still laying his stomach over as he cups his cheeks with his hands and brings his legs up to delightedly kick them back and forth like a lovesick schoolgirl. 
“Fucking knock it off, Clyde!” The brunette yelps out of his daze when Craig grabs one of his swinging feet to roughly yank him off of the table.
“Dude.” Stan forlornly stares at his knocked over can of soda, the carbonated liquid thankfully spilling onto the floor and not on anyone’s clothes.
“You’re a fucking try-hard, you know that?!” Cartman yells as he fumbles to catch his opened pack of snacky cakes before they fall onto the dirty cafeteria floor from the other brunette’s actions.
Clyde is unable to verbally defend himself against the larger teen as he tries to hold his hand as close to his chest as possible while fending off Kenny with the other. While he gently cradles his appendage to his body, the blonde tries to get the prized finger to himself for a chance at an indirect kiss. 
“Talk about desperate. You beg for sex like you beg for food, McCormick.” Craig mumbles as everyone watches the fighting pair in a mixture of disgust and disappointment. 
“Wuh-what’s going on, fellas?” Jimmy asks as he takes a seat besides a stressed out Tolkien, the teen irritatedly rubbing his temples with his eyes closed to soothe the quickly growing headache he was developing. 
“Jimmy! Finally, someone sane. I’m going crazy—they keep fighting over Y/N.”
“Competition? F-f-for what? They say girls love someone funny and I’ve already made Y/N laugh the most in the past!” The brunette proudly boasts before Tolkien bemoans the loss of who he thought was his only ally.
It's only the first day of school, the wealthy teen thinks to himself in dread as he begins to wonder if he should start sitting with Timmy instead.
・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑
Taking a sip of your chilled juice makes you slightly shiver, causing Stan to notice from his close proximity to you. Dusting off his hands together to take away any remnants of crumbs leftover from his brownie, the ravenette reaches over to zip your jacket up after he deems his hands clean enough to not leave a stain.
From the next seat over, Craig notices the interaction and what caused it so he takes it upon himself to place his beloved chullo on the top of your head. He reaches across from the front of Stan’s chest and in result, roughly pushes him away (he almost falls ass first out of the bench he's sitting on) as he takes care to ensure that both of your ears are properly covered.
The taller teen simply smirks when the ravenette glares at him for one-upping him—Craig’s hat providing additional warmth and even displaying a mark of possession that simply zipping up your outerwear couldn’t provide for other students to see. Their silent but heated stare-off gets interrupted when someone uses the earflaps from Craig’s chullo to forcibly turn your head to another direction.
“Douchebag, come over to mine after school. My mom got me that new video game we were talking about last week and you’d be a stupid loser to not be one of the first people in town to play it.” Cartman demands after he lets go of the soft material to resume devouring his lunch.
“No can do, fatfuck. Y/N already promised to go to my house so that we can do homework together.” Kyle interrupts with a self-satisfied grin on his face that only serves to make the brunette loudly slam his hands on the surface of the table in anger.
“Ooo, group study session at Kyle’s house after school?” Butters perks up at his own suggestion, an innocent grin adorning his face as he looks at everyone at the table for confirmation. 
“Fuck you, I didn’t invite any of you bastards over except for her.”
“Ditch them, babe—Karen misses you! Why don’t you come over to my house instead so you can visit her?” Kenny jumps at the opportunity to speak up first after Kyle’s dismissal over Butters' self-invitation.
The boys see you visibly perk up as you straighten your back at the mention of the blonde’s younger sister, making Craig furrow his eyebrows together. “Fuck off. If there’s anyone that Y/N wants to see the most, it’s Stripe.”
Stan immediately scoffs as he pushes around his vegetables with his spork, the ravenette mumbling under his breath as his chin rests on his open palm. “I mean, at least he’s not using his own sibling as a cheap way to get her to visit. Not like I can do the same when I only have a bitch older sister at home.”
“Oh! How about a pet play date then! I can bring Rex!” Clyde excitedly contributes to Craig’s words, only for the ravenette to glare at him when they make eye contact.
"Wait, then I can bring Sparky—"
Kyle interrupts Stan before the conversation can escalate even further, “No! I already told my ma that Y/N is coming over so she’s making extra dinner.” 
“Then there’s enough food for all of us to come over tonight.” Cartman says around a mouthful of chicken with an air of finality.
“That’d add another 30 servings on just you alone. So no, fatass, there isn’t enough food for you in my house or even in the whole entire goddamn grocery store that can satisfy the endless void that’s your fucking stomach.” Kyle argues back as his face contorts in disgust at the brunette’s lack of decorum at the lunch table, his hands quickly shooting out to shield both his and your lunch from any spit or stray bits of food.
“Aye!”
You patiently wait for him to take his hand away from where it’s hovering protectively over your tray but as you do, you get distracted from their bickering when Butters holds out a spoonful of his fruit cup. “Here, little buddy! I know how much you like this combination.”
Your eyes soften around the edges in thanks as you lean forward to eat it directly out of his spork, the blonde’s hand kindly waiting for you to chew before he pulls the utensil away and continues to eat his snack. 
“Ack!” Tweek hurriedly fumbles to pour out a cup of still-warm coffee from his metal tumbler, his eyebrows furrowing in intense concentration as he tries to reign in his shaking hands to bring the portable cup up to your face for a sip without spilling.
Clyde watches in disbelief as you bring your body as close as you can from your seat at the table to drink the blonde’s offering, causing him to hurry with sticking a cheesy poof halfway into his mouth. “Here, N/N! Have some of this!”
Kyle’s eyes widen when he sees you starting to lean your face forward in the brunette’s direction, his hands shooting out to stop you from moving any further to give the brunette an opportunity for a kiss. “Y/N! No, goddammit!”
You blankly stare at the teen for interrupting before something moves in your peripherals, your eyes darting to the side to see Craig patiently holding out a chip towards you. As you turn your body towards his, he pulls it away from your face at the very last second.
“Sit next to me in class and I’ll give you a piece.” He smirks when you nod before taking a bite of the proffered snack out of his hand.
Kenny overhears and bitterly tsk’s to himself before placing a hand across the table with his palm facing up, his fingers wiggling as he also attempts to gain your favor through food. Your head cocks to the side at the action before you obediently place your hand on top of his, the blonde interlocking your fingers together as he brightly smiles at his success.
“Good girl.” He gently coos at you as he feeds you a piece of his cookie, his cerulean orbs watching you in endearment when you chew the dessert before he gives your linked appendages a soft squeeze. 
Once eaten, the blonde uses his now unoccupied hand to pet the top of your head to which Stan sneers at. “Quit it, dude. She’s not one of your pet rats for you to coddle.”
“And what about me?! You fuckers never share any food whenever I ask!” Cartman slams both of his hands down onto the surface of the table (again), causing all of its seated occupants to roll their eyes as they settle their rattling cans of soda and water bottles from tipping over.
“You’re spouting bullshit—I’ve offered you food before.” Craig disinterestedly says as he takes the rest of Kenny’s cookie to prevent him from feeding you again and shoves it all in his mouth in one go.
“Only when you’ve dropped it on purpose and told me to eat it from the fucking floor if I wanted it so badly, you bastard!”
The ravenette merely shrugs, not seeing a fault in his actions as he pushes away the raging blonde trying to punch him. “Same thing. Bitches can’t be choosers or however that saying goes.”
At his words, the edges of your lips unconsciously quirk up into a small smile. It’s like Hell freezes over as everyone stops whatever they’re doing to get a glimpse of a sight so rare to see from your usually blank face.
“Quick! Take a picture! Take a fucking picture!” Clyde yelps at Kenny's demand as his hands fumble in their haste to rip his cellphone out of his jacket’s pocket.
You wonder to yourself why you’ve maintained the façade of being a boy when the dangers of the government trying to find you stopped being a threat so long ago. Maybe, you’ve unconsciously been trying to continue the lie because the person everyone thought you were when you were the "male Y/N" was the one that your friends already found themselves loving and enjoyed being around.
And who would take such a risky chance at changing such a beautiful thing like the precious friendship that this dysfunctional group of boys brought you?
But with the way that everyone is acting after the initial nerve-racking reveal of your true identity from this morning, you find it silly that you ever thought for a second that you might have disappointed your friends with who you really were. Because right now, as you see everyone around the table watching you with eyes that look at you as if you held the whole entire universe in just the palm of your small hands, you let yourself know that there was nothing to ever worry about.
At this thought, your smile slowly widens until a full set of pearly white teeth makes their appearance and a beautiful hue of pink paints the apples of your cheeks. This seemingly knocks any incoming words from leaving the boy's mouths as they watch in stunned silence. 
You giggle over the din of chattering students in the cafeteria, causing the guys to lean even closer than before to hear the melodic sound of your rare laughter. “It’s beggars can’t be choosers, dumbfuck.”
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a/n: ((i truly tried writing jimmy as a love interest because duh, it's not team craig without him!! but for the life of me, i cannot write him in fics & i really don't know why **sobs**))
2K notes · View notes
yzzyhee · 2 months ago
Text
flamin’ hot lemon — lhs
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bf!heeseung x gf!reader
warnings: established relationship, suggestive (blowjob— minors dni), kissing/making out?, petnames (baby), lowcases written
wc: 3.8k~
synopsis: you know how the saying goes… save a horse, ride a cowboy… or do something about it as long as it’s saving the horse…
now listen to: flamin’ hot lemon — jaehyun
a/n: now. this song was on repeat ever since the release so obviously, it had to happen as i remembered the sweet venom stage— also ! first time writing smth that’s like not fluff / small suggestive and actually going almost all the way in but well, this was heavily saved by my beloved precious @ja3yun — a big round of applause cause without her this fic would’ve never seen the daylight 🙂‍↕️ anyway, feedbacks & constructive criticism is appreciated ✌🏻
ps. my wife said to make it clear there won’t be a part two so i’m saying it — there won’t be a part too.
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you blink. and then you blink again, and again, and again as if each time you won’t be met with the same view, thinking it must be your eyes playing tricks with you.
“baby? you okay?” heeseung asks, a slight hint of worry in his eyes though his tone gives him away. he knows. of course, he knows why you’re suddenly speechless, staring at him as if he came out of your shared bedroom completely naked.
your mouth parts, forming an “o” as you try to wrap your mind around the view before you. and what a beautiful view… there he stands, your boyfriend, in all his denim-clad cowboy glory.
the fitted jacket hugs his frame in all the right places, highlighting his broad shoulders and the way the jeans cling to his legs is almost unfair. a silver belt attached to his jeans that accentuates his pretty tiny waist. and of course, the most important part of it all, the cowboy-denim hat that sits low on his head, casting a shadow over his mischievous eyes.
you knew you were going to match — a cowboy always has to have his cowgirl after all. you have the perfect blend of casual and playful; a fitted, deep red plaid button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just above your elbows, high-waisted denim shorts that hug your hips perfectly, a fringed brown suede vest that you wear over your shirt, and a pair of scuffed-up cowboy boots completing your whole look.
“yn?” he smirks, his voice low as he takes a slow step toward you. “cat got your tongue?”
you blink again, the heat rising in your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up. your mind isn’t cooperating with you, struggling to string together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. you try to focus, but the way heeseung is standing there — all cocky and confident in that ridiculously attractive cowboy outfit — has your nerves completely scrambled.
“i- what… what is this?” you finally manage to stutter, gesturing vaguely toward his outfit. the words feel clumsy on your tongue, your heart pounding a little too loudly in your chest.
heeseung chuckles softly, his hands casually resting on his hips, the gesture making you even more aware of how well the denim clings to his figure.
“it’s for the party tonight. you like it?” his voice is low, teasing, and you know now that he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on you.
right, the party. your friends thought it was a brilliant idea to throw a random halloween party even though it wasn’t even remotely close to 31st october, yet, you still agreed without much thought. but now, standing here, facing heeseung like this, it’s hard to focus on anything except how your pulse seems to be dancing under your skin, and how your throat has gone dry.
you try to clear your head, but every time you look at him, the butterflies in your stomach only get worse. heeseung’s eyes don’t leave yours, the playful spark in them making your pulse race even more. his presence feels overwhelming, like the air between you two is thick with electricity.
“i-yeah,” you breathe, swallowing hard. “i just wasn’t expecting… this.”
his smirk deepens, and you catch the slight shift in his expression, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something else—something darker, more intense. “i wanted to surprise you,” he says, his voice soft now, like he’s not just talking about the costume.
and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of how close he’s standing, the warmth radiating off him, the way his fingers brush against your waist as he steps in even closer. you can smell his cologne, something warm and familiar, but tonight it feels different, headier and spicier somehow.
“so, are you surprised?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now, as he gently tilts your chin up, his thumb tracing along your jawline.
you nod, your breath hitching in your throat. you’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the way his thumb continues to brush against your skin, but you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest. everything feels so intense — like the whole room has shrunk to just the two of you.
heeseung leans in, his lips hovering just above yours, and you feel like time slows down. your heart is racing, your entire body tingling with anticipation as his breath mingles with yours. you close your eyes, waiting, wanting.
then, he closes the distance, his lips finally meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it’s gentle at first, like he’s testing the waters, but when you respond — when you kiss him back with equal intensity — something shifts. the kiss deepens, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies.
your mind blanks, the only thing you can focus on is the warmth of his lips against yours, the way his hands grip your waist, the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. it’s slow but deliberate, filled with a tenderness that has your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.
when he pulls back, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath is slightly uneven, and his lips are curved into a soft smile.
“i think we should head out for the party now…” you say, your voice just slightly louder than a whisper.
humming in response, heeseung’s lips brush your forehead in a featherlight kiss before he straightens, his hands reluctantly sliding from your waist. “right,” he says, his voice hushed and warm, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “wouldn’t want to keep the party waiting.”
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by the time you reach your friend’s hourse, it’s buzzing with life. you can hear the thumping bass of music before you even reach the front door, the muffled sound of laughter and voices spilling out onto the porch. the house is decked out in full halloween glory — orange and purple lights drape across the front yard, casting an eerie glow over the hay bales and fake tombstones scattered across the lawn. a giant inflatable skeleton waves ominously from the roof, its eyes flickering red.
the inside of the house is even more chaotic. there are people everywhere, dressed in every kind of costume imaginable — witches, zombies, vampires, superheroes — filling the space with laughter and energy. the smell of caramel apples and popcorn mingles with the unmistakable scent of candy and punch, and the air is thick with excitement.
heeseung’s hand tightens slightly around yours as you weave through the crowd, his thumb still brushing against your skin in that comforting way you love so much. you catch glimpses of familiar faces as you move deeper into the house, waving at people you know from classes as you pass. everyone seems to be caught up in the pre-halloween spirit, and the atmosphere is electric, a blend of fun chaos and easygoing joy.
you suddenly spot jay, his cowboy hat cocked at a ridiculous angle, standing with his girlfriend, aejay, by the snack table. jay is in a flannel shirt and boots, looking like he stepped straight out of a western, while aejay rocks a sleek, edgy vampire costume — her dark lips and red contacts making her look both elegant and slightly dangerous. they’re laughing about something, jay’s arm slung casually around her shoulders.
when jay catches sight of you and heeseung, his grin widens. “well, well, look who finally decided to show up!” he calls, raising his red solo cup in greeting. “and look at you, heeseung, pulling off that cowboy look like you were born for it.”
heeseung grins back, tugging you closer as you approach. you laugh, shaking your head. “is this some kind of cowboy reunion?” you ask when you reach the couple and eye jay more intently in his flannel and boots.
jay smiles and nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “we thought it’d be funny. jake should be around here somewhere too, dressed as that cowboy character from toy story.
heeseung immediately perks up, avid fan of the toy story movies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you mean woody?”
jay snickers, already sensing where this is going.
“well,” heeseung says, glancing at you with a mischievous grin, “looks like jake’s the only one buzzing with excitement tonight.” he leans closer to you, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “but don’t worry, baby — i’m no toy. you don’t have to pull my string to get me talking. however, you can pull on something else…”
you roll your eyes, groaning at the cheesy, suggestive line, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “heeseung,” you laugh, nudging him in the side, “let’s just hope jake doesn’t take the woody too seriously tonight.”
jay bursts out laughing at that, and even heeseung’s eyes crinkle with amusement.
the four of you chat for a while, catching up amidst the hum of the party. aejay, always the life of any gathering, starts telling a dramatic story about how she had to battle three different costume stores to get the perfect set of vampire fangs. jay interrupts her every few seconds, adding his own exaggerated spin to the tale, making you laugh until your stomach hurts.
the lights are dim, casting everyone in a soft, warm glow, and the air is filled with the scent of sugar and cinnamon, along with the occasional burst of cold air from the open back door.
it’s a perfect kind of chaos—the kind where time seems to slow down and you’re acutely aware of every moment, every laugh, every smile. but most of all, you’re aware of heeseung’s presence beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his arm wrapping around your waist every so often, like he can’t bear to be too far away from you.
you keep stealing glances at him, your eyes tracing over the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his denim jacket fits perfectly across his broad shoulders.
you bite your bottom lip, unable to comprehend how this ridiculously handsome man is yours. every time you look at him, an involuntary expression of satisfaction and adoration spreads across your face. that’s right, he is yours.
sensing your stare, heeseung leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear in that soft, teasing way that always makes your heart race. “having fun?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, like a secret meant only for you.
you look up at him, your heart fluttering in your chest as you meet his gaze. his eyes are dark, full of warmth, and something else — something that sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. you nod, feeling your breath hitch slightly. “yeah,” you whisper, smiling softly. “i’m having a lot of fun.”
heeseung grins at your response, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. the heat between you feels tangible, like the rest of the crowded room has melted away, leaving just the two of you. “good,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.
then, he leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his fingers grazing your chin. with a gentle touch, he tilts your head up towards him, his thumb brushing across your skin as he smiles, his voice dipping even lower. “wanna have even more fun?”
the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker with mischief, makes your pulse quicken. you can feel the air between you both shift, thick with anticipation, and all you can think about is how close his lips are to yours, how effortlessly he seems to set your whole world spinning with just a look.
heeseung’s grin deepens as he holds your gaze, his fingers still resting gently under your chin. you feel the tension change between the two of you. his face has written trouble all over it and, without another word, he gently grabs your hand, forgetting about your friends and starts tugging you through the crowd with that easy confidence you love so much.
“where are we going?” you ask, your heart racing in your chest, excitement swirling inside you as you follow him down the dimly lit hallway.
heeseung glances back at you, that signature playful smirk tugging at his lips. “wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, his voice teasing.
before you can ask another question, he stops in front of the bathroom door, pushing it open slightly and pulling you inside with him. the moment the door clicks shut, the noise of the party fades into a distant hum, leaving just the two of you together in the small space.
your back presses gently against the bathroom counter and heeseung leans in, his hands bracing on either side of you, caging you in, his eyes dark with a playful intensity. he doesn't say anything for a moment — just looks at you, his gaze roving over your face like he's taking his time, savouring the way you're biting your bottom lip, the way your breath catches every time he gets a little closer.
"you’ve been staring at me all night," he murmurs, his lips brushing just barely against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "got something on your mind, baby?"
your cheeks burn as his words settle over you, but you can't stop the grin that threatens to split your cheeks. "maybe," you tease back, your hands instinctively finding their way to the front of his denim jacket, your fingers toying with the fabric.
heeseung’s eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "you know," he says softly, his voice laced with amusement, "if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask."
you laugh, the sound light and breathless, your body buzzing with anticipation. "oh, i’ve had your attention all night," you counter, your voice just as teasing, leaning in closer, your lips grazing his jaw. "haven’t i?”
his breath hitches slightly at the contact, his arms tightening around you. "yeah, you have," he admits, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, like it's just for you. "but now... i think I want a little more."
your heart skips a beat at his words, your pulse thrumming wildly in your chest. heeseung leans in, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours, close enough.
your heart races as heeseung’s lips hover close to yours, the tension between you thick and electric. the space around you seems to shrink, and the air feels warmer, heavier, with anticipation. his breath mingles with yours, and you're maddeningly aware of how close his body is to yours, how his hands on either side of you are steady, but his eyes — his eyes tell you he's barely holding back.
your hands tighten their grip on the front of his jacket, pulling him closer still, your breath dancing with his. the sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, loud and steady, as you resist the urge to close the gap between you immediately. instead, you let the tension simmer, savouring the way it builds and swells in the space between you both.
"i want to give you something," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
heeseung raises an eyebrow, his eyes dark with curiosity and desire, but his smirk never falters. "yeah?" he murmurs, his lips just a breath away from yours, his hand gently sliding down your arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. "what’s that, baby?"
you bite your lip, your pulse quickening. "a little reward," you tease, your voice playful yet laced with intent.
his grip on your waist tightens slightly, and you can feel the tension in his body as he leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "i like the sound of that," he whispers, his voice low and rough.
you grin, your heart racing, and slowly, you let your fingers slide down from his jacket to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. "but," you say, tilting your head up just enough so your lips graze his jaw, "you'll have to be patient."
heeseung groans softly, his head dipping forward until his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven. "you’re killing me," he mutters, though there's a hint of amusement in his tone, like he's enjoying this playful back-and-forth as much as you are.
"patience," you repeat, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines down his chest, your touch light enough to drive him crazy.
heeseung chuckles, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, his voice thick with both amusement and frustration. "you’re really gonna make me wait?"
looking up at him through your lashes, the smile on your lips is playful but knowing. "i think it'll be worth it," you say, your voice teasing, and you lean up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth
his lips press back against yours, but before he can deepen the kiss, you pull away, your smile widening at the quiet groan of protest he makes. heeseung’s hands tighten on your waist, and his eyes meet yours with a mix of desire and amusement, like he knows exactly what you're doing, and he's more than willing to play along.
you tilt your head slowly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. before heeseung can even register what's happening, you drop to your knees, the cool bathroom floor sending a brief shiver through you. when you look up at him, his breath catches, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.
his hands, which had been resting on the counter behind you, grip the edge tightly now, knuckles white with tension. his gaze locks with yours, dark and full of surprise, anticipation, and something deeper. you can see the way his chest rises and falls, his breath coming faster as the realisation of your bold move settles in.
"y/n." heeseung breathes out, his voice rough, like he's struggling to keep control. his eyes flicker between your face and the space between you, his hands twitching as if unsure of whether to stop you or let you continue. but his body betrays him — he's frozen in place, caught between disbelief and desire.
you bite your lip, leaning closer, your fingers lightly grazing the fabric of his jeans. "shh," you whisper, your eyes never leaving his. the power shift between you both is palpable, the air between you charged with intensity.
you can see the effect you're having on him-the way his breath hitches, his muscles tensing under your touch, the raw hunger in his gaze as he watches your every move.
for a moment, you both just stay there, the silence in the small bathroom heavy and thick with expectancy. heeseung’s jaw clenches, his hands still gripping the counter as he lets out a shaky breath. his lips part as if to speak, but no words come out, just another sharp inhale as he watches you, eyes hooded and dark with want.
but instead of taking things further, you pull back just slightly, your teasing smile widening. "still want me to keep going?" you ask, your voice soft but dripping with playful intent, leaving him on the edge of anticipation.
heeseung’s grip loosens for a moment, and he lets out a low, breathless chuckle, his voice hoarse. "you’re really not playing fair, are you?"
you wink at him and moisturise your lips. a feel of rage and desire rushes to heeseung’s limbs as you free his now hard dick. your hands wrap around the base of his dick and you stroke him with a rotating motion. a small gasp escapes your boyfriend’s lips as a zap of pleasure shoots down his spine.
heeseung’s fingers sink into you hair, gathering it in a ponytail, and then yanking you back not so smoothly. you look back at him, eyelashes batting and lips forming a pout. “let me have a taste, please.”
and who is heeseung to say no to you? he stares at you as you slide his length into your hot, wet mouth, the tip of him disappearing past your lips as you continue pumping him at the base slowly, your grip tightening gradually.
your movements are slow, teasing and sensual. you peek up at your boyfriend through your lashes the whole time, watching his reactions, relishing in each moan and hiss — loving the effect you have on him.
suddenly, heeseung tugs you away gently, his fingers tangled in the makeshift ponytail he created, his eyes dark but steady as they meet yours. his lips curl into a teasing smirk as he watches you spread his precum across your lips. his thumb lightly brushes your bottom lip, and his breath hitches for a moment.
"why did you stop me?" you ask, your voice soft but with a hint of frustration, groaning slightly at the abrupt interruption.
his grip tightens ever so slightly around your arms as he pulls you up to stand, his expression shifting from playful to something more serious, yet still burning with desire.
“we’re leaving the party now, get up.” he says firmly, voice low and commanding.
you frown at first, confused by the sudden shift, but before you can question him, he's already pulling you closer, his hands gripping your elbows as he makes sure you're steady on your feet. his eyes soften as he sees your confused, slightly hurt expression, and his lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“no, no, baby. i loved it, i love you” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “ but we’re doing things my way now. let’s go home.”
a playful smile spreads across your face, and you nod, understanding the promise behind his words. "as long as you wear the hat while fucking me, i’ll go anywhere you want," you tease, your voice playful but full of anticipation.
heeseung chuckles, adjusting the cowboy hat still perched on his head “you really love this costume, don’t you?”
“you know what they say, save a horse… ride a cowboy…” you say in a sing-song voice, winking as you turn around and open the bathroom door to step out.
behind you, heeseung’s deep, booming laughter echoes down the hallway, and you feel his presence close behind as he follows you out. there’s a glint in his eyes, and you can feel the shift in the air, the promise of what's to come.
as you step back into the party, the noise and music barely register. all that's on your mind is heeseung, and judging by the heated look in his eyes, the feeling is mutual. there’s only one thing on his mind as he watches you saunter ahead — tonight, a lot of riding will be involved.
after all, he thinks with a smirk, a lot of horses need saving.
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jozistyle · 6 months ago
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The Power of Posture to Improve Your Public Speaking
The Power of Posture: How to Improve Your Public Speaking Skills As a passionate public speaker, I’m excited to share my thoughts on how to improve your public speaking skills, even if you don’t have the time, money, or inclination to attend a workshop. One crucial aspect of public speaking is posture, which can make or break your confidence and credibility on stage. The Importance of…
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r0ttenhearts · 1 year ago
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wasted on you
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idol! scaramouche x reader
sypnosis: after an argument with scaramouche he has to perform for a show. the show must go on, despite his mind being anywhere but the present
warnings: angst, arguments, no comfort
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“scara, we’re on in 5!”
“i know, i know. just give me a minute.”
scaramouche fumbled with his phone, typing a hasty response and sending it to you. it had only been a few hours since you last spoke, or fought. your angry voice still ringing in his ears, the harsh words left between you two as he left you there. alone.
it was eating at him, the way you looked so defeated. so done.
but you’d still show up for his show, right? you never missed one. even after bickering with him you’d always show. that smile on your face as he met you backstage after every show, embracing you while you praised him for a job well done.
he hoped that would be the case as he stood next to his friends, ready to perform that tedious dance routine heizou had choreographed for the group. painted nails adjusted his mic, a wide smile plastered on his face as he moved with his friends in sync.
his dark eyes scanned the crowd, looking for your usual spot he’d get you tickets for. the memory made him smile, your complaints of not getting the best view when he’d given you a different spot.
his smile faltered for a moment before perking back up as he realized you weren’t there. that comforting presence he’d always find when he felt the most nervous about his ability to perform wasn’t there. the one person he wanted to watch him wasn’t there.
“if you’re going to keep whining why don’t you just leave?”
“do you mean that scara?”
“i can’t even bother to look at your face right now. archons, don’t you see how lucky you are to have me? i could have anyone but i chose you.”
“maybe i shouldn’t have.”
his blood ran cold, recalling his words to you. he hadn’t meant it. he only said it in the moment because he was so angry. so angry about you pestering him. so what if your third year anniversary was on the same day of the concert? you knew how important it was to him, right?
more important than your relationship.
the rest of the concert droned on. he felt like a zombie, the same strenuously practiced choreography being repeated once more to a crowd of thousands of fans. the same songs he’d practiced with the group leaving his lips until they left the stage, heading back to their dressing rooms backstage.
he hoped, prayed, that you’d be there, sitting in his chair and ready to give him a hug. but you weren’t. he was greeted with nothing but an empty room, his makeup on the dresser left the way he had abandoned it. scara swallowed thickly as he pulled out his phone, opening your chat. his heart dropped seeing the “delivered” notification missing.
a dry laugh escaped his lips, almost collapsing at his dresser chair. his fingers tapping on his screen harshly.
scara: (y/n)? did you really block me
scara: this isn’t funny
scara: don’t be like this please.
scara: i didn’t mean it, you know that
he could feel a lump well up in his throat as the “not delivered” notification popped up. his phone was just acting up, right? you didn’t leave him. you couldn’t have. you promised him you’d always be there for him, especially after his mother left him.
it seemed cruel, the way he checked all of his social media accounts to see that you had blocked him on every single one. your bio now missing a ring emoji that you both once had on your profile.
tears welled up in his eyes, fist slamming on his dresser as he thought back to the argument. the very thing that had led to this.
to say he had been stressed was an understatement. with both the concert and your anniversary coming up he was faced with the decision to pick between the two. it almost seemed too easy, but he couldn’t forget the way your face fell as he told you he was still planning to attend to the performance.
you understood, didn’t you? perfect little (y/n) always waiting for him. watching him as he played out his part in the career he enjoyed. he could make it up to you after the concert, anyway. your anniversaries would always come again, but he couldn’t leave his friends high and dry for some relationship.
they needed him! it wasn’t even a question when it came to the two.
but if you knew that, why were you so angry? why did you shout at him that you wanted him to pick you instead?
“i’m sick of this, scara! i want to feel important to you! i don’t want to come second to none for the things you care about!”
“what are you bitching about now? you say this like we haven’t already done something for the other two. stop whining.”
the angry tears in your eyes as you shoved him was not something he was used to seeing. he didn’t think you’d be so upset at the news. even through your anger, your silence scared him more.
“i just thought.. i mattered to you, scara. i guess after three years i still don’t get the memo..”
“don’t be stupid (y/n). if you behave after we can do whatever you want for this stupid anniversary. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? you’re like a dog. threatening to bite but wagging your tail if i give you a crumb of a promise. it’s pathetic, really.”
“i didn’t mean it, i didn’t mean it.” he whispered to himself, eyes glued to your profile that now had him blocked.
“i wish you wouldn’t—“
“are you gonna keep bitching?”
that was the last night he saw you, the last night he ever called you his. he sat alone in that dressing room, his red eyeliner smeared as he cried into his hands. it wasn’t like him at all. he hadn’t realized how much he needed that bond, that intimacy he craved as he’d been lacking in it since he was a child.
maybe then he’d learn to cherish the things he had, before he pushed them away. he’s made a nasty habit of that, hasn’t he?
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a/n: i got the idea to throw this together after the ask from @magica-ren so thank you!
part II
taglist: @samarill @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @ayameei @aqualesha @msdevilis
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versadies · 8 months ago
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in a world of boys, he's a gentleman! (various x gn!reader)
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SALUTATIONS. in a world of boys, he's a gentleman!
ADDRESSED. alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, and neuvillette (x gn!reader)
STAMPS. the little things they do around you that remind you that chivalry is not dead <3
CONTENT. ooc!neuvi (?), ooc!wriothesley (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationships, possibly cheesy (i like cheese), and possible grammar errors. some of the things mentioned can be applicable to others!
POST-SCRIPT. can you already tell that these four own my heart? i love them sm ( >-< )!!! also made new banners for a change hehe
LINKS. masterlist \ taglist
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Although ALHAITHAM is someone who prefers to focus greatly on himself and prioritizes his own well-being over others', that does not mean he is selfish nor inconsiderate. Which is why it is not far-fetched for someone like him to do the little things that proves the fact that chivalry is not dead.
Though of course, he does it in his very own way. You just have to be very observant to notice it. 
For instance, whenever you two are sitting in front of the table, he’d cover the edge whenever you lean down to get something that fell from the table, ensuring that you don’t bump your head from the furniture and get hurt. 
Another instance is when you’d rant on and on in his presence, thinking he’s not listening to you due to his earpieces that’s used to cancel out meaningless noises. When in reality, he’s actually listening to you —  because to him, your words are always something of importance to him whether he’d admit that or not. 
It doesn’t even matter if you’re talking about your day, complaining about prices, or even expressing your concerns over things you shouldn’t even be concerned about; he’d listen without a word if not necessary, because if it’s important to you, then it’s important to listen about it. Though of course, the only exceptions are when you’d actually talk about something he doesn’t care about, such as gossip.
Meanwhile, in the bustling marketplaces of Sumeru, there’s bound to be scammers preying on oblivious consumers, and Alhaitham sees to it that you won’t fall for such things. It’s partially one of the reasons why he always tags along with you whenever you shop for groceries or for other things.
If a scammer tries their shot, they’ll only be greeted by a stern warning glare from the scribe as you look through the displayed products, only for your lover to drag you to a more appropriate stall that’s much better than the suspicious one. 
During the later stage of your relationship when you moved into his humble home, he made sure to have enough space for your things, and even sacrificed some of his own possessions for the sake of yours. 
Speaking of sacrifices, there are also times when he’d sacrifice his leisure time that he values in order to hang out with you. Despite your assurances that he doesn’t have to spend time with you if he wants to be alone, he doesn’t care and still hangs out with you anyway. 
In his perspective, it’s not a sacrifice, because spending his spare time with you is much better than spending it alone. 
It’s the little things that remind you that he does care. Though, you couldn’t help but try and confront him about his actions since you want to hear it from his mouth. 
When you do though, you’ll only get a deadpan look from him and a few words:
“Isn’t that the bare minimum of what boyfriends should do anyway?”
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ZHONGLI is no doubt a traditional gentleman when it comes to not just you, but also towards anyone around him. Of course, you’re still special in his eyes. After all, you’re his darling gem who is above any other treasures that he’s come across in this lifetime.
He always checks up on your well-being with care and tenderness that often causes your legs to become jelly-like. He never fails to bring heat to your face from how sweet he is!
Like your average traditional gentleman, Zhongli gives you his coat as soon as he sees even a slight sign of you feeling cold from Liyue’s breeze, caressing your arms with his glove-covered hands while he’s at it. Not that you’re complaining, especially from how good his cologne smells from his coat that just made you a little in a daze.
He’s willing to open doors for you to enter first, no matter your gender. He doesn’t want your hands to get dirty from door knobs that have been through things that only Celestia knows what, so he insists that he shall open them for you. In a way, it sounded a bit over the top, but how can you say no to such a kind man like your lover?
He sees to it that you’re the first one to be seated before him, pulling out a chair for you before sitting next to you. It’s almost essential for him to sit next to you, as if you’re a light that he finds himself drawn to. 
When it comes to eating together, he offers you a bite of his meal that he either made or ordered, wanting you to try the delicious meal that’s made with precision and passion and appreciate it with him (though it usually ends up with him giving you more bites of it like a grandma would to her grandchild). Whenever he does this, he makes sure to blow the food first before giving it to you, not wanting your tongue to get burnt by accident. He even goes as far as putting his hand beneath the spoon to ensure nothing will spill on you and your clothes. 
Traveling is also to be expected when you’re with Zhongli, with you two visiting different areas of Liyue for a variety of reasons such as work, vacation, leisure time, etc. Whenever you two travel, he’s always there to give you a hand, especially when climbing up and going down. 
He’ll even go as far as putting his coat down on the ground for you to sit on to avoid your clothes becoming dirty should you two ever need a break, not wanting you to get too exhausted from your trip. 
Of course, we cannot forget how Zhongli has a sharp memory, so he knows the exact day for your relationship milestones and would never forget it. Expect him to celebrate things such as your first date-sary, monthsary, first kiss-sary, and the list goes on until you eventually tell him that most people (if not all) wouldn’t celebrate most of these things. 
That doesn’t stop him from greeting you with such occasions though ^^
It’s clear to see that the consultant loves you dearly and wants the best for you. The same goes to his dear friends and peers around him, and you couldn’t be all the more grateful to have such a man like him as your lover. In fact, his amber-hue eyes that you always seem to lose yourself to shines much brighter when he’s kind. 
“Why are you smiling? Is there something on my face?” He’d ask you when he catches you admiring him from your place. 
“Nothing. I just want to admire how perfect my boyfriend is.” You sigh dreamily, looking at him happily. “How are you such a perfect spouse?” 
He chuckles in response, now putting down his tea. “I beg to differ. Especially since the most breathtaking person in front of me is more worthy of such title.”  
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It’s no lie to everyone in the Fortress – both inmates and guards alike – that WRIOTHESLEY adores you, even if he wouldn’t outright admit it. Though his words are nothing but silent, his actions speak louder. Out of the very few people that the duke trusts, you’re the one that comes to mind, and the same goes for you towards him. He’s quite honored that you trust him enough to let him become your spouse, and what better way to express that than actions? 
You’re rest assured that he always has tea saved for you whenever you come and visit his office. When you do, he always makes sure to pull out a chair for you to sit on, pour your cup with your drink of choice before pouring his tea on his own cup. 
For a man such as him, he’s observant and is quick to notice when someone is uncomfortable – in this case, you. As soon as he takes note of your discomfort or uneasiness, he is quick to comfort you and assure you that all’s well as he either swiftly takes you away from the scene or finds a way to help you go through it. 
With that in mind, Wriothesley understands if you find yourself preferring the world outside over the Fortress of Meropide. He gets it! He’s content with you just visiting whenever you can. He knows not everyone would be keen on staying in the stronghold prison for a long time, especially when they have no reason to besides visiting their spouse. 
Unless you’re an actual criminal, then that’s when you entirely have no choice but be stuck in the fortress and with him until you’re free to go. 
Speaking of criminals, danger lurks everywhere in Fontaine. You certainly can’t blame your lover for being quite protective with you, often telling you through his letters to be careful with going out at night and to not fall for any scammers or tricks by possible criminals that are still out there. He’s aware that you’re more than capable of protecting yourself from danger, but it doesn’t stop his worries even for one bit.
It’s not common for the Duke to come out from the Fortress and visit the city. When he does, there’s a huge chance that he’s seen with you, holding your hand as you two go on with your day as a couple. He does not show affection in public much, but that doesn’t mean holding hands would hurt! 
To others, he always seems so calm and collected on his own, but in comparison to how he acts with you, he’s much more content and relaxed, as if he’s in a utopian paradise that he feels at peace in as your laughter and voice soothes his unfaltering spirit. 
Should you ever ask for a mora of his thoughts from how distracted he was during your time spent together, you’ll only gain this response:
“Hm? Oh, forgive me for being distracted. You don’t have to worry about it.” He’d say casually, hiding the fact that he’s simply distracted from thinking about how much he wants this kind of experience to last forever.
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Given that NEUVILLETTE is unfamiliar with human customs and feelings, the same goes for his unfamiliarity in the romance department. He didn’t think he’d end up courting someone, let alone form a personal relationship – especially since he avoids such things. However, you’re somehow an exception.
His experience in the court is unfortunately not enough to help him with his goal in winning your heart, yet somehow, he finds himself in a relationship with you. Though inexperienced and busy, he still has his perks that makes it up – such as his mannerisms.
Just like Zhongli, he’s quite a traditional gentleman. Not only will he help you sit down by pulling out a chair and remove your coat, he’d even make sure that none of your clothes, accessories, and even your hair would get caught in the furniture’s ornamentation to avoid the same inconveniences that he goes through in his daily life. 
He tends to hold your hand when the two of you go through the seats of the Opera Epiclese to watch a performance, dragging you to the best seat in the middle of the front row as he helps you become comfortable. After watching your first performance together, he never thought that watching a performance could be so enjoyable when you have companions to share the joy with. Where were you in his entire life?
On another note, Neuvillette is the type to carry your bags whenever the two of you go shopping or when he sees you holding something heavy, wanting to ease your burdens and struggles swiftly as he insists that he should help you. You should be able to have your hands free like a dove in his perspective. 
It shows that he’s willing to help you with anything you need, whether it’d be giving wise advice, getting something, lending a shoulder for you to cry on, and anything else so long as it eases your struggles. 
Given that he’s still exploring human customs and feelings, he entrusts you to guide him through it, and this means that he’s open with new things that he hasn’t tried before so long as it doesn’t clash with his busy schedule. 
He doesn’t mind doing particular activities with you, be it pot-making, watching documentaries, playing classic games, and the list goes on! If he has you by his side to try everything, then he’s okay with it all. 
Speaking of activities, Neuvillette has taken a liking for walking in the rain. He even fantasizes about going out into the rain, wanting to feel the raindrops pouring on him as he walks down the streets of Fontaine. 
Despite enjoying such joys, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t consider your comfort with the weather. Knowing how humans are with not wanting to become wet from the weather, your lover is there to help you in holding an umbrella that he’d bring should he hear any forecasts of rain beforehand. 
He makes sure that the entire umbrella is on you and stays that way, and he simply wouldn’t forgive himself if he sees even a few drops on your clothing that he could’ve prevented despite your assurances. 
If you ever expressed your concern of him getting drenched and possibly sick from the rain, he’d simply reassure you that it’s nothing to worry about, telling you that he does this very often whenever it rains. 
“Don’t worry about me, ma moitié.” He says with a tender gaze as he continues to walk side by side with you, holding the umbrella above you. “I will not get sick easily from the weather, nor do I mind having my clothes drenched. I want you to worry about yourself more.” 
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PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin
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oofthwoods · 9 months ago
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DEBUTANTE! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: derived from the french language, meaning “a first performance or showing.” the original word debutante referred to a new actress making her first appearance on the stage. or, the one where dreams come true in bahrain.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: just a little bonus, but i picture jasper as kingsley ben-adir (secret invasion, barbie). if this is the first work of mine you're checking, reader is a driver for porsche and the daughter of rubens barrichello!
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 5.5k
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NO ONE ASKED HER A QUESTION IN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.
Naturally, there were many questions about her. How did the drivers feel about a woman joining their ranks on the track? What were their thoughts on the growing number of female fans who were tuning in to watch Formula One, possibly due to the popularity of the documentary Drive to Survive or the historic moment of having the first female driver in decades?
She wasn't sure if this was better or worse than she anticipated. She vividly recalled her first press conference last year when she was still driving for ART Grand Prix. They asked her ridiculous questions like whether it was professional to wear skirts in the paddock (yes), who the most attractive driver was (herself, obviously), and even if her father was disappointed that she reached a milestone in motorsport before her older brother (Dudu, who raced with their father in Brazilian Stock Series. And no, he had already made it clear he was proud of both of them).
In the first few minutes, she assumed it was because she was a rookie. But then Oscar Piastri answered a fair share of questions while looking at her as if he didn't understand why people were treating her like an invisible presence. She would shrug her shoulders and the australian reluctantly answered reporters' inquiries.
She was sandwiched between Lewis, who seemed impatient as time dragged on without any questions directed towards her, and Max Verstappen, who quickly responded to his own questions and showed his eagerness to leave. Two rookies, two world champions, but only three drivers deemed important enough for interviews.
The world-renowned champion's frustration peaked when asked about his recent vacation activities.
"Is this a joke?" he asked. "Do you really want to know what I did on my vacation more than asking her interesting questions?" He gestured towards the girl beside him.
"It's alright, Lewis-"
"With all due respect, Hamilton," one of the reporters interjected with a sarcastic smirk on his face. "I can't imagine what kind of questions we could ask Miss Barrichello besides her makeup preferences or favorite clothing brands."
"How about the fact that I won four championships in a row as a rookie?" She responded with a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. She could accept to be ignored, but she refused to be underestimated. "Or maybe any questions about Porsche joining the grid this year?"
"I don't think winning a championship by such a small margin of points is anything to be praised." The reporter retorted. His expression implied that he wasn't expecting the young girl to comfort him, but he couldn't hold back.
"Really? So we should just say that the battle between Max and Lewis in 2021-" she indicated towards them "-was nothing worth celebrating? Such an uneventful year for this sport."
Verstappen leaned forward, observing the interaction between the girl and the reporter. This press conference just became much more interesting.
"Strong words from someone who has never stepped foot in a race car." He chimed in, agreeing with the youngest person in the room.
"That's not what I meant." The reporter stuttered, noticing the security chief slowly approaching him. The middle-aged man was one of many security guards in the paddock that had known the driver since she was a child, and she knew that one look in his direction and the man would be escorted out.
"Of course, of course," she replied sarcastically. "You mean it's not worth celebrating because a woman won, right? Please, if you're going to insult me, at least try to make it believable. Or better yet, don't speak if you have no idea what you're talking about"
The tension in the room was palpable as another reporter spoke up, "But Y/n, let's be real here. The races were mostly dominated by your teammate, Frederik Vesti or runner-up Felipe Drugovich. Your victories were purely tactical."
She leaned back in her chair with a smug smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? Yet somehow I managed to come out on top every time."
Verstappen nodded in agreement, "She's definitely got a point there."
The press room fell into an intense quiet, causing y/n to regret her decision to do this interview. She knew that this type of situation would become more common as her fame grew in the coming year. She also understood that Lewis would be praised for defending her while she would face criticism for simply standing up for herself against a man who was only doing his job.
The silence was broken by a female journalist in the back, hidden behind the larger, more muscular bodies of her male counterparts. But y/n could never mistake that blonde hair for anyone else. Mariana Becker was a veteran sports reporter, an icon in Brazilian journalism, and a role model for any woman breaking into a male-dominated field.
“I wish I had raised my hand earlier; I didn't realize it would take so long for someone to ask you a question,” she chuckled. "I don't think anyone will object to two questions, right?" The woman looked around the room, and the other interviewers avoided making eye contact with the veteran.
"So, y/n, you've been asked countless times about being a woman in a male-dominated world and the difficulties you face because of it. However, with such a successful junior career full of records, I honestly don't see the need to ask that question again. Instead, I'd like to focus on the positive aspects. What does it mean to you knowing that a new generation of girls can look up to you as an inspiration and be motivated to pursue their dreams?"
The girl's face lit up with gratefulness for the refreshing question and relief that she wouldn't have to answer the same question she had already answered countless times before.
"It's incredibly inspiring for me as well. Growing up in this environment, surrounded by racing cars, I was also discouraged from pursuing this career. But I can only imagine how much more difficult it must have been for young girls who were ridiculed just for dreaming of driving a go-kart. To know that I can play a role in encouraging them to follow their dreams without fear of judgment is truly exciting."
Lewis subtly raised his thumb in a gesture of approval while she chuckled.
"Excellent," said the reporter with a smile. "One more question, how did your father react when you told him you were entering the world of Formula 1?"
"He cried," y/n answered quickly, eliciting laughter from those in the room. "He's quite the crybaby, so I waited until we were together to share the news of my contract with Porsche. At first, he cried tears of joy, then fear, and eventually a mixture of both. That's when he realized that all three of his children were following in his footsteps as race car drivers and that he'd have to pay for everything he put his own father through."
The reporter chuckled along with y/n. Mari had interviewed Rubens back when he was in Formula 1, and remembers clearly how emotional the man always was. The conference went on like this for another half an hour, with y/n answering everything from her expectations for the upcoming season to her favorite tracks and how she dealt with pressure.
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The balaclava, damp with sweat, clung tightly to her face as she stood at attention. Her race engineer, a tall black man with a buzzcut and a calm expression, waited patiently beside her. She smoothed down the folds of her crisp, red-and-black uniform, adorned with her country's flag on the sleeve.
"How was the conference?" Jasper asked.
The girl muttered something that Jasper couldn't make out. "That bad? Did they bring up the issue with wearing skirts in the paddock again?"
"They didn't ask anything at first, but then one guy made a comment about me winning the championship by a narrow margin of points not being worthy of praise. Except it wasn't even a narrow margin; Felipe finished about sixty points behind me., and Fred was more than a hundred points behind, despite driving the same car as me" She complained.
Jasper winced. The relationship between the engineer and the driver had been amazing during pre-season tests with the man acting like a friend and a mentor, and they had found a groove to envy.
"You'll need to come up with a strategy for dealing with these reporters," Jasper advised.
"I already have one."
"Really?" He glanced at the clock on the track and realized that time was running out. He handed her the helmet with both hands. She grinned and smoothly put it on. The colors of her country's flag stood out against the black and red of the car, making it impossible to miss.
"Yes. WWJD."
"What does that stand for?"
"What Would Jenson Do. Originally, it was "What Would Kimi Do," but I quickly realized that Kimi would just tell everyone to go fuck themselves, and I can't exactly do that yet."
The garage was a whirlwind of activity, with mechanics frantically making last-minute adjustments and drivers strapping into their cars. The scent of gasoline and burning rubber wafted through the air, adding to the excitement and tension that crackled in the atmosphere.
Everywhere she looked, there were people moving with purpose, each one focused on their individual tasks to ensure a successful first qualifying session of the season. The roar of engines being revved and tools clanging against metal filled her ears, drowning out any other sound. It was a chaotic but exhilarating scene as the countdown to the race began.
"Why not "What Would Rubens Do"?" He asked.
She chuckled. "My dad is too nice. In his only fight in his entire Formula 1 career, he told the mechanic who wanted to fight him to get someone else because he was too small."
Jasper's phone buzzed insistently, jolting him out of his thoughts and reminding him that only five minutes remained until the start of Q1. After the last few adjustments from the mechanics, y/n managed to squeeze into her car and secure her seatbelt. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her body as she prepared for the intense competition ahead.
Jasper rested his arms on the halo. "Don't forget what we discussed earlier," he reminded her. "In Q1, six cars will be eliminated, followed by six more in Q2. This means that the top ten fastest cars will battle for pole position. Based on our data, we are definitely faster than Alpha Tauri, Alfa Romeo, Haas, and Williams - a total of eight cars."
The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes glued to the man as he continued. "At the very least, you and Mick should be able to make it into Q2. We're not sure how Alpine and McLaren are doing, but they don't seem to be as quick as us." He gestured towards the track outside where the other teams were busy with their own preparations. "But we can't let our guard down. Anything can happen during quali." The tension was palpable as they both waited for their turn on the track.
"So, we're trying for Q3 then?" She inquired, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and determination.
"Officially, I was instructed to tell you that Q2 is sufficient, but we can't know our full potential until we're on the track."
A sly grin appeared on her face, hidden behind her helmet. She pushed down her visor, ready to give it her all. "Well, I say let's aim for Q3 then. I want to see what this car can really do."
A gentle laugh escaped Jasper's lips, his eyes shining with admiration. "That's the spirit, echo. Show them what you're made of."
With one final nod, y/n shifted her focus, tuning out the noise and commotion of the pit lane. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, using all her senses to ground herself in the present moment. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled her nostrils as she visualized the track ahead. The deafening roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds, sending shivers down her spine.
Jasper's voice crackled through the radio in her ear, sounding like a distant robot. "Radio check," he said, his tone serious and business-like.
She adjusted gloves as she responded, "I hear you loud and clear." Her hands were tightly gripped on the steering wheel as she followed Logan Sargeant's Williams out of the pit lane. It was a tight squeeze with the Porsche garage being the newest addition to the grid. She bit her lip, hoping that their placement in the pit lane wouldn't cause any trouble in the future.
"Great. Warm up your tires and then do a flying lap. We want to get a better idea of our potential and avoid any possible disruptions from a Red Flag," Jasper instructed.
"Roger that," she replied, trying to keep her breathing steady as cars started to move around her. She prayed that the onboard camera wouldn't catch her trembling hands as she prepared for her first real lap on the track.
The engine roared to life as she pressed down on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel with determination. The car surged forward, its tires screeching against the asphalt, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses as she focused on the task at hand.
The wind whipped through, carrying with it a symphony of sounds—engines revving, tires squealing, and the distant cheers of the crowd. Her heart pounded in sync with the rhythm of the track, each beat pulsating through her chest.
As the cars whizzed by, she made a conscious effort to stay out of their way while completing her out lap. It was her first Grand Prix, and she wasn't about to receive an impeding penalty. She could feel the engine roaring to life and her car responding with precision, its tires getting ready to set a time that would hopefully secure her from elimination in the initial round.
Jasper's voice crackled through the radio once again. "Alright, you're good to go. Try your best," he encouraged, his voice filled with unwavering support.
"Copy." She smirked.
The pre-tests and free practice had prepared her for what was to come, but nothing could have truly prepared her for the exhilaration of sitting behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car. The engine purred like a fierce beast, ready to unleash its power at any moment. The sleek body of the car hugged the track, cutting through the air with precision and grace.
As she approached the first turn, she braked hard, shifting her weight to navigate the corner with precision. The G-forces pressed against her body, threatening to tear her away from reality. But she held firm, refusing to let anything distract her from the objective ahead.
She feathered the throttle, feeling the car respond to her slightest movements. The tires gripped the track, providing a sense of stability as she accelerated out of the turn, leaving her the other car trailing behind. Y/n's focus was unwavering, her eyes fixated on the next set of corners, mentally calculating her approach.
The flying lap was over in an instant, and the sound of the cheering crowd filled her ears as she crossed the finish line and set her initial time.
"Way to go, girl!" Jasper's voice crackled through the radio. "You've got P8, I repeat, P8. We're safely into Q2, but stay on track just in case. Prepare for another quick lap."
"How did Mick do?" she asked eagerly.
"P10, 0.78 seconds behind you," Jasper's voice was filled with pride as he responded. Despite his efforts to maintain professionalism, they were both rookies in the Formula 1 world, even if in different roles. "I got a great feeling about us, Barrichello. This could be the beginning of something legendary."
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The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as she waited for the race to begin and she started to feel claustrophobic inside her cramped driver's room.
Finally, unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, she stepped outside into the bustling garage. The sight of her team, clad in matching uniforms and working tirelessly on their cars, brought a small smile to her face. As she made her way through the maze of mechanics and equipment, she was greeted with reassuring smiles and words of encouragement.
This was not just her first race, but also the team's inaugural race. In a way, they were all rookies, feeling the pressure and nerves just as she was.
Standing outside, it was clear that several eyes were on her. Some, like the veteran Ferrari mechanics who had known her since she was a little girl, flashed comforting smiles and gave her thumbs up, wishing her the best of luck. Others raised their eyebrows with skepticism, as if they believed her presence on the grid was some sort of elaborate prank that hadn't been revealed yet.
Amidst a sea of red and black uniforms, the bright green outfit of the two-time world champion stood out prominently. Fernando paid no mind to the curious glances from his mechanics as he made his way confidently towards the girl.
"You're not allowed in here, Alonso." She teased, playfully crossing her arms in a gesture that made her seem much older than she was.
"Is that how it is now? You qualify in the Top 10 in your first race and all of a sudden I'm just Alonso, not Nando?" He responded with a chuckle. Clutching his heart dramatically, he leaned back as if struck by sudden agony. "What happened to all our pizza days? They meant nothing to you?"
The character she was playing no longer felt right to her, and the words she spoke didn't align with the expression on her face. She fought to suppress a smile as she continued, "That person you knew, Alonso? She is gone now."
As the man approached, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over her. His dark hair and intense brown eyes were etched into her memory, but it was his infectious smile that brought back a flood of childhood memories.
Fernando rested his hands on her shoulders and held onto his helmet, which puzzled her. With only a few minutes left before the race began, he could have easily stored it in his own garage rather than carrying it around. But she pushed those thoughts aside as his gaze softened and he spoke.
"You were the size of a flea when I met you," he said with a chuckle. She smiled at the memory of their first encounter. She had been just six years old at the time, tagging along with her father to one of his races. She remembered being mesmerized by the speed and energy of the cars on the track, but also feeling a little intimidated by the loud noises and bustling crowds.
But then she saw him – Alonso – standing tall and proud in his racesuit. He had noticed her watching him from behind the fence and had flashed her a tight smile. Somehow, from that one interaction, she had become a fan. From then on, whenever she visited the track with her father, she would always seek out Fernando.
Initially, the Spaniard couldn't comprehend why the young girl found him so intriguing. He knew he was talented and quick on the race track, but children were not his forte. Alonso would often try to distance himself from the girl, offering only friendly waves and smiles. However, when she presented him with a drawing of himself on the podium with a trophy (which he still keeps today), everything changed.
"You used to avoid me like the plague," she recalled.
"That's not entirely true," Fernando denied, but quickly changed his tune when the girl raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I wasn't too fond of being followed around by a little girl. Can you blame me? If anything happened to you, I would have to deal with your father, Michael, Kimi, and all the mechanics that you had wrapped around your finger."
He became somewhat of figure between an older brother and a father figure to her, always ready with words of encouragement and advice.
Now here they were, both grown up and about to race against each other for the very first time.
"I can't believe we're finally racing against each other," she said with a mixture of excitement and nerves.
"It's about time," Fernando replied with a smirk. "I've been waiting for this moment since you beat me in go-karts."
A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the moment. During one of his trips with her family to cheer her on during her junior career, they decided to have some fun and race go-karts. She had managed to beat him by mere thousandths of a second, and she made sure to remind him of it constantly afterwards.
"What's on the agenda for today, Mija?" He asked, looking around at the girl's garage.
"Hah, like I would share that with you. I love you, Nando, but now we're competitors." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're just trying to take advantage because we're close."
"You got me." He chuckled, knowing it wasn't entirely true.
She sighed and crossed her arms with a hesitant expression. "Rule number one is to not crash into Mick. Number two is to avoid crashing into anyone else. Our team isn't expecting a stellar performance, so if we can maintain our starting positions, both cars will score points. That's our main goal."
"Oh, come on. Don't you want to try overtaking someone?" he prodded.
Y/N laughed. "Why? You want to see me in your rearview mirror?"
"Of course I do," he admitted. "Competing for a win with you would be incredible."
He pushed his helmet towards the girl, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Confused, she tilted her head in question. “I appreciate the gift, but I think you’ll need it today.”
Fernando laughed, memories flooding back to him. “Remember when your dad retired and you started coming to races with me?”
The memories flooded back, of her father's days in the high-stakes world of Formula 1. Though he had since retired, Fernando still managed to convince Rubens to allow her to travel with him to races closer to her home, and sometimes even to the grand prix in his homeland.
She quickly caught on to his request and playfully darted away from him before snagging the helmet. It had become a tradition since she was ten years old, and Fernando had unofficially taken on the role of her godfather. She used to do this same routine with her own father, so it felt natural to continue with the spaniard. He stood there, slightly perplexed, wondering if he had said or done something wrong. But just moments later, the young girl returned with her own helmet in hand.
"Wouldn't it be fair for you to do the same for me this time?" she asked playfully.
The two exchanged helmets and planted a kiss on the part of the helmet that would soon cover each other's foreheads.
"Stay safe, Nando"
"You too. Give us hell"
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"It's an easy overtake for Barrichello in the Porsche, and she takes the position from Lance Stroll in the Aston Martin!" David Croft's voice rings across the circuit, and the crowd roars, the flags from her country and Germany flying around.
"Great job!" The voice of her race engineer appears in her ear, breaking through her intense concentration. "Russell is 1.2 ahead, close the gap to be able to use DRS when it is enabled."
"Copy" she nods, instinctively, her eyes never leaving the track ahead. She knows what she needs to do, and she pushes her car to its limits, weaving through the curves and straights with precision and skill.
As she closes the gap between her and the british driver, she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She's in her element, in the midst of the intense competition that she lives for.
"0.7. Go for it, elbows out" Jasper said again.
The cheers of the pit crew resounded in her ears as she used the extra boost to overtake the Mercedes. It was a challenge to defend against George's attempts at whiplash and reclaim her position, but once they were off the main straight, she managed to create a considerable gap between them.
The rest of the race flew by in a blur. The girl lost track of her position, constantly overtaking some cars only to be overtaken shortly after. However, Jasper's encouraging words kept her going.
Jasper's voice crackled through the radio as she approached the final stretch of the race. "Virtual safety car, slow down," he instructed.
She quickly checked her rearview mirror, looking for her teammate. "Is it ours?" she asked.
"No, it's Leclerc in the Ferrari," Jasper replied, "which puts us in fifth place."
She could see Hamilton was more than five seconds behind, and the yellow flag meant that Alonso was slowing down ahead of her.
"As soon as the VSC is lifted, you'll have a clear shot to overtake," Jasper added.
Who would have thought that she would be right on Fernando's heels after all?
After a few laps of caution due to the previous incident, the green flags were waved and she wasted no time in accelerating towards the Aston Martin driven by the Spaniard. She steadily closed the gap between them until she was right behind him. However, just as she was about to make a move to pass him, he outmaneuvered Carlos Sainz's Ferrari.
In a swift and calculated maneuver, she positioned her car on the inside of Sainz, who seemed too focused on reclaiming his position to check his mirrors. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse of attention, she quickly overtook him.
Jasper's voice was filled with excitement as he shouted, "That's it, echo! What a fantastic move!" She could almost hear the smile in his tone. "Alonso is already ten seconds ahead, so concentrate on defending now."
The final laps seemed like a blur, the girl steadily increasing the gap between her and the Ferrari with each lap.
"It's a flawless performance from Porsche, with both cars scoring points on this historic day. Mick Schumacher equals his best career finish with an incredible P6, and Y/N Barrichello takes fourth place, becoming the first woman to score in a Formula 1 race since Lella Lombardi and achieving the highest position for a woman in history!"
The sound of the bustling cheers from the Porsche garage fills her ears as she struggled to park the car with trembling hands. “Unbelievable! P4, y/n, P4! We scored 21 points and Mick got the fastest lap. What a start,” Jasper exclaims over the radio.
She stepped out of the car on shaky legs and is immediately greeted by Carlos, who had parked his car behind hers. “Where did you come from?” he asked with a chuckle. “I was trying to overtake Fernando, and suddenly you were right beside me.”
She took off her helmet and balaclava, her hair damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead and neck. She culdn't help but laugh. "Next time, check your mirrors," She teases her good-naturedly.
A hand rested on her shoulder, and she was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. The sweat that coated both of them didn't matter, nor did the fact that she still needed to weigh herself. She squeezed Mick even tighter and they both seemed too overjoyed to let go.
He took a step back but kept his arms around her. "Fourth place in your first race! I told you not to worry," the German exclaimed proudly.
"And look who's talking with the fastest lap!" She laughed in agreement. "We did it, Mick. We fucking did it."
A bottle of water suddenly appeared in her line of sight, and she turned to thank the person who handed it to her. To her surprise, it was Lewis with a smile on his face.
"If you had just overtaken one more person, you would have joined the club," he joked, pointing to Kevin Magnussem, who appeared to be deep in conversation with his teammate. "It was quite a race for the two of you."
"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to end up anywhere higher than where I started, so P4 is already a great achievement," she replied with a laugh as she took the cold bottle from him. The girl then turned to Lewis again and asked about his own race.
"P7. Mick managed to pass me on the last lap," he responded, glancing over at the young driver who chuckled in response.
The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as y/n made her way to the weighing machines. She couldn't believe it, a P4 finish on her debut race. It seemed like a dream come true.
She stepped onto the scales, trying to calm her racing heart. The number flashed on the screen, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Phew, just made it," she muttered to herself.
Grabbing a towel to wipe off the sweat from her face, she quickly discarded her race suit at her hips, and made her way to her garage in her white fireproofs.
To an outsider, it might have seemed like the team had just won a world championship, not a P6 and P4. People were clapping her on the back and embracing Mick, and she struggled to decipher the various voices exclaiming with joy.
Jasper appeared in front of her with a bottle of champagne in hand. "Congratulations y/n, you did amazing out there!" he exclaimed before popping open the bottle and spraying champagne everywhere.
She laughed as some of the bubbly liquid hit her skin. "Thanks Jasper! I couldn't have done it without your perfect strategy. Great call with the tyres"
He grinned at her before turning serious. "But seriously y/n, you did a great job out there. We're all so proud of you." The rest of the team joined them in cheers and congratulations.
Before they could continue their conversation, Adrian, the team principle, arrived at their garage looking ecstatic. "Great job everyone! A double-points finish for our debut race, this is just the beginning." He raised his glass of champagne before taking a sip.
Y/n looked around and couldn't help but feel proud of her team. They had come a long way since their first tests together. And now here they were, competing in one of the most prestigious racing championships in the world.
Adrian turned to her with a smile. "Y/n, I must say you exceeded all expectations today. You have proven yourself as a valuable addition to our team." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Keep up the good work."
She couldn't help but blush at his words and nod gratefully. This was everything she had ever dreamed of - to be part of a successful racing team and make her mark in the sport.
As the celebrations continued, y/n couldn't help but think about how far she had come. From fighting for sponsorships to competing against some of the best drivers in the world, it felt like a dream come true.
But amidst all the excitement and joy, there was still one thing weighing on her mind - her family. She missed them terribly and wished they could be here to witness her success.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
"Muito orgulhoso de você filhota. Eu sabia que você ia arrasar! Me liga quando acabar tudo aí" — PAPAI. (so so proud of you, baby. i knew you would rock it! call me once you're done with everything there.)
Soon after, her older brother's name appeard on her phone as well. A quick congrats was followed by a video. Tapping on it, she couldn't contain the tears as she watched her father by the TV, holding tightly their flag and exploding in joy as the checkered flag was waved and his daughter finished in fourth.
He erupted with happiness, leaping and embracing her siblings and close friends who had gathered to witness her debut. He would excitedly point towards the television, shouting with pride, "There she is! My little girl!"
A big smile crept onto her face as she quickly replied back with an update on how things were, and a promise to video call her family as soon as she was cleared from the media.
"Time for the boring stuff now. Ready for the interviews?" Mick pulled her out of her thoughts. He had his phone on his hand, and she imagined he was also communicating with his family. "I can go first, if you want."
She took a deep breath, and smiled. "It's okay, i'll go. There's nothing they can say that could ruin my day. Not anymore."
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